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While he did bear my countenance in the town;
And happily I have arriv'd at last

Unto the wished haven of my bliss:

What Tranio did, myself enforc'd him to;
Then pardon him, sweet father, for my sake.

Vin. I'll slit the villain's nose, that would have sent me to the gaol.

Bap. But do you hear, sir? [To LUCENTIO.] Have you married my daughter without asking my good-will? Vin. Fear not, Baptista; we will content you: go to: But I will in, to be reveng'd for this villainy. [Exit. Bap. And I, to sound the depth of this knavery. [Exit. Luc. Look not pale, Bianca; thy father will not [Exeunt Luc. and BIAN. Gre. My cake is dough:a But I'll in among the rest; Out of hope of all,-but my share of the feast. [Exit. PETRUCIO and KATHARINA advance.

frown.

Kath. Husband, let 's follow, to see the end of this ado.
Pet. First kiss me, Kate, and we will.
Kath. What, in the midst of the street?
Pet. What, art thou ashamed of me?
Kath. No, sir; God forbid :-but ashamed to kiss.
Pet. Why, then, let 's home again :-Come, sirrah,
let 's away.

Kath. Nay, I will give thee a kiss: now pray thee,

love, stay.

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SCENE II-A Room in Lucentio's House. A banquet set out. Enter BAPTISTA, VINCENTIO, GREMIO, the Pedant, LUCENTIO, BIANCA, PETRUCIO, KATHARINA, HORTENSIO, and Widow. TRANIO, BIONDELLO, GRUMIO, and others, attending. Luc. At last, though long, our jarring notes agree; And time it is, when raging war is done, To smile at 'scapes and perils overblown. My fair Bianca, bid my father welcome, While I with self-same kindness welcome thine: Brother Petrucio,-sister Katharina,— And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving widow,— Feast with the best, and welcome to my house. My banquet is to close our stomachs up, After our great good cheer: Pray you, sit down; For now we sit to chat, as well as eat. [They sit at table. Pet. Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat. Bap. Padua affords this kindness, son Petrucio.

My cake is dough. This proverbial expression is used in Howell's Letters, to express the disappointment of the heirIesumptive of France when Louis XIV. was born: "So that new Monsieur's cake is dough."

Pet. Padua affords nothing but what is kind.
Hor. For both our sakes, I would that word were true
Pet. Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his widow.
Wid. Then never trust me if I be afeard.a

Pet. You are very sensible, and yet you miss my

sense;

I mean, Hortensio is afeard of you.

Wid. He that is giddy thinks the world turns round. Pet. Roundly replied.

Kath.

Mistress, how mean you that? Wid. Thus I conceive by him.

Pet. Conceives by me!--How likes Hortensio that? Hor. My widow says, thus she conceives her tale. Pet. Very well mended: Kiss him for that, good widow. Kath. He that is giddy thinks the world turns round :

I pray you, tell me what you meant by that.

Wid. Your husband, being troubled with a shrew,
Measures my husband's sorrow by his woe :
And now you know my meaning.

Kath. A very mean meaning.
Wid.

Right, I mean you.

Kath. And I am mean, indeed, respecting you.

Pet. To her, Kate!

Hor. To her, widow!

Pet. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down. Hor. That's my office.

Pet. Spoke like an officer :-Ha' to thee, lad.

[Drinks to HORtensio. Bap. How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks? Gre. Believe me, sir, they butt together well. Bian. Head, and butt? an hasty-witted body Would say your head and butt were head and horn. Vin. Ay, mistress bride, hath that awaken'd you? Bian. Ay, but not frighted me; therefore I'll sleep again.

Pet. Nay, that you shall not; since you have begun, Have at you for a bitter jest or two.

Bian. Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush,
And then pursue me as you draw your bow:-
You are welcome all. [Ex. BIAN., KATH., and Widow.
Pet. She hath prevented me.-Here, signior Tranio,
This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not;
Therefore, a health to all that shot and miss'd.
Tra. Ó, sir, Lucentio slipp'd me like his grey-
hound,

Which runs himself, and catches for his master.
Pet. A good swift simile, but something currish.
Tra. T is well, sir, that you hunted for yourself;
"T is thought, your deer does hold you at a bay.
Bap. O ho, Petrucio, Tranio hits you now.
Luc. I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio.
Hor. Confess, confess, hath he not hit you here?
Pet. A' has a little gall'd me, I confess;
And, as the jest did glance away from me,
T is ten to one it maim'd you two outright.
Bap. Now, in good sadness, son Petrucio,

I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all.
Pet. Well, I say-no: and, therefore, for assurance,
Let 's each one send unto his wife;

And he, whose wife is most obe-lient

To come at first, when he doth send for her,
Shall win the wager which we will propose.
Hor. Content: What's the wager?
Luc.

Pet. Twenty crowns!

Twenty crowns.

I'll venture so much on my hawk, or hound, But twenty times so much upon my wife. Luc. A hundred then.

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Luc. That will I.

Go, Biondello, bid your mistress come to me.
Bion. I go.

[Exit.

Bap. Son, I will be your half, Bianca comes.
Luc. I'll have no halves; I 'll bear it all myself.
Re-enter BIONDELLO.

How now! what news?

Bion.

Sir, my mistress sends you word
That she is busy, and she cannot come.
Pet. How! she 's busy, and she cannot come!
Is that an answer?

Gre.

Ay, and a kind one too:

Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse.
Pet. I hope, better.

Hor. Sirrah Biondello, go, and entreat my wife
To come to me forthwith.

Pet.

[Exit BIONDELLO.

O, ho! entreat her! Nay, then she must needs come.

Hor.

I am afraid, sir, Do what you can, yours will not be entreated.

Re-enter BIONDELLO.

Now, where 's my wife?

Bion. She says, you have some goodly jest in hand; She will not come; she bids you come to her.

Pet. Katharine, I charge thee, tell these headstrong

women

What duty they do owe their lords and husbands.
Wid. Come, come, you're mocking; we will have
no telling.

Pet. Come on, I say; and first begin with her
Wid. She shall not.

Pet. I say, she shall;--and first begin with her.
Kath. Fie, fie! unknit that threat'ning unkind brow;
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes,
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor :

It blots thy beauty, as frosts do bite the meads;
Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair buds,
And in no sense is meet or amiable.

A woman mov'd is like a fountain troubled,
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty;
And, while it is so, none so dry or thirsty
Will deign to sip, or touch one drop of it.
Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance: commits his body
To painful labour, both by sea and land;
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
While thou liest warm at home, secure and safe;
And craves no other tribute at thy hands,
But love, fair looks, and true obedience,—
Too little payment for so great a debt.
Such duty as the subject owes the prince,
Even such a woman oweth to her husband:
[Exit GRUMIO. And when she's froward, peevish, sullen, sour,
And not obedient to his honest will,
What is she, but a foul contending rebel,
And graceless traitor to her loving lord?
I am asham'd, that women are so simple
To offer war, where they should kneel for peace;
Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway,
When they are bound to serve, love, and obey.
Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth,
Unapt to toil, and trouble in the world,

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Bap. Now, by my holidame, here comes Katharina!
Kath. What is your will, sir, that you send for me?
Pet. Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife?
Kath. They sit conferring by the parