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ICSE Notes 2018 : English Paper 2 (English Literature) (Bhagwanti Education Centre, Kanpur Nagar)Merchant of venice whole act

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ACT 1 SCENE 1 A funeral barge, decked in black and gold was passing slowly along the canal and the waves it caused made the gondolas prance and rear like wild black stallions as they strained against the ropes that tied them to their striped poles. Antonio stared out towards the open sea, then sighed and stepped back to join his friends beneath the balcony under which they stood waiting. In all honesty, I really don t know why I m so depressed, he said. He attempted a smile and failed. It s exhausting. You say it exhausts you! I don t know how I caught it, or found it, or came by it: I don t know what it s made of or what caused it. I m so confused that I don t even know where I am most of the time. Salerio put his hand on his friend s shoulder and nodded reassuringly. Your mind is tossing on the ocean, he said. It s out there with your cargo ships, with their billowing sails, like noblemen and rich merchants of the waves or, if you like, colourful carnivals of the sea, towering above the ordinary ships that bow respectfully to them as the wind hurries them on. Solanio nodded. Believe me, sir, he assured Antonio, if I had such a valuable cargo on the ocean most of my thoughts would be out there with it. I d be forever picking blades of grass to gauge which way the wind was blowing: poring over maps, looking for ports and piers and safe havens. Every little thing that might threaten my venture would depress me. Salerio agreed entirely. Blowing on my soup to cool it would remind me of what harm a stormy wind might do at sea and blow a chill through me. I wouldn t be able to look at the sand running through an hourglass without thinking of shallow waters and sandbanks. I d have an image of my best ship Andrew stuck in mud, her topsail lowered as though for a funeral. I wouldn t be able to go to church without immediately thinking of the stones it s built of as dangerous rocks that, just touching my fragile vessel s side, would scatter all the spices across the sea and clothe it with my silk fabrics. Within an instant I d be rich and then a pauper again. I couldn t help being miserable if that happened. So don t deny it: it must be because you re worried about your merchandise. Antonio looked up sadly. Believe me, no, he said. I m grateful for my good luck. My investments aren t all in one ship or in one place. My wealth doesn t depend on this year s trading. So it s not my merchandise that s making me depressed. Solanio prodded him playfully in the ribs. Well then, you are in love! he teased. Come on, come on! said Antonio, and he managed the ghost of a smile. Not in love either? Solanio looked thoughtfully at him. Then let us say that you re sad because you aren t merry. That if you wanted to you could be laughing and jumping about, saying you re merry because you aren t sad. By two-headed Janus, Nature has made some strange people in her time. Some are eternally smiling and would laugh like idiots at the dismal wailing of a bagpipe, while others are so sour that they wouldn t show their teeth in a smile even if the most solemn man told them the joke was funny. Antonio turned again and resumed looking out at the sea. Three young men were coming towards them. When Solanio recognised them he showed his eagerness to pass their friend on to them. Here comes your noble kinsman, Bassanio, he said. Goodbye then: we ll leave you with better company. Salerio patted Antonio on the back. I would have stayed to cheer you up if better friends hadn t prevented me, he said. I m most grateful to you for staying with me, said Antonio as he watched his relative and friend approaching with two companions. You have your own business to attend to, though. And this is a good opportunity to do that. Good morning my lords, said Salerio. Bassanio, and his friends, Lorenzo and Gratiano were smiling round at them. Good gentlemen, both! exclaimed Bassanio as he took their hands. When are we going to have a night out and a good laugh together? You re becoming strangers. Is that what you want? Salerio was keen to get on his way and he nodded in agreement. We ll set a time aside to meet you, he said, and with a final bow he and Solanio turned and left. The three young men were in high spirits, in contrast to Bassanio s relative, who, although pleased to see them, was unable to show it. Lorenzo nudged Gratiano. Bassanio, he said. Now that you ve found Antonio we ll leave you. But don t forget that we re meeting for dinner. I won t fail you, said Bassanio. Gratiano turned to leave then came back and addressed Antonio. You don t look well, Signior Antonio, he said. You let things get you down. Too much worrying isn t good for you. Believe me, you ve changed a lot. I take life for what it is, Gratiano, said Antonio. The world is a stage on which everyone has a part to play. Mine is a sad one. Let me play the fool, then! exclaimed Gratiano. Let me be wrinkled from mirth and laughter. And let my liver be heated with wine rather than my heart cooled with sad groans. Why should a hot-blooded man sit like a stone statue of his grandfather, waking up only to doze off again and turn yellow with peevishness? I assure you, Antonio I speak out of affection for you there are some men whose faces are blank and expressionless: they do that on purpose, the idea being to appear wise, serious and deep, as if to say I am Master Know-all, and when I open my mouth no dog should dare to bark! Oh, my dear friend Antonio, I know of some men who are regarded as wise just because they don t say anything, when it s clear that if they did they d condemn themselves for their stupidity and invite ridicule. He saw that Bassanio was trying to catch his eye, indicating to him to stop talking. I ll elaborate another time, he told the expressionless Antonio. But don t you go fishing for that reputation with this depression as your excuse. Bassanio was giving him somewhat angry glances now and Gratiano grabbed hold of Lorenzo s arm. Come on, Lorenzo, he said. Goodbye for now. I ll finish my homily after dinner. Lorenzo laughed and bowed to Antonio. Right then, he said. We ll leave you till dinner-time. I must be one of those silent wise men because Gratiano never lets me get a word in edgewise. Well keep company with me for just two more years and you won t even recognise the sound of your own voice! said Gratiano. Goodbye, said Antonio. He made an effort to respond to their lightheartedness. I ll try and develop my conversational skills, he said. I look forward to that, said Gratiano. Silence is only commendable in dried cow tongues and old maids. They went off in high spirits, Gratiano whistling. What do you make of that? said Antonio. Bassanio laughed. Gratiano talks more rubbish than any man in Venice. The amount of sense in anything he says is like two grains of wheat hidden in a bushel of chaff: you d search the whole day before finding them. And if you do find them they aren t worth the search! They started walking, past the grand palaces with their pink and gold-tinted facades and tall arched windows, towards the Rialto. Antonio tried to pull himself out of his dark mood. Well now, Bassanio, he said. What about this lady who s captured your heart the one you promised you d tell me about today? Bassanio stopped. His face was serious now, intense. Well it s no secret to you, Antonio, that I ve squandered my inheritance by living beyond my means. But I m not complaining about the fact that I have to economise now: my main aim is to repay the large debts I ve saddled myself with. You re my main creditor, both in money and in affection. And because of that affection you have for me I feel that I can speak freely about the plans and schemes I have to clear myself of all my debts. Please, said Antonio, tell me, Bassanio. And if your plan is honourable as you are my wallet, myself, and everything I have, are all at your disposal. In my school days, if I lost an arrow, I shot another in exactly the same way, watching it closely to see where the first one must have fallen. By risking both I often found both. I m using this childhood example because what I m going to propose is just as innocent. I owe you a lot, and what I owe has been lost. But if you would agree to shoot another arrow in the same direction as you shot the first, I have no doubt because I ll watch things very carefully that I ll either find both or bring the second back to you and still stand by the debt I owed you in the first place. You know me well enough not to have to waste time beating about the bush, said Antonio. By doubting my unreserved support you re doing me more wrong than you did by squandering my money. Just tell me what you d like me to do, if you think I can do it, and I m committed. So talk. Bassanio took a deep breath. There s a rich heiress in Belmont, he began. And she s beautiful: and even better, she s got wonderful qualities. And I ve read favourable messages in her eyes. Her name is Portia, and she s not in any way inferior to Cato s daughter, Brutus Portia. Nor is the wider world ignorant of her qualities because the four winds of the earth blow renowned suitors in from every shore. And her fair hair cascades like a golden fleece and makes her Belmont another Colchos beach, and many Jasons come in pursuit of her. Bassanio took a few steps toward the canal edge then turned and shook his head. Oh, my dear friend Antonio, if only I had the means to compete with them, I m absolutely sure that I would win. Antonio nodded thoughtfully. You know that all my wealth is at sea. I don t have the ready cash, nor any merchandise to sell to raise the money at the moment. So go and find out how good my credit is in Venice. Stretch it to the limit to finance your expedition to Belmont, to the beautiful Portia. Go straight away and ask around. I will as well. Find out where money is to be had and I ll borrow it on the strength of my credit or that of my friends. Bassanio embraced him and almost ran as he hurried off on his mission. SCENE 2 Portia s companion, Nerissa, had become a close friend since the death of Portia s father. Apart from a similar sense of humour, their being of the same, marriageable, age gave them a great deal in common and much to talk about. Moreover, the impossible situation Portia s late father had placed his only child in by the terms of his will, made a close confidant a most valuable asset. They sat in the hall of Portia s Belmont villa, trying yet again to make sense of it all. Portia sighed. Honestly, Nerissa, she said. My little body is weary of this great world. You would be, dearest madam, if your miseries were as numerous as your good fortunes, said Nerissa, but, the way I see it is that one can be just as sick from overeating as from starving. So it s not such a bad thing to be poor. Having too much makes you old before your time: having less gives you a longer life. A good philosophy and well expressed, said Portia. Nerissa looked around her at the rich furnishings, the priceless paintings, the gold fittings, and smiled. It would be better if that philosophy were followed, she said. If it were as easy to do as say, said Portia, chapels would be churches and poor men s cottages princes palaces. It s a good preacher who follows his own preaching! I d rather teach twenty people what to do than be one of the twenty who had to follow my teaching. The brain tries to make rules for the body but hot passions ignore them. Youth rejects good advice because it gets in the way. But all this rationality isn t going to help me choose a husband. She sighed. Oh dear. That word choose! I can neither choose who I want nor reject whom I don t like. So the will of a living daughter is frustrated by the will of a dead father. Isn t it hard, Nerissa, that I can neither choose nor refuse? Your father was a good man and good men often have inspiration on their deathbeds, said Nerissa. And so the lottery of the three chests he devised gold, silver and lead with you being the reward for choosing the right one will no doubt ensure that you will love the one who makes the right choice. Her mistress raised her eyes in her exasperation and Nerissa laughed. Then she said provocatively: But what do you feel about those who have come? Portia laughed. Oh please, go through their names and as you say them I ll tell you how I feel about each one. They broke into a fit of giggles and when that had subsided Nerissa cleared her throat. First, there s the Neapolitan prince. Oh there s a frisky young colt! exclaimed Portia. The only thing he can talk about is his horse and he praises himself for being able to shoe him himself. I can only think that his mother must have had an affair with a blacksmith! When they had stopped laughing Nerissa said: Then there s the Count Palatine. He does nothing but frown, as if to say, If you won t have me then do as you please! He hears amusing stories but doesn t even smile. He ll be really sour in his old-age, as he s so full of misery in his youth. I d rather be married to a skull with a bone in its mouth than to either of those. God defend me from those two! How do you like the French gentleman, Monsieur Le Bon? Portia made an exaggeratedly effeminate gesture with her hand. Well! she said, God made him so we ll let him pass for a man. Really! I know it s not nice to mock, but him! He s got a horse that s better than the Neapolitan s: he frowns better than the Count Palatine. He s everyone and no-one. If a thrush sings he immediately begins dancing: he wants to fence with his own shadow. If I married him I would be marrying twenty husbands. If he hated me I would forgive him: even if he loved me to distraction I wouldn t return his love. Nerissa raised her hand, showing four fingers. Well then, what about Falconbridge, the English baron? Portia pulled a face. You know I haven t spoken to him. He doesn t understand me and I don t understand him. He speaks neither Latin, French nor Italian, and you would be able to swear in court that I m pretty poor at English. He s a handsome man but who can converse with a dummy? And how strangely he dresses! I think he bought his waistcoat in Italy, his breeches and stockings in France, his hat in Germany, and his manners everywhere! Nerissa held up five fingers. What do you think of his neighbour, the Scottish lord? That he s full of neighbourly love, because he took a boxing of his ears by the Englishman and swore he would pay him back as soon as he could. I think the Frenchman sided with him and became his guarantor for another beating! Nerissa could hardly contain herself. How do you like the young German? she gasped. The Duke of Saxony s nephew? Very little in the morning when he s sober and even less in the evening when he s drunk. When he s at his best he s less than a man and at his worst he s little better than a beast. If the worst came to the worst I think I could manage without him. If he decides to choose and he picks the right casket, you would be defying your father s will if you refused to marry him. Therefore, to stop the worst from coming to the worst, I beg you to put a large glass of Rhine wine on the wrong casket, because even if the devil is in it, if that temptation is on the outside I know he will choose it. I ll do anything, Nerissa, rather than marry a sponge! Portia s distress at her predicament seemed to sink in, then, and she looked at her friend with dejected eyes. Nerissa got up and put her arms around her. Madam, you needn t worry about having any of these men, she said gently. They ve told me their intentions. They re all going home and won t trouble you again, unless you can be won by some other means than your father s imposition of the caskets. If I should live to be as old as the Sibyl I will die as chaste as Diana unless I m won in accordance with my father s will. I m glad this bunch of wooers is so reasonable: there s not one of them whose absence I don t adore. May God grant them a safe journey! Nerissa was thoughtful. Do you remember, madam, when your father was alive, a Venetian a scholar and a soldier who came here with the Marquis of Montferrat? Yes, yes! That was Bassanio, I think his name was. That s right, madam. Of all the men my foolish eyes have ever gazed upon, he was the most deserving of a beautiful lady. I remember him well: he deserves your praise. Nerissa was about to say something more when a servant approached them. Well? What news? said Portia. The visitors are looking for you, madam, to say goodbye. A messenger has arrived from another the Prince of Morocco to tell you that his master will be here tonight. If I could greet him as heartily as I can bid the others farewell, I d be glad about his arrival, said Portia. If he has the character of a saint and the looks of a devil I d rather he blessed me than married me. Come on Nerissa. Go on ahead of us, she told the servant. She sighed. No sooner do we slam the gate on one wooer than another knocks on the door! SCENE 3 Bassanio knew exactly where to go a money-lender who, he thought, would, for a price, immediately produce the money. It would probably be more expensive than from any other source but it would all be done discreetly no-one would have to know about it. It would be worth it because he was almost certain to be successful in his Belmont project and the money would be repaid without any fuss. He entered the dingy streets of the Jewish quarter and knocked on the door of the biggest house in the district. Shylock was at home and he came out to him. Bassanio came straight to the point. Three thousand ducats, said Shylock. He nodded thoughtfully. Well Yes, sir, for three months. For three months. Shylock nodded again. Well. Which, as I said, Antonio will guarantee. Antonio will guarantee it. Well Will you do it? Will you help me? Will you tell me? Shylock stroked his beard. He spoke slowly, thoughtfully. Three thousand ducats for three months and Antonio will guarantee it Yes, yes, said Bassanio impatiently. What s your answer? Hm. Antonio is a good man. Have you heard any suggestion to the contrary? Shylock laughed. Oh no, no, no, no, no! When I say he is a good man, you must understand that I mean he is financially sound. But his wealth is at risk. One of his ships is bound for Tripoli, another for the Indies. Moreover, I have heard on the Rialto that a third is in Mexico, a fourth sailing for England, and there are several others all over the place. He watched Bassanio s impatient gestures for a moment then laughed again. But ships are only timber, sailors only men. In the same way that there are water rats and land rats, there are land thieves and water thieves: in other words, pirates. And then there are the dangers of currents, gales and rocks. Putting that aside though, the man is sound. Three thousand ducats. I think I can accept his guarantee. You can be sure you can! I will make sure I can. And to be sure I ll think it over. May I talk to Antonio himself? Of course! Come to dinner with us if you like. Shylock s eyes narrowed. Yes, to smell pork and eat the meat your prophet of Nazareth cast devils into! I will buy from you, sell to you, talk to you, walk with you, and so on, but I will not eat with you, drink with you nor pray with you. He was suddenly smiling again. What s the latest chatter on the Rialto? And who s this coming here? Antonio had obviously had the same thoughts about where he might get the ready money because he was coming down the street. It s Signior Antonio! said Bassanio. He went to meet his friend and Shylock watched them conferring closely together. Antonio looked like a fawning innkeeper. Shylock felt hatred for him because he was a Christian. But more seriously, because he generously lent out money without charging anything, which brought down the rate of interest in Venice. Shylock was excited because this could be his chance to catch him off-guard and very effectively pay back some old scores. Antonio hated Jews and was forever going on about Shylock in the business circles of Venice, denouncing his business methods and condemning his hardearned profits as extortion. May his tribe be cursed if he forgave him! He didn t realise that his visitors were standing beside him and talking to him. Shylock, are you listening? Bassanio was saying. I m calculating my assets, said Shylock. At a rough guess I can t raise the full sum of three thousand ducats immediately. It doesn t matter, though. Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, will give it to me. But wait. How many months do you need? He bowed to Antonio. Don t look so worried, sir. We re trying to help you. Antonio drew himself up and looked at Shylock with dislike. Shylock, he said, rather formally, Although I never lend nor borrow for profit I ll break that rule to help my friend in his need. He turned to Bassanio. Does he know how much you want? Of course, said Shylock. You just heard me. Three thousand ducats. And for three months, said Antonio. I had forgotten. Yes, three months. You did tell me that. Well then, your guarantee. Let me see But look here. I thought you said you never lend nor borrow for profit. I don t. Shylock gazed at him for a long moment, then: When Jacob grazed his uncle Laban s sheep that s the Jacob that was the third in line of inheritance from Abraham after his cunning mother had arranged it for him. The third in line yes, that s right, he was the third. Antonio tutted impatiently. What s he got to do with it? Did he take interest? No he didn t, said Shylock. Not directly anyway. Listen to what Jacob did. When he and Laban had agreed that all the new-born lambs with stripes and patches should be Jacob s to keep as his wages, the ewes became ready and turned to the rams. And when these woolly animals were in the act of mating the skilful shepherd got some sticks and stuck them in the ground in view of the lusty ewes. They conceived at that point, and when lambing time came they gave birth to lambs with mottled markings. They belonged to Jacob. It was a way of thriving and he was blessed. Profit is blessed as long as men don t steal to get it. That was a gamble Jacob made, sir, said Antonio. It wasn t in his power to make it work. Heaven made the decision. Did you tell me that to justify charging interest? Or are you suggesting that your gold and silver are ewes and rams? I don t know. But I make them breed as fast! But listen to me, signior Notice, Bassanio, said Antonio. The devil can quote the Scriptures for his purpose. An evil man who quotes from the Bible is like a villain with a smiling face, a rosy apple with a rotten core. Oh what a lovely outside falsehood has! Shylock was muttering. Three thousand ducats. It s a good round figure. He removed a book of tables from his pocket. Let me see. Three months from twelve Well Shylock? Antonio was impatient. Are you going to oblige us? Shylock slipped the book back into his pocket. He looked at Antonio for a long time then shook his head. Signior Antonio, he said. So many times on the Rialto, you have berated me about money and my money-lending. I ve always responded with a patient shrug because enduring such things is the badge of all our race. You call me an unbeliever, a cutthroat dog, and spit on my Jewish gabardine. And all for using what belongs to me. Well then, it now seems that you need my help. Alright then: you come to me and you say, Shylock, we want some money. That s what you say. You, who spat on my beard and kicked me as you would kick a stray dog from your house. Now you want money. What am I supposed to say to you? Shouldn t I say, Has a dog got money? Could a mongrel possibly lend three thousand ducats? Or shall I bend low and in the fawning tone of a servant, softly, in a small humble voice, say this: Good sir, you spat on me last Wednesday: you kicked me on such and such a day: another time you called me dog . And for these courtesies I ll lend you so much money ? I m just as likely to call you that again, and spit on you again and kick you too! said Antonio. He glared at Shylock with hatred in his eyes. If you lend this money don t lend it as you would to your friends, because since when did a friend make money from lending worthless bits of metal to his friend? Rather lend it to your enemy who, if he fails to repay you, you can exact the penalty in good conscience. Shylock s face crinkled in a warm smile. Why, look at the way you re raging! I want to be friends with you and have your high regard: forget the indignities you ve stained me with, and lend you the money you need. And take not a penny of interest. And you won t hear me. This is kindness I m offering. Bassanio burst into laughter. This is kindness! he exclaimed. I ll prove it s kindness, said Shylock. Come with me to an attorney. Sign your guarantee and just for fun if you don t repay me on such and such a day, in such and such a place, such sum or sums as are mentioned in the contract, let the forfeit be stated as a full pound of your good flesh, to be cut off and taken from whatever part of your body I choose. Agreed, said Antonio I ll sign such a contract and say the Jew is full of kindness. Bassanio gripped his arm and took him aside. You mustn t sign such a contract for me. I d rather manage without. Oh don t worry, man, said Antonio. I won t forfeit it. Within the next two months that s a month before the contract expires I m expecting a return of nine times the value of this loan. Shylock threw his hands up. Oh, Father Abraham! he exclaimed. These Christians, whose own tough dealings make them suspicious of everyone! Please tell me, he said, appealing to Bassanio, If he should fail to repay me by this date, what would I gain by insisting on this penalty? A pound of flesh taken from a man is not as valuable, or profitable, as the flesh of sheep, cattle or goats. What I m saying is that I m offering this friendship to gain his goodwill. If he ll take it, fine: if not, goodbye. But in any event, don t run me down. Antonio ignored Bassanio s attempts to catch his eye. Yes Shylock, he said. I ll sign this contract. Then meet me at the attorney s immediately, said Shylock. Give him instructions for this playful contract, and I ll go and get the money, and see to my house, which I ve left in the unreliable hands of a wasteful wretch: and I ll be with you as soon as I can. As he turned to go back into his house Antonio s lip curled in a scornful grimace. Goodbye, to you, gentle Jew, he said. They began walking back up the street. The Hebrew would like to turn Christian, he said. He s getting kind. I don t like such fair terms from such a crook, said Bassanio. Come on, said Antonio, taking his friend s arm. There s no cause for concern. My ships are due home a month before the deadline. ACT 2 SCENE 1 A butler ushered the Prince of Morocco into the great hall in Belmont. He was accompanied by his colourfully dressed attendants. As for himself, he was splendid in gorgeous eastern robes and a spectacular green turban. He bowed graciously to Portia, who sat on a huge ornate chair, surrounded by her attendants. Nerissa sat beside her. At the other end of the hall the three great oak caskets waited. Portia invited the prince to sit on the chair opposite her, which he did, with several flourishes. She was aware of Nerissa s efforts to maintain a blank expression. She knew that she should, on no account, glance at her. She motioned the prince to begin his suit. Do not take a disliking to me because of my colour, he began. His voice was rich and deep, and he had a guttural accent. It s the dark uniform of those who live beneath the burning sun. Bring me the palest creature born in a northern climate, where the sun is too weak to melt icicles, and compare our love by cutting through our skins. That would prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine. I assure you, lady, this face of mine has struck fear into the bravest of men. I swear by my love that the most beautiful virgins of our country have loved it too. I would not change my colour, my gentle queen, except to win your love. As far as choice of a husband is concerned, replied Portia, I m not solely influenced by the things that normally appeal to a young woman s eyes. In any case, the lottery of my destiny removes the right to choose for myself. But if my father hadn t restricted me by his plan to give myself as his wife to whoever wins me by the method I explained to you, you, renowned prince, would have had as good a chance as any wooer. I thank you for that, replied the prince with a modest bow of his head. So please lead me to the caskets to try my fortune. By this sword, that dispatched the Sophy and a Persian prince who had won three battles against Sultan Solyman, I would outstare the sternest eyes that ever looked, be braver than the most courageous man on earth, snatch the young sucking cubs from the mother bear, even scorn the predatory lion, to win you, lady. But alas! If Hercules and Lichas were to throw dice to determine which was the greater, the higher number may, by luck, be thrown by the weaker of the two. In that way, Alcides could be beaten by his page. So could I also, being a hostage to fortune, lose what a less worthy man may gain, and die of grief. You have to take that risk, said Portia. You must decide either not to attempt to choose at all, or swear, before you choose, that if you choose wrong you will never again talk to another woman about marriage. So be warned. I agree! So come on, lead me to my fate. First, to the temple to make your vow, said Portia. After dinner you ll make your choice. Good luck to me then! exclaimed the prince. This will make me either the happiest or the most wretched of men. SCENE 2 Shylock s young servant, Lancelot Gobbo, very slowly opened his master s front door, peered round it, looked up and down the street, then came out and stood in front of the house. His mind was in turmoil. On the one hand he felt no guilt about running away from the Jew, his master the devil was at his elbow, tempting him, saying Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Lancelot, or good Gobbo, or good Lancelot Gobbo . Use your legs: get started: run away. But on the other hand, his conscience was saying no, be careful, honest Lancelot, be careful, honest Lancelot, or, using the same form of address as the devil had, honest Lancelot Gobbo don t run, don t take off. Then the valiant devil tells him to pack his stuff. Off you go, he says. Away! For heaven s sake, be bold, and run! Then his conscience, like a great weight on his heart says, very wisely, to him: My honest friend Lancelot, being an honest man s son an honest woman s son, more like it, because his father was a bit dodgy Lancelot, don t budge. Budge! says the devil. Don t budge! says his conscience. Lancelot shook his finger at the imaginary figure at his right elbow. Conscience, he said out loud, you give me good advice. He shook his finger in the other direction. Devil, he said, you give me good advice. To satisfy his conscience he would have to stay with his master, the Jew who, bless us all, was a kind of devil. If he ran away from the Jew he would be satisfying the Devil himself, bless us all! One thing was certain, the Jew was the devil personified. For heaven s sake, his conscience was being very tough on him to suggest staying with the Jew. The devil s advice was much more friendly. He tapped his left elbow. My heels are at your command, he said. I ll run. He narrowly missed knocking an old man off his feet. The old man grabbed his coat and clung to it with one hand as he righted himself. He held a basket in the other. Master young man, he said, please, which is the way to Master Jew s? Lancelot recognised the voice. He stepped away from the old man and looked at him. Good heavens, it was his own father! He was more than a bit blind, now, and didn t recognise his own son. He smiled. He would have a bit of fun with him. Master young man, old Gobbo said again, please, which is the way to Master Jew s? Turn right at the next corner, but at the very next corner turn left. Then at the last corner don t turn any way but turn down indirectly to the Jew s house, said Lancelot, shouting and speaking as rapidly as he could. By God s saints, it s a hard way to go, said old Gobbo. Can you tell me whether one Lancelot, who lives with him, lives with him or not? Are you referring to young Master Lancelot? Young Gobbo smiled. He was about to make the tears flow. Do you mean young Master Lancelot? he shouted in the old man s ear. Just Lancelot, with respect to your mastership. That s right, Master Lancelot. But don t talk about Master Lancelot, old man, because the young gentleman as a result of something like fate, destiny, or some such old wives tale, the fatal sisters or some such thing is deceased, or as one would say in plain terms, gone to heaven. Oh God forbid! exclaimed the old man. The boy was the staff of my old age: my prop! He dropped his basket and sunk to the ground. Lancelot knelt beside him and smiled. Do I look like a stick or a corner post, a staff or a prop? Don t you recognise me father? His father looked at him closely then gave up and shook his head. Alas, sir, I m almost blind, I don t recognise you. No, even if you weren t blind, you might still not recognise me. It s a wise father that knows his own child. He sat beside his father in the street. Well, old man, he said, I ve got news about your son. Give me your blessing. The truth always comes out and murder can t be concealed for long, even though a man s son may be, but in the end the truth will out. Old Gobbo took his son s arm. Please, sir, stand up. Lancelot helped him up and he scrutinised the young man s face. He shook his head. I m sure you aren t my boy, Lancelot. Come on now, said Lancelot, let s stop fooling around: give me your blessing. I am Lancelot, who was your boy, who is your son, and who will always be your child. I can t believe you re my son. I don t know what to say to that, said Lancelot. But I am Lancelot, the Jew s servant and I m certain that your wife, Margery, is my mother. The old man started. Her name is Margery! he exclaimed. I swear, if you are Lancelot, you re my own flesh and blood. Thank God! His hands reached towards Lancelot s face but the young man turned his back to him and his hands landed on the back of his son s head. What a beard you ve got! he exclaimed. You ve got more hair on your chin than my carthorse, Dobbin s, got on his tail! Lancelot laughed. Dobbin s tail must go backward, he said. I m sure he had more hair on his tail than I had on my face last time I saw him. Lord how you ve changed! Old Gobbo stared at him, trying to see him. How do you get on with your master? I ve brought him a present. Come on now, how do you get on? So so, said Lancelot. But for my own part, as I ve made up my mind to run away I won t rest till I ve covered some distance. My master s a real Jew. Give him a present? Give him a noose! I m starving in this job. You can count every one of my fingers with my ribs! Father, I m glad you ve come. Give your present to a certain Master Bassanio, who issues beautiful uniforms. Either I ll work for him or run as far away as I can. Oh, what a co-incidence! Look, he s coming this way. Go to him father: if I work for the Jew any longer then I m a Jew! Bassanio was walking toward s Shylock s house. His servant, Leonardo, and a few other young servants were with him. He was talking to one of them as he walked. Yes, you can do that, he was saying, but hurry up about it and make sure that supper is ready by five o clock at the very latest. See that these letters are delivered, and order the servants uniforms from the tailor, and ask Gratiano to come to my house later. Lancelot turned his father, pointed him towards Bassanio and gave him a shove. Go to him, father, he said. The old man groped the air until his hand found Bassanio s doublet then he bowed low in front of him. God bless your worship! he exclaimed. Thank you, said Bassanio, stepping back. Did you want something? This is my son, sir, a poor boy Lancelot interrupted him. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew s servant who, as my father will explain He has a great ambition, sir, as they say, to serve Lancelot pushed the old man aside. Well the short and long of it is that I serve the Jew, but would like, as my father will explain He nudged the old man. He and his master, with respect to your worship, are scarcely on speaking terms, said Old Gobbo. To cut a long story short, said Lancelot, the plain truth is that the Jew, having treated me badly, makes me as my father, being an old man, will explain to you. Old Gobbo lifted his basked and held it up in front of Bassanio s face. I have here a dish of doves that I would like to give to your worship, and my request is Very briefly, said Lancelot, his request concerns me, as your worship will find out from this honest old man, and though I say it myself, old man, although poor man, my father Bassanio laughed. One can speak for both of you. He looked Lancelot up and down. What is it you want? To work for you, sir, said Lancelot. That s the heart of the matter, sir, said Old Gobbo. I know you well, said Bassanio. Your request is granted. Your master, Shylock, spoke to me today and recommended you, if it s real promotion to leave a rich Jew s service to become a follower of such a poor gentleman. The old proverb fits my master, Shylock, and you, sir. You have the grace of God and he has the money. You ve put it well, said Bassanio. Go with your son, old man. He put his hand on Lancelot s shoulder. Take your leave of your old master and go and find my house. Give him a fancier uniform than all the others, he told one of the young servants. Make sure it s done. Lancelot could hardly believe it. His mind was a blur. Bassanio took Leonardo aside to have a word with him and Lancelot grabbed hold of his father s shoulders. He guided him in the direction of Shylock s house. After you, he said. I can t get a job, can I? I don t have a tongue in my head, huh? Well. He held his palm upward. Have you ever seen a palm that indicates a better fortune? Come on, look at this lifeline. And that small matter of women. Fifteen wives is nothing. Eleven widows and nine virgins is nothing to a man like me. And then to escape drowning three times, not to mention not getting caught in bed with those women. Those are all minor matters. Well, if fortune is a woman, she s the right girl for this job. Come on father, I ll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye. Old Gobbo entered slowly, feeling his way through the door. Lancelot followed. Bassanio completed his instructions to Leonardo. Take care of everything, please, good Leonardo. And when you ve done everything and packed carefully, come back as fast as you can. I m dining with my noble friend tonight. Off you go then. I ll do my best, said Leonardo. He encountered Gratiano at the end of the street. Where s your master? said Gratiano. Leonardo pointed. He s over there. Gratiano called to his friend. Bassiano! Gratiano! Bassiano came hurrying towards him. I need a favour, said Gratiano. You have it. Don t say no to this, said Gratiano. I want to go with you to Belmont. Well then you must come with me. But listen Gratiano. You re too wild, too rude, too outspoken. To our eyes, those aren t faults: but with people who don t know you they re inappropriate. I beg of you, please try and tame your high spirits a little let s have a bit of modesty otherwise your behaviour will spoil things in Belmont and destroy my chances. Gratiano drew himself up. Signior Bassanio, he said. Listen to me. If I don t dress in a sober manner, talk respectfully, swear only now and again, carry prayer-books in my pocket, assume a modest look even more than that, when they say grace, take off my hat, and sigh, and say amen : be on my best behaviour at all times, like one bent on pleasing his grandmother never trust me again! Bassanio regarded him for a moment then nodded. Well we ll see how you behave. Gratiano shook his friend s hand vigorously. Yes, but we won t count tonight. You mustn t judge me on what we do tonight! Of course not: that would be a pity. I would beg you, instead, to be at your best tonight, because our friends intend to have a good time. But goodbye for now: I have some business to attend to. And I must find Lorenzo and the others. But we ll all come to you at dinner time. SCENE 3 Shylock s daughter, Jessica, escorted Lancelot to the door. I m sorry you re leaving my father like this, she said. Our house is hell, and you, a merry devil, relieved it of some of its tedium. But goodbye, and here s a ducat for you. She looked at him hesitantly then drew a letter out of her pocket. Lancelot, tonight at supper you ll see Lorenzo, who will be a guest of your new master. Give him this letter, and do it secretly. And so, farewell. I don t want my father to catch me talking to you. Adieu, said Lorenzo. My tears speak for me. Most beautiful pagan! Most sweet Jewess! I m much mistaken if a Christian didn t seduce your mother to produce you. But goodbye. These foolish tears are unmanly. Goodbye! Jessica watched him go then shut the door. It was goodbye to Lancelot. What a terrible sin it was in her to be ashamed to be her father s child. But although she was his natural daughter she wasn t his daughter in other ways. Oh Lorenzo! If he kept his word all her problems would be over. She would become a Christian and be his loving wife. SCENE 4 Bassanio s friends were making their arrangements for the fancy-dress party they had planned for the evening. They stood on a corner, trying to come to some agreement. No, Lorenzo was saying. We ll slink away at suppertime, get into our costumes at my lodgings and be back within an hour. We re not ready yet, said Gratiano. We haven t arranged the torchbearers yet, said Salerio. It s no good unless it s properly organised, said Solanio. It s better to drop it. It s only four o clock, said Lorenzo. We ve got two hours to get ready. His face became animated as Lancelot approached, hurrying. What s the news, friend Lancelot? Lancelot thrust the letter at him. If you d like to open this you ll find out. Lorenzo scrutinised the envelope. I recognise the handwriting, he said. It s beautiful, and the beautiful hand that wrote it is whiter than the paper it s written on. A love letter, I ll bet! exclaimed Gratiano. Lancelot made to walk on. If I may go, he said. Where are you going? said Lorenzo, looking up from the letter. Indeed sir! Lancelot sniggered. To invite my old master, the Jew, to supper with my new master, the Christian. Hold on, said Lorenzo. He took a ducat out of his pocket. Take this. Tell dear Jessica I won t let her down. Tell her in private. Lancelot grinned and took off. Go gentlemen, said Lorenzo. Get ready for tonight s masque. I ve arranged my own torchbearer. Right, said Salerio. I ll get on with it straight away. Me too, said Salanio. Meet me and Gratiano at Gratiano s in about an hour. Perfect, said Salerio. When they had gone Gratiano said: Wasn t that a letter from the beautiful Jessica? I have to tell you everything, said Lorenzo. She s told me how to take her from her father s house, what gold and jewels she ll bring, and how she s going to dress as a page. If ever the Jew gets to heaven it will be because of his daughter. May misfortune never cross her path unless it s because she s the daughter of a Jew! Come with me. Read this as we go. Jessica s going to be my torchbearer. SCENE 5 Shylock and Lancelot came out of Shylock s house together. Shylock shook his head and tutted. Well you will see, he said. Your eyes will be the judge as to the difference between Old Shylock and Bassanio. He turned impatiently to the open door. Jessica! he called. You won t stuff yourself as you ve done with me. What, Jessica! Or sleep and snore and wear out your clothes. He called more insistently: What, Jessica, I say! He was holding a ring of keys and he rattled them impatiently. Lancelot placed his hands around his mouth. Jessica! he shouted. Who told you to call? said Shylock, irritably. I didn t tell you to call! Your worship always said that I never did anything without being told to, said Lancelot. Jessica came out to them. Did you call? What do you want? I ve been invited to dinner, Jessica, said Shylock. Here are my keys. I don t know why I m going, though. I haven t been invited out of love. They re flattering me. But still, I ll go in hatred, to eat the wasteful Christian s food. Jessica, my girl, look after my house. I really don t want to go. I ve got a premonition that something bad s going to happen because I dreamt of moneybags last night. I beg of you, go, said Lancelot. My young master is looking forward to your bad temper. As I am his, snapped Shylock. And they ve planned something together. I won t exactly go as far as to say that you ll see a masque Lancelot have him an exaggerated wink, but if you do it wasn t for nothing that my nose bled on last Black Monday, at six o clock in the morning, when it occurred that year on Ash Wednesday What! Are there going to be masques? Listen to me Jessica. Lock my doors. And when you hear the drum and the atrocious squealing of the curved fife, don t climb up to the window and thrust your head out into the street to stare at the Christian fools with their painted masks. Plug my house s eyes I mean close the shutters and don t allow the sound of shallow foolishness to enter my sober house. By Jacob s staff I swear I don t feel like eating out tonight. But I will go. Go ahead of me, you, and tell them I m coming. I m going, sir, said Lancelot, but he hung back for a moment. Miss, he whispered to Jessica. Look out of the window because there will be a Christian coming by, who will be worth a Jewess eye. What did that foolish offspring of Hagar say? demanded Shylock as Lancelot went off, whistling. He said, goodbye mistress, nothing else, said Jessica. The lad is harmless, but he s a huge eater, a snail-slow worker, and he sleeps more during the day than a wildcat. I won t have drones in my house so I ll let him go. To someone whom he can help waste borrowed money. Well, Jessica, in you go. I may be back very soon. Do as I ve told you and lock the doors behind you. Fast bind, fast bind, a proverb always appropriate to a thrifty mind. Jessica watched him stride off. Goodbye, she thought. And if nothing went wrong she had lost a father and he had lost a daughter. She went inside and shut the door. SCENE 6 Gratiano and Salerio walked to the Jewish quarter and stopped at the end of Shylock s street. They had their masks on. This is the porch under which Lorenzo told us to wait, said Gratiano. He s late, said Salerio. And that s a strange thing. Lovers are usually in a big hurry. Oh, the doves of Venus fly ten times faster to seal the bonds of new-found love than they do to maintain old friendships, said Salerio. That s always the case, said Gratiano. Who gets up from dinner with the same keen appetite as when he sits down? Where is the horse that repeats the fiery enthusiasm of its early steps when it s on its way home? The chase is always more exciting than the catch. How like a youngster the garlanded ship sets out from her harbour, proudly riding the brisk wind, and how like the prodigal son she returns, with weather-battered timbers and ragged sails, thin, torn and ruined by those brisk winds! Here s Lorenzo now, said Salerio as Lorenzo came hurrying towards them, also masked. Shhh, we ll continue this another time. Good friends, said Lorenzo. Sorry I m late. I was held up by a business matter. One day, when you re stealing a wife, I ll wait just as long for you. Come. He strode down the street. This is where my father Jew lives. Hello! Anyone home? A window opened above them and Jessica s head appeared. Who are you? she said. Tell me so that I can be sure, although I think I recognise your voice. Lorenzo, and your love. Yes, Lorenzo! she exclaimed. And my love for sure! Because who do I love as much? And only you know whether I am yours. Heaven and your feelings know that you are, he said. Jessica raised a little casket. Here, catch this, she said. It s worth the trouble. She dropped it down to him and he caught it. I m glad it s night-time and you can t see me. I m ashamed of my clothes. But love is blind and lovers can t see the little follies they commit. If they could, Cupid would blush to see me changed into a boy. Come down, said Lorenzo. You must be my torch-bearer. What? Must I hold a light up to my shame? Indeed, it shines out quite enough as it is! Love is a modest thing and I should be concealed. And so you are, sweet one, he said, being in the lovely clothes of a boy. But come now, because it s getting late and they re waiting for us at Bassanio s party. I ll lock the doors and get more money. Then I ll be with you. She pulled the window shut. Well I never! exclaimed Gratiano. She s more like a gentile than a Jew! Lorenzo continued gazing at the window. I swear I love her dearly! As far as I can judge she s clever, and if my eyes can see at all, she s beautiful. And she s faithful, as she s just proved. And so, as she s clever, faithful and beautiful, she ll live in my heart forever. Jessica came out, dressed like a boy, locked the door and turned to them. Here you are, then, said Lorenzo and took her in his arms. Come on gentlemen, he said, let s go. Our friends will be waiting for us. Gratiano walked a little behind the others. They turned a corner. Antonio was hurrying towards him from the other direction. Who s there? he demanded when he saw the dim figure of Gratiano. Gratiano peered. Is that you, Signior Antonio? Shame on you, Gratiano! Antonio looked around exasperated. Where are all the others? It s nine o clock and our friends are waiting for you. The party s been cancelled. The wind is favourable and Bassanio s ready to embark. I ve sent twenty men out to look for you. Gratiano grasped Antonio s hand. I m thrilled, he said. I can think of nothing better than being under sail and gone tonight. SCENE 7 Portia s musicians announced the arrival of the two parties with a fanfare as she entered, side by side with the Prince of Morocco, their trains following behind. Portia sat on her great chair and addressed one of the servants. Go, draw the curtains aside and reveal the three caskets to this noble prince, she said. When the curtains were drawn the Prince nodded and went and stood before the first of the three caskets. The first, of gold, bears this inscription, he said. He leant forward to read it. Who chooses me shall gain what many men desire. He frowned, then moved to the silver casket. The second, of silver, promises this: Who chooses me shall get as much as he deserves. He appeared to ponder that. He shook his head thoughtfully. The third, made of dull lead, has a warning just as blunt: Who chooses me must give and risk all he has. He turned and looked at Portia. How will I know whether I ve chosen the right one? One of them contains my picture, she said. If you choose that one then I m yours as well. The Prince s eyes gleamed in anticipation. He threw himself on to the floor and crouched in prayer. May some god guide my judgment! he begged. He got up and rubbed his hands. Let me see. I ll read the inscriptions again. What does the lead casket say? Who chooses me must give and risk all he has. Must give? What for? For lead? Risk everything for lead? Something wrong with this casket. Men who risk everything do so hoping for a good return. A high, golden, mind doesn t stoop to things of such shabby appearance, so I won t give or risk anything for lead! He turned away from the lead casket with a dismissive sneer. What says the silver casket with it s pure colour? Who chooses me shall get as much as he deserves. As much as he deserves? Pause there, Morocco, and weigh your value even-handedly. If you were to be valued according to your own estimation you certainly deserve enough! But enough may not extend to the lady. And yet, to be afraid of my own worthiness would be to underestimate myself. As much as I deserve? He paced thoughtfully for a few moments then turned to the assembled observers with a huge grin. That s the lady, of course! I deserve her in terms of birth, and wealth, manners and quality of breeding. But above all else I deserve her in love. What if I went no further but chose here? Let s have another look at the inscription made in gold. Who chooses me shall gain what many men desire. Why that s the lady! The whole world desires her. They come from the four corners of the earth, to kiss this holy thing, this living saint. The Hyrcanian deserts and the vast wilds of Arabia have become highways for princes coming to see the beautiful Portia. The watery kingdom of the sea, who s ambitious head spits in the face of heaven, is no barrier to these foreign suitors: they come as though merely crossing a brook, to see the beautiful Portia. One of these three contains her heavenly picture. Is it likely that lead would contain her? It s damnable to think such a base thought, and unthinkable to imagine her as wrapped in a leaden shroud. Or shall I imagine her buried in silver, which is ten times less valuable than true gold? Oh, what a sinful thought! No gem as rich as she was ever set in anything less than gold. In England they have a coin that has the image of an angel stamped on the gold. It s only engraved, but in here a real angel lies on a golden bed. He held his hand out to the attendant who held a cushion with the golden key on it. Give me the key. I choose this one, and good luck to me. Take it, Prince, said Portia. And if my picture is in there, then I am yours. The Prince took the key, unlocked the casket and lifted the lid. He reached in eagerly then let out an anguished cry. Oh hell! He lifted the contents of the casket. A rotting skull, and in its empty eye socket there s a rolled-up manuscript. I ll read it. He unrolled the scroll and read it out loud: All that glisters is not gold, Often have you heard that told. Many a man his life has sold, But my outside to behold. Gilded tombs do worms infold. Had you been as wise as bold, Young in limbs, in judgment old, Your answer had not been inscrolled Far you well, your suit is cold. The Prince s face showed his feelings. Cold indeed, he said quietly. And time wasted. So goodbye warmth and welcome cold. Goodbye Portia. My heart is too heavy for a long leavetaking. He bowed formally. And this is how losers leave, he said. He turned and swept out, his attendants following. Portia waited till he was out of hearing then she laughed delightedly. Good riddance! she exclaimed. Draw the curtains. May everyone with his kind of vanity choose like him! SCENE 8 Salerio and Solanio sat in their favourite inn, at their favourite table, where they had a good view of the Grand Canal with its busy traffic. Why, man, I saw Bassanio setting sail, said Salerio. Gratiano has gone with him. I m sure Lorenzo hasn t. The villainous Jew woke the Duke with his shouting, said Solanio. The Duke went with him to search Bassanio s ship. Salerio laughed. He got there too late. The ship was underway. But the Duke was told at the dock that Lorenzo and his love-struck Jessica had been seen together in a gondola. Moreover, Antonio confirmed to the Duke that they weren t with Bassanio in his ship. Solanio shook his head. I ve never heard such passion so confused, so strange, so outrageous, so inconsistent as the dog Jew was shouting. He got up and started stamping around the room, clutching his head and imitating Shylock s voice. My daughter! Oh my ducats! Oh my daughter! Fled with a Christian! Oh my Christian ducats! Justice! The law! My ducats and my daughter! A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats, of double ducats, stolen from me by my daughter! Justice! Find the girl! She has the stones on her, and the ducats! Salerio wiped the tears of laughter from his cheeks. And all the boys of Venice follow him, shouting: His stones! His daughter! His ducats! Solanio sat down again and stared out at the ships moored alongside the wharf. He shook his head. Antonio had better meet his deadline or he ll pay for this. Yes, well remembered, said Salerio. I was chatting to a Frenchman yesterday: he told me that a rich Venetian ship was wrecked in the English Channel. When he said that I thought of Antonio and silently hoped it wasn t his. It would be a good idea to tell Antonio what you heard. But do it tactfully because it may upset him. No kinder gentleman walks on this earth, said Salerio. I saw Bassanio and Antonio saying goodbye. Bassanio said he would get back as soon as possible. Antonio said, No, don t: don t rush your business for my sake, Bassanio. Take as long as you have to. As for the Jew s bond, don t let it interfere with your wooing. Be happy and concentrate on your courting and such procedures as seem appropriate there. And at that his eyes swelled with tears and, turning his face away, he stretched out his arm behind him. Then, with deep affection he shook Bassanio s hand, and that s how they parted. I think he only lives for Bassanio, said Solanio. Right, then, eat up. Let s go and find him and try and lift him out of his dejection with some entertainment or other. SCENE 9 Nerissa came running into the casket room. The servants sprang up and took their positions. Quick, quick! she said. Draw the curtains right now. The Prince of Arragon has taken the oath and he s on his way to make his choice! No sooner had they drawn the curtains aside than Portia arrived with the Prince and his attendants. Look, there are the caskets, noble Prince, said Portia, once she had seated herself in her large chair. If you choose the one that contains my picture we ll be married right away. But if you fail, you must say nothing, my lord, and leave immediately. The Prince of Arragon clasped his hands together, closed his eyes and leaned back slightly. I m bound by oath to observe three things, he began. First, never to disclose to anyone which casket it was that I chose. Second, if I fail to choose the right casket, never in my life to woo a woman with marriage in mind. Lastly, if I m unfortunate in my choice, to leave you immediately and be gone. Everyone who comes to gamble for my worthless self has to swear to these conditions, said Portia. And I have accepted all this, said the Prince. May fortune grant me my heart s desire. He walked up and down in front of the caskets for a while then he paused at the lead casket. Gold, silver and base lead. Who chooses me must give and risk all he has. Hm. He turned and looked at Portia. You d have to be more attractive before I d give or risk. What does the golden chest say? Ah, let me see. Who chooses me shall gain what many men desire. What many men desire! By that many may be meant the stupid mob who choose by appearance, judging by the eyes alone. They don t penetrate to the heart of things but go about it like those birds that build their nests on outer walls, at the mercy of the weather, right in the way of danger. I will not choose what many men desire, because I don t jump with the common man, nor do I rank myself among the ignorant masses. Well then, to you, you silver treasure-house! Tell me once more what inscription you bear. Who chooses me shall get as much as he deserves. And well said too, because who goes out to seek his fortune, looking for honour, without already having high merit? No-one should assume a status he doesn t deserve. I wish that lands, titles, and public offices were never gained corruptly, and that honours were always earned by merit. How many men would keep their hats on instead of politely raising them? How many be ordered about rather than issue orders? How many labourers would come from the upper classes and how many noblemen would be created from the dregs and castoffs of society? Well. To my choice. Who chooses me shall get as much as he deserves. I will assume desert. He turned. Give me the key for this and immediately unlock my fortunes here. He opened the casket confidently then stood back, shocked. Too long a pause for what you find there, said Portia. The Prince of Arragon lifted something out of the casket then staggered backwards. What s here? he roared, holding a small object up. A gibbering idiot presenting me with a letter. I ll read it. He took the letter and threw the figure back into the casket. How unlike Portia you are! he exclaimed How very different my hopes and my deservings were! Who chooses me shall have as much as he deserves. Did I deserve no more than a fool s head? Is that my reward? He appealed to Portia. Do I deserve no better? To offend and to judge are two different things, said Portia. Arragon opened the letter. What s in it? he said. He read it out aloud. The fire seven times tried this: Seven times tried that judgment is That never did choose amiss, Some there be that shadows kiss: Such have but a shadow s bliss: There be fools alive, I wis, Silvered o er and so was this. Take what wife you will to bed, I will ever be your head: So be gone, you are sped. Arragon stood, his mouth open, staring at Portia. She shrugged then looked at Nerissa and smiled. The longer I stay the more of a fool I ll look, said Arragon. I came to woo wearing one fool s head, but now I m going away with two. Goodbye, sweet woman. I ll keep my promise to bear my fate with patience. He turned and left, sadly and slowly. Portia sighed. Another moth singed by the burning candle. Oh these pompous fools! When they make their choice they re too clever for their own good and make a mess of it. Nerissa laughed. The old saying is right: whether you end up hanged or married is a matter of fate. Portia got up. Come, she said. Draw the curtain. A servant met them at the door. Where is my lady? he said to Nerissa. Here I am. Portia was in a good mood. What can I do for my lord? Madam, a young Venetian has arrived at your gate to announce the approach of his master. He has brought substantial tokens that is to say, apart from salutations and courtesies, gifts of great value. I ve never seen such a promising ambassador of love. No sweeter April day ever anticipated the summer as well as this forerunner introduces his master. Stop now, please, said Portia. I m half afraid you re going to say he is family of yours, you spend so much time praising him. Come, come, Nerissa. I m dying to see this messenger of Cupid who arrives in this splendid way. Let s hope it s Bassanio, if it s the will of the god of love! said Nerissa. ACT 3 SCENE 1 Salerio and Solanio arrived at the inn at the same time and lingered in the street. Well now, said Solanio. What s the news on the Rialto? Salerio shook his head gravely. There s a rumour going around that one of Antonio s most richly laden ships was wrecked in the Channel the Goodwins, I think they call the spot: a very dangerous and fatal sandbank, where the carcasses of many tall ships lie buried, if the stories are true. I hope they aren t, but it s certainly true, without putting too fine a point on it, that the good Antonio, the honest Antonio oh I wish I could find the words to describe him adequately Come on, Salerio urged. Finish your sentence. Solanio was staring out towards the open sea. What? What are you saying? he said. Well, anyway, the end result is that he has lost a ship. I hope that will turn out to be the full extent of his losses, said Salerio. Let me say amen at once, agreed Solanio, in case the devil confounds my prayer, because here he comes in the form of a Jew! Shylock was going somewhere in a hurry. Hello Shylock, said Solanio, as he came past them. What news among the merchants? He nudged Salerio. Shylock s face was gaunt as he stopped and faced them full on. You knew! he snapped, shaking his finger at them, none as well as you of my daughter s flight. Absolutely, said Salerio. For my own part, I knew the tailor who made the wings she flew with. Solanio put his arm across Shylock s shoulders. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was ready to fly, and in any case it s natural for all of them to leave the nest. Shylock pushed his arm away. She s damned for it! he cried. That s certain. Salerio winked at Solanio. If the devil s her judge. My own flesh and blood to rebel! cried Shylock. Shame on you, you old scarecrow! exclaimed Solanio. At your age? I mean my daughter, who is my flesh and blood, said Shylock. Salerio laughed. There s more difference between your flesh and hers than there is between jet and ivory, more difference in your blood than between red wine and Rhine wine. But tell us now, have you heard whether Antonio has had any loss at sea or not? That s another bad deal I have, said Shylock. A bankrupt. A prodigal, who hardly dares show his face on the Rialto: a beggar, who used to come so smugly into the market place. Let him look to his bond! He always calls me a usurer. Just let him look to his bond! He used to lend money as a Christian courtesy. He d better honour his bond. Well I m sure that if he fails you won t take his flesh. What could you use it for? said Salerio. To bait fish with! snapped Shylock. If it will feed nothing else it will feed my revenge! He has insulted me and obstructed me half a million times. He has laughed at my losses, mocked my gains, scorned my race, thwarted my deals, alienated my friends, inflamed my enemies. And what s his reason? That I am a Jew! Hasn t a Jew got eyes? Hasn t a Jew got hands, organs, limbs, senses, likes and dislikes, passions? Fed with the same food, injured by the same weapons, vulnerable to the same diseases, healed by the same medicine, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us, won t we seek revenge? If a Jew wrongs a Christian, what is his recourse? Revenge! If a Christian wrongs a Jew, what should the penalty be by Christian example? Revenge, of course. I will carry out the villainy you teach me. And even though it will be hard, I will even outdo that villainy! The two watched him, exchanging glances, smirking to each other. Before either could make any cynical response a servant approached them. Gentlemen, he said, Antonio is at his house and would like to talk to both of you. We ve been looking everywhere for him, said Salerio. Someone was coming towards them, dressed in Jewish gabardine. Solanio laughed. Here comes another member of the tribe. You couldn t find a finer third unless the devil himself were to become a Jew. He signalled to Salerio and they went off, laughing. Thank God, Tubal! exclaimed Shylock. What news from Genoa? Have you found my daughter? I heard her spoken of several times but I couldn t find her, Tubal told him. He gripped his friend s arm. Shylock sank to his knees and clutched Tubal s robe. There, there, there, there, he sobbed. A diamond gone cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfurt. Such a curse never fell on our nation until now I didn t feel it until now! Two thousand ducats in that, and other precious, precious jewels. I wish my daughter were dead at my feet and the jewels stuffed in her ear! I wish she were lying dead at my feet and the ducats in her coffin! He looked up at Tubal s face. His eyes pleaded. No news of them? When Tubal shook his head he got up. Alright then. And another thing: I don t know how much the search has cost. Loss on loss! The thief has gone with so much, and so much more spent trying to find the thief. And no satisfaction, no revenge, no bad luck for anyone except that which lies on my own shoulders. No sighs but my sighs! No tears but my tears! Tubal put his arm round Shylock s shuddering shoulders. Yes, other men have bad luck too, he said. Antonio, as I heard in Genoa.. Shylock s sobbing stopped and he turned eagerly. What? What? What? Bad luck? Bad luck? Has had a merchant ship lost, coming from Tripoli, said Tubal. Shylock clasped his hands together and looked up to the sky. I thank God! I thank God! Is it true? Is it true? I spoke to some sailors who survived the wreck. Oh thank you, good Tubal. Good news! Good news! Shylock laughed loudly. You heard this in Genoa? Your daughter spent, so I was told, eighty ducats in one night in Genoa. Shylock groaned. You re sticking a dagger in me. I ll never see my gold again. Four score ducats at a sitting! Fourscore ducats! Several of Antonio s creditors travelled back with me to Venice and they swear he will be forced into bankruptcy. I m thrilled about that, said Shylock. I ll plague him. I ll torture him. I m thrilled about it. One of them showed me a ring that your daughter had exchanged with him for a monkey, said Tubal. Damn her! exclaimed Shylock. You re torturing me, Tubal. It was my turquoise ring. I got it from Leah before we were married. I wouldn t have sold it for a wilderness of monkeys. But Antonio is definitely ruined, said Tubal. Yes, that s true, that s very true, said Shylock. Go Tubal get me a lawyer. Give him two weeks notice. I ll have his heart if he defaults because, once he s been removed from Venice, I will be able to do business in my own way. Go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue. Go, good Tubal. At our synagogue Tubal. SCENE 2 Portia and Bassanio strolled in the garden of her villa, high on the hill that overlooked the blue sea. She was doing everything she could to delay the fearsome ceremony because she couldn t bear the thought of him making the wrong choice and leaving, never to return. She stopped and took his hand. Wait a while, she pleaded. Stay a day or two before you take the gamble. If you choose wrong I ll lose you. Therefore wait a while. Something s telling me although it s not love She looked away guiltily. that I don t want to lose you. Then she said quickly, in a whisper: although you know that hatred doesn t send the same message. She looked at him again, conveying her feelings with her eyes. Then she went on. But because you don t know me well and young women can only think their thoughts, not say them I d like to have you here a month or two before you make your choice. She stopped. I could tell you which one to choose .. she paused. His face was expressionless. but I m under oath not to. If you lose I ll never be another s and you ll make me wish for something sinful: that I had broken my oath. Shame on your eyes! she exclaimed and looked away. They have penetrated me and divided me in two one half of me belongs to you: the other half is yours too. I should say it s my own but what is mine is yours, so all of me is yours. Oh, these days owners don t often get their rights so, though I am yours in one sense, I can t really be. If that s true, Fortune should go to hell for it, not me! But I m gabbling on. It s only to slow time down, though, to draw it out, to stretch it, and stop you from making your choice. Bassanio drew her down on to a garden bench and took both her hands in his. Let me choose, he said. I feel as though I m on the rack. Being tortured, Bassanio? she said. Confess, then, the treason that is mingled with your love. None but the ugly treason of uneasiness, he said, which makes me afraid to enjoy my love. Snow and fire could exist more easily together than treason and my love. Yes, but I m afraid you re speaking from the torture rack, where men are forced to say anything. Promise me life and I ll confess the truth, he said, pulling a face that suggested the pain of torture. She laughed. Well then, confess and save your life! Confess and love would be the sum total of my confession. What a lovely torment, when my torturer tells me the answers that will set me free! But come, lead me to my fortune and the caskets. Go then! I am locked in one of them. If you really love me you ll find me there. They walked to the villa and to the room where the caskets waited. Their servants and companions had already assembled. Nerissa and the rest of you, stand aside. Portia gestured to the musicians. Let music play while he makes his choice. Then, if he loses, he will fade away in music, like a dying swan. To make the comparison more exact, my tears will be the stream and watery deathbed for him. She summoned up a smile and looked around at the assembled company. He may win, she continued. And what would the music be then? It would be like the fanfare that makes loyal subjects bow at a coronation. It s like those sweet bird sounds the dawn chorus that creep into the sleeping bridegroom s ear, summoning him to his wedding. And so he goes, as securely, and with much more love in him, than Alcides did when he rescued Hesione from the sea after the Trojans had sacrificed her to appease the sea-monster. Here, I am the sacrifice. The observers in the gallery are the women of Troy, come, with tears, to see the result of the sacrifice. Go, Hercules, if you win I will have my life back. I am far far more apprehensive than you, who are making the choice are. Bassanio walked slowly, thoughtfully, to the caskets. Portia signalled to the musicians, who struck up with recorders and drum, and began singing: Tell me, where is Fancy bred In the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished? It is engendered in the eyes, With grazing fed. And Fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring Fancy s knell: I ll begin it, Ding, dong, bell. Bassanio had stopped at the lead casket. Outward appearance can be misleading, he said. Portia gripped Nerissa s hand. The world is always taken in by ornament, continued Bassanio. In a court of law there is no plea, however tainted or corrupt, whose evil can t be disguised with a saintly voice. In religion there s no heresy that some serious scholar won t bless, and support it with the scriptures convincing words. There s no vice, no matter how obvious, that doesn t have some appearance of virtue. How many cowards, whose hearts are as false as stairs made of sand, still wear beards as manly as those of Hercules and warlike Mars, who, if you could see inside them, would reveal livers as white as milk? They grow their beards, putting on the cloak of valour to make themselves appear brave. Think about beauty and you will realise that it s often bought by weight and, when in the form of makeup, it works miracles in that those who use it most heavily are the lightest in their morals. Moreover, those golden silken curls that blow so seductively in the breeze on the heads of supposedly beautiful women often turn out to be the hair of someone now safely buried in a tomb. And so, ornament is only the inviting shore of a most treacherous sea: the beautiful scarf veiling a doubtful beauty. To sum it up, ornament is the apparent truth that, when needed, can deceive the most astute men. And so, gaudy gold, food for Midas, I ll have none of you. Nor you, silver, you pale common metal of coins but you, you insignificant lead, that seems to threaten rather than promise anything, you move me more than the eloquence of gold and silver does. And this is my choice. May it bring me joy! He held his hand out for the lead key. Portia gasped. All her fears were leaving her all those doubtful thoughts, all that unjustified despair: shuddering fear and green-eyed jealousy. She fought to contain her ecstasy, to control her expressions of joy. She had to reign her excitement in. She felt overwhelmed by love s blessing: she wanted it to be less in case it drowned her. Bassanio was unlocking the casket. He raised the lid, reached in and lifted the contents out. What do I find here? The beautiful Portia s portrait. He held it up. How goddess-like it is! Do these eyes move? Or are they reflecting the movement of my own? Here are lips parted with sugar breath. Only such sweetness should divide such sweet lips. Here, in her hair, the painter has been a spider, weaving a golden net to trap men s hearts, more surely than gnats caught in webs. But her eyes! How did he see to do them? Having made one, I would think it must have blinded him and made it impossible for him to do the other one. But look. Just as my praise understates the beauty of this picture, the picture limps behind the original. He took a scroll out of the casket. Here s the scroll that tells me my fate. You that choose not by the view, Chance as fair and choose as true: Since this fortune falls to you, Be content, and seek no new. If you be well pleased with this, And hold your fortune for your bliss, Turn you where your lady is, And claim her with a loving kiss. A wonderful scroll! He turned and went to Portia. Beautiful lady, with your permission, I come with a letter of introduction, to give and to receive. He stood, wanting to kiss her but holding back, not sure of himself. I m like a competitor for a prize, thinking from the applause and cheering that the spectators have been pleased but feeling a bit disorientated, hesitating with doubt that the clapping is for him. That s how I feel, thrice beautiful lady: exactly like that, wondering whether what I m seeing is real: and will do so until it s confirmed, signed and ratified by you. She stood up and went to him. She took both his hands. You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand, she said. Exactly as I am. Although I have no desire to better myself in my own regard, for your sake I wish I were sixty times better, a thousand times more beautiful, ten thousand times richer. To stand high in your estimation I would like to improve myself in virtue, beauty, wealth and friends. The truth is that I m really not much. The sum total is an uneducated girl, untaught, inexperienced: happy in this one thing that she is not too old to learn: even happier in that she s not too stupid to learn, and happiest of all in that she surrenders herself to be instructed by you as her lord, master and king. She stretched up towards him and they kissed. Myself and what is mine has now been transferred to you. Until a moment ago I was the lord of this beautiful house, master of my servants, queen of my own life, and now, right now, as from this moment, this house, these servants and I, myself, are yours my lord s. She took a ring off her finger. I give them with this ring. She put it on his finger. If you part from it lose it or give it away it will mean the end of your love and it will be my reason for blaming you. Bassanio was overwhelmed. Madam, he said. I m speechless. Only the blood in my veins speaks. I m in a state of such confusion, like a rapturous crowd being addressed by a beloved prince, all shouting at once. Each enthusiastic voice joins the others to make a wordless tumult of joy, expressing nothing and everything. But when this ring is separated from this finger, it will be the end of life. It will mean that Bassanio s dead. Nerissa came forward to join them. Gratiano followed her. My lord and lady, said Nerissa, it s now the turn of those who ve stood by and seen our wishes come true to cry good joy. Good joy my lord and lady! Gratiano gripped his friend s hand. My lord Bassanio and my gentle lady, he said. I wish you all the joy that you could yourselves wish for: I m sure you don t need my good wishes. And when you marry, I ask your permission to be married at the same time. Bassanio laughed. With all my heart. He gave Gratiano a friendly punch. If you can find a wife! Gratiano bowed exaggeratedly. I thank your lordship you ve found me one. He took Nerissa s hand My eyes, my lord, are as quick as yours. You saw the mistress I beheld the maid. You loved I loved. I needed no more of a spur than you, my lord. Your fate depended on those three caskets so, as it turned out, did mine, because, after wooing her till I sweated and swearing my love till my mouth was dry, at last if promises last I got the promise from this beautiful one here, of her love, on condition that you got the mistress. Portia couldn t contain her delight. Is this true, Nerissa? Madam, it is, if you re happy with it. And you, Gratiano, said Bassanio, are you serious? Very serious, my lord, said Gratiano. Our wedding celebration will be enhanced by your marriage, said Bassiano. We ll bet a thousand ducats we have a son first, said Gratiano, smiling at Nerissa. What a thing to bet on, said Nerissa through her blushes. Well we won t win that bet if we don t do something about it! said Gratiano. There was an awkward silence and the situation was saved by the arrival of Lorenzo, Jessica and Salerio. Ah, look who s here, said Gratiano. Lorenzo and his infidel? And what s this? My old Venetian friend, Salerio. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome! exclaimed Bassanio. If I can be so presumptuous, being so new here. Sweet Portia, with your permission, I welcome my friends and countrymen. So do I, my lord, she said. They re very welcome. I thank you, sir, said Lorenzo, shaking Bassanio s hand. I hadn t planned to see you here but I bumped into Salerio and he begged me to come with him, not taking no for an answer. I did, my lord, said Salerio, and I had a good reason for doing so. He handed Bassanio a letter. Signior Antonio sends his compliments. Before I open this letter, I beg of you, tell me how my good friend is, said Bassanio. Not sick, my lord, unless it s in his mind nor well, unless in his mind. His letter there will explain it all. Gratiano pointed discreetly at Jessica, who was looking uncomfortable. Nerissa, go and cheer that stranger up, he whispered. Make her feel at home. He turned to Salerio as Nerissa went to welcome Jessica. Your hand, Salerio. What s the news from Venice? How s that great merchant, good Antonio? I know he ll be pleased about our success. We are the Jasons! We have won the fleece! I wish you had won the fleece that he s lost, said Salerio. He took Gratiano aside. Portia watched Bassanio s face as he read Antonio s letter. There had to be something very serious in its contents to drain Bassanio s face of colour like that. A dear friend must have died. Nothing else could change the demeanour of a normal man in that way. It was getting worse as he read. She touched his arm. With your permission, Bassanio, she said. I am your other half: I will readily share half of anything this letter contains. He turned and looked at her with eyes welling with tears. Oh dearest Portia! he exclaimed. Here are some of the most unpleasant words ever written on paper. Gentle lady, when I first declared my love to you, I told you openly that all the wealth I had ran in my veins. I was a gentleman and told you the truth. And yet, dear lady, in rating myself at nothing you will see how much I was boasting. I should then have told you I was less than nothing because, in fact, I ve indebted myself to a dear friend and, to supply my needs, put him in debt to his worst enemy. Here is a letter, lady. The paper is like the body of my friend, and every word written on it is a gaping wound, spilling lifeblood. But is this true, Salerio? Have all his projects failed? Not even one saved? From Tripoli? From Mexico and England: from Lisbon, Africa and India, and not one vessel escaped the dreadful touch of shipwrecking rocks? Not one, my lord. And moreover, it seems that even if he had the ready money to discharge the debt the Jew wouldn t take it. I ve never known any creature in human form with such a sharp appetite for destroying a man. He pesters the duke from morning till night, insisting that it s contrary to the principle of equality before the law to deny him justice. Twenty merchants, the duke himself, and the most exalted noblemen, have all tried to reason with him but none of them can budge him from his vengeful cause of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond. Jessica had been listening with interest and felt the need to tell them about her inside knowledge. When I lived at home I heard him swear to his countrymen, Tubal and Chus, that he would rather have Antonio s flesh than twenty times the money he owed him, she said. And I know, my lord, that if law, authority and power don t do something to stop him poor Antonio s in a lot of trouble. Is it your dear friend that s in this trouble? said Portia. Bassanio nodded sadly. My dearest friend, the kindest of men, the most charitable and tireless of those who do good works. One with more Roman-like honour about him than anyone in Italy. How much does he owe the Jew? said Portia. Three thousand ducats. Because of me. Is that all? Portia threw her eyes up. Give him six thousand and cancel the bond. Double six thousand and then treble that before a friend of the type you ve described will lose even a hair of his head because of Bassanio. She paced briefly while everyone stood watching her in silence, then she turned and faced Bassanio. First, come with me to the church and make me your wife, she said. Then go back to Venice to be with your friend because you re not going to sleep with Portia until you have peace of mind. You ll take enough gold to pay this petty debt twenty times over. When it s paid you ll bring your dear friend back here with you. In the meantime Nerissa and I will live like virgins and widows. Come on, off you go then, and because you have to leave on your wedding day, welcome your friends, show a cheerful face. Since you have cost so much I will love you accordingly. But read your friend s letter to me. Bassanio read the letter: Dear Bassanio, my ships have all miscarried, my creditors are becoming cruel. My assets are few. My bond to the Jew is due, and since in paying it I have to die, all debts are cleared between you and me if only I could see you again before my death. Not withstanding, make your own decision. If your love doesn t persuade you to come, don t let this letter do that. Oh my love! exclaimed Portia. Get ready and go at once! As I have your sincere permission to leave you I ll go immediately. Bassanio kissed her tenderly. I won t sleep till I return. SCENE 3 Antonio had gained permission to leave the prison to visit Shylock. He wanted the chance to try and reason with him. The Duke had had to grant Shylock s suit and he was going to hear the case unless the two parties could come to an agreement. A gaoler guarded Antonio and the merchant s friend, Solanio, accompanied them. Shylock came out into the street to meet them and, in his anger, refused even to hear what Antonio had come to say. He addressed the gaoler instead. Gaoler, guard him well! he shouted. When Solanio opened his mouth to speak he gestured violently. Don t talk to me about mercy, he yelled. This is the fool who lent out money for free. Gaoler, guard him closely. Just listen to me for a moment, good Shylock, pleaded Antonio. I ll have my bond! said Shylock angrily. Don t try arguing against my bond! I ve sworn an oath that I ll have my bond! You called me dog without any reason, but since I m a dog, watch out for my teeth! The duke will give me justice. I m surprised, you worthless gaoler, that you re so foolish as to gallivant about with him at his request! Please! exclaimed Antonio. Listen to me! Shylock s face was red. He went up to Antonio and shouted right into his face. I ll have my bond! I won t listen to you! I ll have my bond so don t waste your breath! I won t be made a soft and stupid fool of shaking my head, changing my mind, sighing and giving in to Christian pleas. He turned and went to his door. Antonio took a few steps and he whipped round. Don t follow me! Don t talk to me! I ll have my bond! He went inside and slammed the door. Solanio shook his fist at the closed door. He s the most intransigent mongrel that ever kept company with human beings! Leave him alone, said Antonio. I won t pester him anymore with useless pleas. He wants my life and I know why: I ve frequently helped people who have come to me because they ve been caught up in his web. That s why he hates me. I m sure the duke will never allow this penalty. Antonio shook his head sadly. The duke can t interfere with the course of the law because if we denied foreigners their rights here in Venice it would undermine all our notions of justice and we can t do that because the success of our trade and commerce depends on our relationship with all the nations. So, go. These worries and losses have caused me to lose so much weight that I ll hardly have a pound of flesh to spare for my vicious creditor tomorrow. Come on then, gaoler, let s go. I pray only that Bassanio will come and watch me pay his debt. Apart from that I don t care! SCENE 4 Portia had a secret plan, a scheme to help her husband resolve the situation his friend had found himself in. She invited Lorenzo and Jessica to join her and Nerissa in the garden. She assured the young couple that Bassanio would be back very soon. Madam, said Lorenzo, although I say it in your presence, you have a great understanding of true friendship, judging from your acceptance of your husband s absence. But if you knew the man you re honouring, what a good gentleman you have lent this help to how much he loves my lord, your husband I know that you would be even prouder than you are of the help you are giving. I ve never regretted any good I ve done, she said, and I m not regretting it now because friends who talk and spend their time together, who love each other equally, must have such things as character, style and ideas in common. That makes me think that this Antonio, being the close friend of my lord, has to be similar to him. If that s true then I have rescued a soulmate from hellish cruelty very cheaply. But this is too much like praising myself, so not another word about it. I want to mention other things. Lorenzo, I m putting the management of my household in your hands until my lord s return. There s a monastery two miles away and that s where we re going to stay. I hope you won t object. It s something we have to do. Lorenzo bowed. Madam, I ll always concede wholeheartedly to your requests. My servants already know my plans and will obey you and Jessica in the absence of Lord Bassanio and me. So farewell until we meet again. Lorenzo bowed again. May you have peaceful thoughts and a happy time, he said. I wish your ladyship great peace of mind, said Jessica. Thank you for your good wishes, said Portia. She beckoned to a servant who stood at a discreet distance. It gives me pleasure to wish you the same. She watched them as they walked back to the house. Then: Now, Balthazar, I ve always found you honest and faithful so that s what I expect of you. Take this letter and hurry to Padua. Make sure you deliver it to my cousin, Doctor Bellario, personally. He ll give you some documents and some clothes. Bring them with lightning speed to the terminal where the public ferry leaves for Venice. Balthazar opened his mouth to speak but she stopped him. Don t waste time with words. Just go. I ll be waiting there. Madam, I ll hurry, he said. Come on Nerissa, said Portia when Balthazar had gone. I ve got work to do that you don t know about yet. We ll see our husbands before they even get a chance to think about us. Will they see us, though? said Nerissa. They will, Nerissa, but they ll think by our clothes that we re men. Portia laughed. I ll bet you anything that when we re both dressed as young men I ll be the more handsome of the two, wearing my dagger in a jaunty way and speaking in a high voice like someone between boy and man. I ll exchange my lady-like walk with a manly stride and talk about fighting like a swaggering youth. I ll exaggerate my experience of honourable ladies, of how they throw themselves at me and die broken-hearted when I reject them. Then I ll show remorse and wish I hadn t killed them. I ll tell twenty such stories so that everyone will believe that I must have left school at least a year ago. I ve got a thousand of those bragging stories in my mind, which I ll practise. What? Nerissa affected alarm. Are we going to be turned into men? Portia laughed. Shame on you! What a question that would be to ask if there were a dirty-minded person within earshot! But come, I ll tell you my whole plan in my coach, which is waiting for us at the park gate. So let s go: we have to travel twenty miles today. SCENE 5 Jessica enjoyed being mistress of Portia s house and her friend Lancelot Gobbo s presence made it even more pleasant. Today he was, for some reason, being quite personal, although thinking himself funny. They sat in the garden and Lancelot was teasing her about being a Jew. Yes absolutely, he was saying, because, look here, the sins of the father are visited on their children, so, quite honestly, I fear for you. He got up and took a few steps then turned and faced her. I ve always spoken frankly to you and now I m going to tell you exactly what I think about it so brace yourself: I honestly think you re damned. There s just one ray of hope that could do you any good and that s not really a legitimate hope either. And what hope is that, pray? she said. Indeed! You could partly hope that your father didn t conceive you and that you re not, in fact, the Jew s daughter. She laughed. That would indeed be an illegitimate kind of hope! So the sins of my mother would be visited upon me. Hmm, he said. Quite frankly then, I fear you are damned by both your father and your mother. So when I reject Scylla, your father, I bump into Charydbis, your mother. Well, either way you re doomed. I ll be saved by my husband, she said. He s made me a Christian. In all honesty, he s even more to blame, said Lancelot. We had enough Christians already as many who could exist side by side. This making of Christians will raise the price of pigs. If we all became pork eaters it wouldn t be long before we wouldn t be able to afford to cook bacon! I ll tell my husband what you said, Lancelot, she said as Lorenzo came towards them. Here he comes. I ll start getting jealous of you, Lancelot, if you keep getting my wife into corners like this, said Lorenzo. You don t have to worry about us, said Jessica. Lancelot and I have fallen out. He tells me flatly that there s no mercy for me in heaven, because I m a Jew s daughter. And he says you re not a good citizen because, in converting Jews to Christians, you re raising the price of pork. It s easier to explain that than to account for the pregnancy of that Moorish woman we ve been hearing about, said Lorenzo. She must be with child by you, Lancelot. It s very strange that a virgin should be pregnant, said Lancelot. But if she s no better than she should be then she s indeed worse than I took her for. Lorenzo and Jessica looked at each other then Lorenzo shook his head. See how any idiot can play with words. The time will come when all intelligence will be silenced and conversation only take place among parrots. Go in, idiot, tell them to prepare for dinner. That s already done, sir, said Lancelot. They all have appetites. Good lord, what a comedian you are! exclaimed Lorenzo. Then tell them to prepare dinner. That s done too sir. It needs only the table cloth. Lorenzo pointed to Lancelot s hat, which he had taken off when he d encountered Jessica and which he now held in his hand. Will you put that on, now? he said. Lancelot affected a humble manner. Oh no, sir! I know my place! Still more wordplay, said Lorenzo. Are you trying to display the totality of your wit all in one go? If you don t mind, try and understand a plain man with a simple request. Go to your fellow-servants. Tell them to set the table. Bring in the food. Then we will come in to dinner. Lancelot nodded. He put on a stupid look and repeated the instructions in the same tone but getting them confused. Regarding the table, sir, we ll bring it in. As for the food, we ll set it, and as far as your coming in to dinner is concerned, well, sir, we ll leave that to how you feel. He made an elaborate flourish with his hat, plonked it on his head and marched off. Lorenzo and Jessica watched him, laughing. He s good with words, said Lorenzo. The fool has a good vocabulary. I know of several famous comedians who find themselves at a loss for words on some occasions. How are you feeling, Jessica? Come on, tell me, my love, how do you like Bassanio s wife? More than I can say! exclaimed Jessica. Lord Bassanio should live a virtuous life because, being blessed with this lady, he finds the joys of heaven here on earth, and if he doesn t value that on earth then he ll never get to heaven. Indeed, if two gods should play some heavenly game with two earthly women as their betting stakes, and Portia were one of them, there would have to be something else offered with the other. This poor, crude world doesn t have another woman to match her. You have just such a husband in me as he has in a wife began Lorenzo, teasing her. She interrupted him with: You ll have to prove that! He kissed her. I will in due course. First, let s go to dinner. She stopped him. No, let me praise you while I have the appetite for it. He pulled her gently. No, please. Save it for table talk. Then, whatever you may say, I will be able to digest it with my dinner. Well, I ll lay it all out in front of you, she said as they walked happily in to dinner. ACT 4 SCENE1 Antonio, Bassanio, Gratiano, the court officials and the merchants who had come to observe the trial, all went silent as the Duke entered the courtroom. He sat down behind his raised bench. Well? Antonio s here, is he? he said. Ready, at your pleasure, Your Grace, said Antonio, who stood between two guards. The duke shook his head. I m sorry for you, he said. You have come to answer a stony adversary, an inhuman wretch, incapable of pity and devoid of even a drop of mercy. I ve been told Your Grace has taken great pains to dissuade him from his course, said Antonio. But as he s determined, and as the law can t help me avoid his revenge, I ll encounter his anger with patience. I ve resigned myself to submission to his merciless rage. Go, one of you, and call the Jew into the court, said the duke. He s waiting at the door, said Solanio. Here he comes, my lord. Make way for him and let him stand before me. The court was crowded and they moved to make way for Shylock, who strode in and bowed curtly to the duke. Shylock, began the duke, addressing him gently. Everyone thinks and I think so too that you intend to keep up this act until the last minute, and then, it s thought, you ll show your mercy and remorse even more strikingly than you ve shown your strange apparent cruelty. And whereas you re now demanding the penalty a pound of this poor merchant s flesh you ll not only waive that penalty but, touched with human gentleness and love, waive some of the debt as well, as you cast an eye of pity over the losses that have so burdened him enough to disable even a royal merchant and touch the brassy and stony hearts of merciless Turks and Tartars who are unaccustomed to showing sympathy. Shylock was silent. He stared defiantly at the duke. We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. The duke gestured to him to speak. Shylock cleared his throat. I ve told Your Grace what my intentions are. I ve sworn by our holy Sabbath to get the full penalty for failure to pay the bond. If you deny it you will be undermining your city s constitution and the rule of law. He looked around the court at the hostile faces. You ll ask me why I d rather have a measure of dead flesh than receive three thousand ducats. Well I won t answer that! Just say I feel like it. Is that good enough? What if my house were plagued by a rat and it suited me to pay ten thousand ducats to have it poisoned? Well, have you got your answer? There are some men who don t like the sight of a gaping pig s head: some who go mad if they see a cat: and others who can t help wetting themselves when they hear the nasal whine of the bagpipes. That s because our likes and dislikes govern our emotions. Now: your answer. Because no good explanation can be given as to why one man can t stand a gaping pig s head, why another man a harmless, useful cat: why yet another can t hear a woollen bagpipe without bringing inevitable shame on himself and committing an offence because he has been offended, I can t give an answer either. Nor do I want to, apart from a solid hatred and a loathing that I have for Antonio. That makes me pursue this money-losing case against him! Have you got your answer? Bassanio, incensed, was unable to stop himself from shouting out. This is no excuse for your cruelty, you callous man! I don t have to please you with my answers! snapped Shylock. Do all men kill the things they dislike? said Bassanio. Wouldn t every man just love to kill the things he doesn t like? said Shylock. Not every offence causes hatred in the first instance, retorted Bassanio. What? said Shylock, Would you allow a serpent to sting you twice? Antonio put his hand on his friend s arm. Please, he said. Don t forget, you re arguing with the Jew. You may as well stand on the beach and tell the sea not to reach its usual high point. You may as well ask the wolf why he has made the ewe bleat in bereavement of its lamb. You may as well forbid the mountain pines to sway or make a noise in the buffeting winds. You may as well do any hard thing rather than try and soften the hardest his Jewish heart. So I beg you not to try anything else or use any further means, but let me have the judgment and the Jew his will as soon as possible. Bassanio ignored his friend s pleas. Instead, he snapped his fingers and Gratiano handed him a leather bag. Bassanio went slowly across the tense courtroom till he faced Shylock. He held the bag out to him. For your three thousand ducats here are six. Shylock snarled. If every ducat in that six thousand were multiplied by six I would not take the money. I want my bond! The duke sighed. He shook his head sadly. How can you hope for mercy, not giving any yourself? What judgment should I fear, not having done anything wrong? Shylock turned and faced the assembled onlookers. Between you you have many a slave which, like your donkeys, your dogs and your mules, you use for abject and servile jobs, because you ve bought them. If I were to say: Free them marry them to your children, why make them sweat under heavy burdens? Give them beds as soft as yours and good food like your own, you would answer: The slaves are ours. And that s how I m answering you. The pound of flesh that I demand of him was expensive. It s mine and I m going to have it! If you deny me then shame on your law! It will mean that the laws of Venice have no force. He turned back to the duke. I stand for justice. Answer! Will I have it? There was uproar as the merchants noisily urged the duke to dismiss Shylock s suit. The duke held up his hand for silence. According to the power invested in me by the state I m able to dismiss the court, he said. But I have sent for Doctor Bellario, a learned lawyer, to resolve this case. He s due here today. Solanio called from the door: My lord, there s a messenger waiting outside, just arrived from Padua with letters from the doctor. Bring me the letters, said the duke. Call the messenger in. Bassanio gripped his friend s shoulder. Don t worry, Antonio, he said. Come on man, be brave. The Jew will have my flesh, blood, bones and all before you ll lose one drop of blood for me. Shylock watched the two friends through narrowed eyes. He touched the handle of the sheathed knife that hung from his waist. I am the runt of the flock and the most vulnerable, said Antonio. The weakest fruit drops earliest to the ground, and so will I. The best thing you can do, Bassanio, is stay alive and write my epitaph. Solanio escorted the messenger to the bench. He was a boy. He was, in fact, Nerissa, dressed as a boy. The duke nodded. Have you come from Padua, from Bellario? Nerissa bowed. From both, my lord. Bellario sends his compliments to Your Grace. She handed him a letter. Shylock had taken his knife out and was honing it on the sole of his boot. Why are you sharpening your knife so earnestly? said Bassanio. Shylock indicated Antonio with a slight nod. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there, he said softly. It s not on your sole but on your soul that you re sharpening your knife, cruel Jew! exclaimed Gratiano. But no metal not even the hangman s axe is half as sharp as your envy. Can no prayers move you? None that you re intelligent enough to make, retorted Shylock. Oh, rot in hell, you heartless dog! Gratiano itched to strike him. Justice is the culprit for allowing you to live! You almost make me waver in my faith and I m beginning to agree with Pythagoras that the souls of animals enter the bodies of men Your currish spirit is that of a wolf whose soul fled into your evil mother when he was hanged for murder, and possessed you in her womb, because your motives are wolfish, bloody, mean and ravenous! Shylock laughed. Until the time comes that you can shout the seal from off my bond you re only hurting your lungs with that noise. Do something about your brains, young man, or they ll fall apart in ruins. I m standing firm on the law. The duke had finished reading the letter and now he addressed the young messenger: This letter from Bellario recommends a young and learned lawyer to our court. Where is he? He s waiting nearby, to know your answer, said Nerissa. To hear whether you ll admit him or not. With all my heart, said the duke. Three or four of you officials go and escort him here with all due courtesy. In the meantime the court shall hear Bellario s letter. He began reading: Your Grace should know that at the time of receiving your letter I was very sick, but it so happened that when your messenger arrived a young lawyer from Rome was visiting me. His name is Balthazar. I told him about the dispute between the Jew and the merchant, Antonio. We consulted several books together. He knows my opinion, improved by his own learning which I cannot praise enough and he brings that with him as he takes my place at my request. I beg you not to judge him inadequate on account of his youth because I never knew such an old head on so young a body. I hope you will accept him. His performance will commend him more than my words can. The duke put the letter down and looked round at the assembly. You hear what the learned Bellario writes. And here, I take it, is the doctor himself. He got up and shook Portia s hand. You ve come from old Bellario? Portia was dressed in academic robes and a large doctoral hat. She looked absurdly young but they had all heard Bellario s letter. I have, my lord, she said. You are welcome. Take your place. The duke indicated the seat beside him behind the bench and she sat down. Are you acquainted with the dispute that occupies this court today? I m fully briefed on the case, she said. Which is the merchant, and which the Jew? Antonio and old Shylock, both come forward, said the duke. Portia looked at Shylock. Is your name Shylock? Shylock is my name, he said. Your suit is an unusual one, she told him. But it stands up legally and Venetian law can t challenge its validity. She turned to Antonio. You re in some danger from this suit of his, aren t you? Yes, that s what he claims, said Antonio. Do you admit to this debt? I do. Portia nodded. She looked at Shylock again. Then the Jew will have to be merciful. On whose authority must I? said Shylock. Tell me that! Portia looked at him for a long time before speaking. The quality of mercy is not strained, she said. It drops on to the world as the gentle rain does from heaven. It s doubly blessed. It blesses both the giver and the receiver. It s most powerful when granted by those who hold power over others. It s more important to a monarch than his crown. His sceptre shows the level of his temporal power the symbol of awe and majesty in which lies the source of the dread and fear that kings command. But mercy is above that sceptered power. It s enthroned in the hearts of kings. It is an attribute of God himself. And earthly power most closely resembles God s power when justice is guided by mercy. Therefore Jew, although justice is your aim, think about this: none of us would be saved if we depended on justice alone. We pray for mercy and, in seeking it ourselves, we learn to be merciful. I ve spoken about this to soften the justice of your plea. If you insist on pure justice, however, then this serious Venetian court has no alternative other than to pronounce sentence against the merchant there. I ll take the responsibility for my deeds! Shylock snapped. I m insisting on the law! That s the penalty and forfeit of my bond! Is he unable to pay you the money? Bassanio held up the bag of money. Yes, he can pay. I m offering it to him here in the court. Indeed, twice the sum. If that s not enough I m willing to be bound over to pay it ten times over, on forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart. If that s not enough then it s not the money that s at issue it s pure malice that s hiding the truth. I beg of you, use your authority to bend the law. Do a small wrong to bring about a great right and prevent this cruel devil from having his way. It can t be done, said Portia. There s no power in Venice that can circumvent an established law. It would create a precedent and encourage many other irregularities in the court. It s impossible. Shylock threw his hands up and laughed with joy. A Daniel come to deliver justice, he cried. Yes, a Daniel! Oh wise young judge, how I honour you! Please, she said. Let me see the bond. Shylock swiftly drew the scroll out of his pocket. Here it is, most reverend doctor. Here it is! She didn t unroll it. Shylock, she said. There s three times the money offered. My oath! he cried. My oath! I have sworn an oath before heaven. Do you want me to burden my soul with perjury? No, not for the whole of Venice! Portia opened the document and read it carefully. The court was hushed. Then: This bond is valid, she said. Accordingly, the Jew may lawfully claim a pound of flesh, to be cut, by him, nearest the merchant s heart. She rolled the document up amidst the shocked muttering of the merchants. Be merciful, she said. Take three times the money. Tell me to tear the bond up. When it s paid, according to its terms! Shylock spoke with the confidence of a man who has right on his side. You appear to be a good judge. You know the law: your interpretation has been very sound. In the name of the law, of which you are a welldeserving pillar, I ask you to proceed to judgment. I swear by my soul, no man has the power of speech enough to make me change my mind. I stand by the legality of my bond! I heartily wish the court to give its judgment, said Antonio wearily. Well then, this is it, said Portia. You must prepare your breast for his knife. Oh noble judge! exclaimed Shylock. Oh excellent young man! The intention and purpose of the law is to honour the penalty, which according to this bond, seems due, she said. That s very true! Shylock hopped about excitedly. Oh wise and upright judge! How much older you are than you look! Therefore, she said, looking at Antonio. Uncover your breast. Yes, his breast! Shylock pulled his knife out of its sheath. That s what the bond says, doesn t it, noble judge? Nearest his heart. Those are the very words. That s so, said Portia. Are there scales here to weight the flesh? I have them here. Shylock bent down and took a balance out of his bag. Portia nodded. Have a doctor standing by, Shylock she said. At your expense, to stop his wounds in case he bleeds to death. Shylock strode to the bench and swept the document up. Does it say that in the bond? It s not detailed, but what of that? she said. You d naturally do that out of charity. Shylock s nose was right up against the document as he perused it. I can t find it: it s not in the bond! he exclaimed. You, merchant, she said. Have you anything to say? Very little, said Antonio. I m fortified and mentally prepared. Give me your hand, Bassanio. Farewell! Don t grieve that I ve fallen to this state for your sake. In this, I m more fortunate than most men. Fortune usually lets the wretched man outlive his wealth to endure years of poverty with hollow eyes and wrinkled brow. I ve been spared that lingering misery. The two men embraced. Remember me to your dear wife. Tell her the story of Antonio s death: tell her how much I loved you speak well of me, and when the tale has been told ask her to judge whether Bassanio was once dearly loved. Regret only that you will lose your friend, while he doesn t regret that he paid your debt. If the Jew cuts deeply enough I ll pay it immediately, with all my heart. Bassanio looked into his friend s eyes. Antonio, I m married to a woman who is as dear to me as life itself, but I don t value life, my wife, and all the world more than I do your life. I would give them all, yes, sacrifice them all, right here and now, to this devil, to save you. He was about to say more but Portia interrupted him. Your wife wouldn t thank you much for that, were she here to hear you make that offer, she said. Gratiano, not very happy with the young judge s decision, supported his friend. I have a wife whom I swear I love, he said. I wish she were in heaven so she could plead with some higher power to change this currish Jew s mind! It s a good thing you re offering that behind her back! retorted Nerissa. Otherwise you d have an unsettled household. Shylock was impatient with all this. He felt contempt for the attitude of Christian husbands. He thought about his daughter. As things were he would rather she had married a descendant of that villain Barabbas than a Christian. We re wasting time, he said. The sentence, please! A pound of that merchant s flesh is yours, said Portia. The court awards it. The law allows it. Most rightful judge! Shylock was smiling again. And you must cut this flesh from his breast. The law allows it and the court awards it. Most learned judge! Shylock gripped his knife firmly. A sentence! He began moving across the court towards Antonio. Come, he said. Prepare! Antonio took his coat off. One moment, said Portia. There is something else. This bond doesn t allow you a drop of blood. The words expressly are a pound of flesh. But if, in cutting it, you shed one drop of Christian blood, under the laws of Venice your lands and goods are subject to confiscation to the state of Venice. There were gasps all round. Shylock stopped in his tracks and turned to face the young doctor. Gratiano was the first to speak. Oh upright judge! he exclaimed. Did you hear that, Jew? Oh learned judge! Is that the law? said Shylock. Portia opened one of the books she had brought with her and shoved it across the bench. You can see the act for yourself. As you urged justice so strongly, be assured that you will have more justice than you want. Gratiano went right up to Shylock and stood beside him. Oh learned judge, he said, imitating Shylock s voice. Look at that, Jew! A learned judge! Shylock looked from Portia to Antonio, whose face now showed the beginning of a smile. Bassanio stood beside his friend. He held out the bag of money. I ll take this offer then, said Shylock. Pay three times the bond and let the Christian go. Here s the money, said Bassanio. Portia raised her hand. Not so fast, she said. The Jew will have full justice. Wait: not so fast. He will have nothing but the penalty. Oh Jew! Gratiano punched the air with his fist. An upright judge, a worthy judge! And so, continued Portia, prepare to cut off the flesh. Shed no blood, and take care to cut off no more and no less than just a pound of flesh. If you take more or less than just a pound, even if it s as much as to make it lighter or heavier by the twentieth of a fraction: yes, if the scale turns as much as the weight of a hair, you die and all your property is confiscated. Gratiano, hanging on her every word, responded immediately with a whoop of joy. A second Daniel! A Daniel, Jew! Ha, infidel, I ve got you squirming! Shylock had stopped dead, the knife s point an inch from Antonio s chest. Why is the Jew hesitating? said Portia. Take your forfeit. Shylock s hand dropped to his side. His shoulders slumped. He half turned to Portia. Give me my capital and let me go, he mumbled. I have it ready, said Bassanio, digging into the bag and pulling a handful of the money out. Here it is. Portia held up her hand again and looked sternly at Bassanio. He has refused it in open court. He will have only justice, according to his contract. I say again, a Daniel! yelled Gratanio, a second Daniel! Thank you, Jew, for teaching me that word! Shylock turned and faced Portia. Am I not to have at least my capital? You ll have nothing but the penalty, she said. To be taken at your peril, Jew. Shylock looked around desperately. There was no sympathy anywhere. Well then, he said, may the devil give him the benefit of it! I won t stay and argue this any longer. He started for the door but Portia stopped him. Wait, Jew, she said. The law has another hold over you. She opened the law book again, read silently for a moment then nodded. With her finger on the text she said: It is stated in the Venetian law that if it should be proved against an alien that he has, by direct or indirect efforts, sought the life of any citizen, the person against which he has conspired is entitled to seize one half of his goods, the other half going to the state coffers. Furthermore, whether the offender lives or dies becomes the subject of the duke s sole discretion. I say that you fit into that category. It s clear that both indirectly and directly, you have plotted against the life of the defendant, and you have therefore incurred the penalty I ve described. Kneel, therefore, and beg the duke for mercy. Gratiano hugged himself with glee. Beg for permission to hang yourself! He danced about in front of Shylock. But of course, your property being forfeited to the state, you haven t got enough money left to buy a rope, so you ll have to be hanged at the state s expense! The duke gave Gratiano a look that silenced him. Then he looked around to bring the court back to order. To demonstrate the difference in our outlooks, I pardon your life before you ask for it. Regarding half your wealth it goes to Antonio. The other half goes to the state. Showing remorse could convert this to a fine. As long as it s the state s part, not Antonio s, said Portia. Shylock s voice was almost inaudible when he spoke. Just take my life as well, he whispered. When you take my house you take the means of maintaining it: you take my life when you take away the means whereby I live. What mercy can you give him, Antonio? said Portia. A free noose, said Gratiano. Nothing else, for God s sake! If it pleases my lord the duke and the court to waive the fine for one half of his wealth I will be content, said Antonio, provided that I may have the use of the other half during his lifetime, and that I can then give it, on his death, to the gentleman who recently eloped with his daughter. There are two more conditions: that in return for this favour he will immediately become a Christian: the other, that he make a will, here and now, in the court, leaving everything he owns at the time of his death to his son, Lorenzo, and his daughter. He will do this, said the duke, or I ll withdraw the pardon that I ve just pronounced. Are you satisfied, Jew? said Portia. What do you say? Shylock didn t look up. I m content, he muttered. Portia looked at Nerissa. Clerk, draw up a will, she said. Shylock sunk to the floor. I beg of you, he said, Give me permission to go. I m not well. Send the will after me and I ll sign it. Go then! said the duke. But make sure you do it! As Shylock rose unsteadily to his feet and began making his way slowly to the door, amid jeers, Gratiano barred his way. When you re christened you ll have two godfathers, he said. If I had been the judge, you would have had ten more to take you to the gallows, not the font. Shylock staggered to the door, the catcalls and jeers ringing in his ears. Then he was gone. The duke rose. Sir, he said to Portia, I invite you to my home for dinner. Portia s face expressed regret. I humbly beg Your Grace s pardon, she said. I have to go to Padua tonight and I must leave soon. I m sorry that you can t manage it, said the duke. Antonio, reward this gentleman because, in my opinion, you re seriously indebted to him. When the duke and his entourage had left Bassanio smiled at Portia. My dear sir, he said, my friend and I have escaped some serious penalties today, as a result of your wisdom. I have the honour of offering you the three thousand ducats that were due to the Jew as payment for the trouble you ve taken. And, in love and gratitude, we ll be indebted to you forever, said Antonio. :Portia laughed as she pushed the money away. Satisfaction is good enough payment, she said. In rescuing you, I ve achieved satisfaction, so I regard myself as having been well paid. I ve never been interested in money. She lifted he books and began walking to the door. Nerissa followed her. Please, remember me when we meet again. Good luck. And so, goodbye. Bassanio hurried after them. Dear sir, I really must insist, he said. Take a souvenir, as something to remember us by, not as a fee. Grant me two things, I beg of you: not to say no to me, and to pardon my insistence. She stopped and turned. You re very insistent, she said, and therefore I will concede. Let me have your gloves. I ll wear them to remember you by. Bassanio hurried to remove his gloves. She took his hand and touched his ring. And as a token of your goodwill I ll take this ring, she said. Bassanio pulled his hand away. No, don t pull your hand away, she said. I won t take anything else. Surely you won t refuse me? This ring, good sir? Bassanio didn t know what to do. Oh no, it s worthless. I wouldn t shame myself by giving it to you. Portia swept his objections aside with an impatient gesture. I won t have anything but this, she told him. I ve taken a liking to it. This ring has sentimental value for me, he said. I ll advertise for the most expensive ring in Venice and give it to you. But as for this ring, I beg you to pardon me. I see, sir, that you are very free with your offers, she said, preparing to leave again. You were the one who taught me how to beg, and now, it seems, you re teaching me how a beggar should be treated. She turned, but he pulled on her gown. Good sir, he said. My wife gave me this ring, and when she put it on my finger she made me promise that I would never sell it or give it away or lose it. That s an excuse many men use to avoid giving gifts, she said. And unless your wife is mad, knowing how well I deserve this ring, she wouldn t hold it against you forever that you gave it to me. Well, goodbye, and good luck. Antonio couldn t watch her go like that. Let her have the ring, my Lord Bassanio, he said. Balance his worthiness and my love with your wife s instruction! Bassanio pulled the ring off his finger. Run, Gratiano! he exclaimed. Catch up with him. Give him the ring, and bring him to Antonio s house if you can. As Gratiano rushed off Bassanio beckoned to his friend. Come, he said. We ll go to your house, and we ll both set off for Belmont early tomorrow. Come Antonio. SCENE 2 Portia stopped a short distance from the court. She reached into her bag, withdrew a document and handed it to Nerissa. Ask the way to the Jew s house, give him this will and make sure he signs it. We ll leave tonight and be home a day before our husbands. Lorenzo will be very pleased with this document. Gratiano came running out of the door of the court and down the street towards them. Dear sir, he panted, I m glad I ve caught you. My Lord Bassanio, has, on second thoughts, sent you this ring and requests your company at dinner. Portia shook her head. It s impossible. But I accept his ring with gratitude. Please tell him that. One last thing: please show my youth the way to old Shylock s house. I ll do so, said Gratiano. He turned, and Nerissa began to follow him but then she ran back to Portia. Sir, I d like a word, she said. Then whispering: I ll see if I can get my husband s ring the one I made him swear to keep forever. That will be easy, chuckled Portia. We ll get the old story that they gave the rings to men but we ll be able to contradict them beautifully. Off you go, hurry up. You know where I ll be waiting. Come Sir, said Nerissa, as she joined Gratiano. Will you show me to this house? ACT 5 SCENE 1 The moon was full and bright. Lorenzo and Jessica sat on a garden bench, enjoying being together. The moon shines bright, said Lorenzo. On such a night as this, when the sweet wind kissed the trees so gently that they didn t make a sound it was such a night, I imagine Troilus scaled the walls of Troy and sighed soulfully towards the Grecian tents, where Cressida lay asleep. Jessica reached up and kissed his cheek. On such a night, she whispered, Thisbe tiptoed apprehensively through the dew and, seeing the lion s shadow before he himself appeared, fled in dismay. Lorenzo thought for a moment, then: On such a night Dido stood on the wild coast, holding a willow wand, willing her lover to return to Carthage. Jessica smiled and searched her imagination. On such a night Medea gathered the magic herbs that rejuvenated old Aeson. On such a night, said Lorenzo, Jessica stole away from the wealthy Jew, and with an extravagant love, ran far away from Venice, to Belmont. On such a night, said Jessica, young Lorenzo swore he loved her completely, winning her soul with many vows of faith. She paused. And not one of them true! She gripped his hand tightly. On such a night, pretty Jessica slandered her lover, like a little shrew. And he forgave her. Jessica turned her head to listen. I would out-night you if we weren t interrupted. But listen, I can hear footsteps. Lorenzo got up. Who s that running around here in the silence of the night? he called. A voice came from another part of the garden. A friend. A friend? Lorenzo still couldn t see him. What friend? Your name, if you please! The young man, guided by Lorenzo s voice, found them. My name s Stephano and I ve come to tell you that my mistress will be here at Belmont before dawn. She s been stopping at every holy cross, where she kneels and prays for a happy marriage. Who s coming with her? said Lorenzo. Only a holy hermit and her maid. May I ask whether my master has returned yet? No. Nor have we heard from him. But let s go in, Jessica, and prepare a formal welcome for the mistress of the house. Lancelot s voice called from somewhere behind them. Who s that? said Lorenzo. Hello? Lancelot s voice again. Has anyone seen Mister Lorenzo? Mis-ter Lor-en-zo! Hello.Hello! Stop shouting, man, I m here, Hello? Hello? Where? Where? Here! Tell him a messenger has arrived from my master with his bag full of good news! My master will be here before morning! My love, said Lorenzo, let s go in and prepare for their arrival. But yet, why go in? My friend, Stephano, please go and tell the servants that your mistress is coming, and send the musicians out. They were alone again. How sweetly the moonlight falls on this flowerbed, said Lorenzo. We ll sit here and let the sound of music fall sweetly on our ears. The beauty of harmony is suited to stillness and the night. Sit down, Jessica. See how the dark sky is inlaid with patterns of bright gold. Even the smallest sphere that you can see sings like an angel in its movement, forever harmonising for the keen-eyed cherubim. Such harmony is natural to the immortal souls of angels, but as long as we are shut into these rude earthly decaying bodies we can t hear it. The musicians were coming towards them. Come on, called Lorenzo. Wake Diana with a hymn! Reach your mistress ear with sweet strains to draw her home with music. Sweet music makes me sad, said Jessica. That s because your mind is engaged by it, said Lorenzo. Just look at stampeding cattle or frisking young untamed colts, bellowing and neighing loudly, which is their natural behaviour if they happen to hear the sound of a trumpet, or if any tune reaches their ears, you ll see them all stop and stand still, the savagery in their eyes changed to a docile gaze by the sweet power of music. That s why the poet, Ovid, maintained that Orpheus music affected trees and stones and tides. There s nothing so brutish or stubborn or angry that music won t soften it for a while. The man who has no music in his soul, who isn t moved by the harmony of sweet sounds, is fit only for treasons plots and trouble-making. His spiritual life is as dull as night and his character as dark as Erebus. No man like that should be trusted. He signalled to the musicians to begin. Listen to the music. They held hands and listened to the sweet strains of the musicians art, and as the moon disappeared behind a bank of clouds, Portia and Nerissa arrived on the hill overlooking the house. That light we see over there is burning in my hall, said Portia. How far that little candle can throw its light. It s like a good deed shining in a worthless world. They began walking down the hill. If the moon were shining we wouldn t see the candlelight, said Nerissa. That s because the greater dims the lesser ones, said Portia. An imitator shines as brightly as a king until the king is actually there then he becomes less significant, like a small tributary when it flows into the main river. Listen! Music! It s from your house, madam your own musicians. Nothing is good out of context. I think it sounds much better than it does by daylight. The silence all around makes it better, madam. They walked on. The crow sings as sweetly as the lark when no-one s around, observed Portia. If the nightingale were to sing in the daytime, when every goose is cackling, it would be thought no better as a musician than the wren. There are so many things that appeal because they are seen in their right context. They arrived at the gate. Quiet now, said Portia. The moon has gone behind the clouds and doesn t look as though it s going to emerge. The music came to a stop in the middle of Portia s sentence. That s Portia s voice if I m not mistaken, said Lorenzo. Portia and Nerissa hurried towards them. He knows me, said Portia. Just as the blind man knows the cuckoo by its terrible voice. Lorenzo sprang up and went to meet them. Dear lady! he exclaimed. Welcome home! We ve been praying for our husbands welfare, said Portia. We hope they ll be back all the sooner because of those prayers. Are they back? Not yet, madam, but there was a messenger come to announce their imminent arrival. Go in, Nerissa, instructed Portia. Tell my servants not to say a word about our absence. Nor must you, Lorenzo, nor you, Jessica. Bassanio s personal fanfare sounded from somewhere beyond the gate. Your husband is nearby, said Lorenzo. That s his trumpet. Don t worry, madam, we re not tell-tales. The moon emerged from behind the clouds. It s like a version of daylight tonight, said Portia. It s just a little paler. It s like a day when there s no sunshine. Bassanio heard her and as he approached he said: We ll have day at the same time as they do in the Antipodes if you carry on walking about at night like this. As long as I spread light without being morally light! she exclaimed as she rushed into his arms. Because a loose wife makes an unhappy husband. May Bassanio never be that because of me. But what will be will be. Welcome home, my lord! Thank you, madam, said Bassanio. Welcome my friend. This is Antonio, to whom I m eternally indebted. So you are, completely, she said, because I understand that he was in grave debt for you. It was no more than I was prepared to pay, said Antonio, bowing. Sir, you re very welcome to our house, she said I intend to show you in more than words, so I ll cut these compliments short. Gratiano and Nerissa had been talking quietly together and there was a sudden outburst from Gratiano. By the moon above us I swear you re wronging me. I promise you, I gave it to the judge s clerk. As far as I m concerned he could lose his manhood as you take it so much to heart, my love! What! exclaimed Portia. A quarrel already? What s the matter? It s about a hoop of gold, a paltry ring she gave me, said Gratiano. It had an inscription on it, like a cutler s verse on a knife: Love me and never give me away. Why are you talking about the inscription or the value? said Nerissa. When I gave it to you you promised me that you d wear it till you died and that you d take it to the grave with you. If not for my sake but because of your vehement oaths you should have been more serious and kept it. Gave it to a judge s clerk! Never! As God s my judge the clerk who s got it will never have a beard! He will if he lives to be a man, said Gratiano. Indeed, if a woman lives to be a man! I swear by this hand, I gave it to a youth! exclaimed Gratiano. A kind of boy; a little well-scrubbed boy, no taller than you the judge s clerk, a chattering boy who begged me for it instead of a fee. I didn t have the heart to refuse him. Bassanio watched in silence as his wife approached Gratiano. You were at fault, she said. I must be frank with you. Parting with your wife s first gift so thoughtlessly. It was placed on your finger with vows and welded to your flesh with trust. I gave my love a ring and made him promise never to part with it, and there he stands. I would bet he would never lose it nor take it off his finger for all the world s wealth. Now, really, Gratiano, you ve given your wife too unkind a cause for grief. If I were her I d be furious. Bassiano was worried. The best thing would be to cut his left hand off and swear he d lost the ring defending it. And then the worst thing happened. Gratiano pointed to him: My lord Bassanio gave his ring away, to the judge, who begged him for it and, I have to say, he deserved it too. Then the boy, his clerk, who had taken so much trouble over the documents, begged for mine. Neither the boy nor his master would take anything but the two rings. Portia turned. Her expression filled Bassanio with horror. What ring did you give him, my lord? Not the one I gave you, I hope! There was no point in denying it. If I wanted to add a lie to a mistake I d deny it, but you can see the ring isn t on my finger. He held his hand up. It s gone. Just like the faithfulness from your heart! she exclaimed. By heaven, I won t come anywhere near your bed until I see that ring! Sweet Portia, he said. If you knew who I gave the ring to, If you knew who I gave the ring for, and if you could understand why I gave the ring, and how reluctantly I parted with the ring when nothing but the ring would be accepted, you would temper your anger. If you had realised the significance of the ring, or half the worth of she who gave you the ring, or understood your own obligation not to have parted with the ring then you wouldn t have parted with the ring, she said. What man could be so unreasonable, so insensitive, as to insist on having something of such sentimental value? Nerissa s right. I d bet my life that some woman has the ring. Bassanio tried to embrace her but she stepped back. No, on my honour, madam, on my soul, no woman had it! he exclaimed. Only a lawyer. He refused to take three thousand ducats and demanded the ring, which I refused him, and let him leave displeased. The man who had saved the life of my dear friend! What can I say, sweet lady? I was forced to send it after him: I was filled with shame and a sense of obligation. I couldn t besmirch my honour with such ingratitude. Pardon me, good lady, but if you had been there I think you would have begged me for the ring to give to the worthy doctor. Don t let that doctor come anywhere near my house! she exclaimed. But since he s got the jewel that I loved, and which you swore to keep for my sake, I ll be as generous as you: I won t deny him any of my possessions. No, not even my body, nor my husband s bed. I know now that I m going to be intimate with him. Watch me like Argus because if you don t, if I m left alone, by my honour which is still mine to give I ll have that doctor in my bed. And I ll have his clerk, said Nerissa. Take care not to leave me unchaperoned. Well do it then! said Gratiano. But don t let me catch him because if I do I ll destroy his pen. Antonio sighed. I m the unhappy subject of these quarrels. Portia turned quickly and reassured him. Sir, don t be troubled. You are welcome nevertheless. Portia! Bassanio was desperate. Forgive me for offending you but it was forced on me. Here, with all these friends as witnesses, I swear to you, even by your lovely eyes, in which I see myself Listen to that! she retorted. In both my eyes he sees himself doubled! One in each eye. Swear by your hypocritical self. Now there s a reliable oath! She turned her back on him and looked out towards the sea. No! Just listen! Forgive this fault and I swear by my soul that I ll never break a promise to you! Antonio put his hand on Portia s arm. I staked my body for his happiness. If it hadn t been for the man who has your husband s ring there would have been a disaster. Now I offer to be bound again, with my soul as the forfeit, that your husband will never again knowingly break faith with you. Then you ll be his guarantor, she said. She took the ring off her finger and gave it to Antonio. And tell him to look after it better than the other. Antonio held the ring out to Bassanio. Here, Lord Bassanio. Swear to keep this ring. Bassanio took it. He began putting it on his finger then he stopped. By heaven! he exclaimed. It s the one I gave the doctor! I got it from him, said Portia. She swung round to face him. Forgive me, Bassanio. The doctor slept with me in return for this ring. Nerissa took her glove off and displayed her ring. And forgive me, my gentle Gratiano, she said, because that same scrubbed boy, the doctor s clerk, slept with me for this. What? said Gratiano. This is like mending roads in summer, when they re in good repair. Are we going to be cuckolded before we ve deserved it? Don t be so crude! said Portia. You re all astonished. She opened her bag. Here s a letter; read it at your leisure. It comes from Padua; from Bellario. In it you will discover that Portia was the doctor, Nerissa there, her clerk. Lorenzo here, will tell you that I set out immediately after you and have just returned. I haven t even been inside yet. Antonio, you are welcome, and I have even better news for you than you expect. She took another letter out of her bag. Open this letter soon. You ll find that three of your ships returned to the harbour richly laden. I won t tell you how I got hold of this letter. I m speechless! said Antonio. Were you the doctor and I couldn t tell? said Bassanio. Were you the clerk who wanted to cuckold me? said Gratiano. Yes, but the clerk who doesn t intend to do it, unless he lives to be a man! Bassanio took Portia in his arms. Sweet doctor, you will be my bed partner, he said. And when I m away you can sleep with my wife. Antonio looked up from the letter. Sweet lady, you ve given me life and hope. I read here that my ships have reached the port safely. Well now, Lorenzo, said Portia. My clerk has good news for you too. Yes, and I ll give it to him for nothing, said Nerissa. She gave Lorenzo the will. I hereby give you and Jessica a special deed of gift from the rich Jew all his possessions after his death. Fair ladies, cried Lorenzo. You drop manna in front of starving people! It s almost morning, said Portia. I m sure there s more that you want to know about these events. Let s go in. You can interrogate us there and we ll tell you everything you want to know. Let s do that, said Gratiano. Her took Nerissa s hand and led the way. The first question my Nerissa will be sworn in to answer is whether she would rather wait till tomorrow night or go to bed now with only two more hours until daylight. If it were morning I d be wishing it were dark so that I could take the doctor s clerk to bed. Anyway, for as long as I live I ll respect nothing more than keeping Nerissa s ring safe!

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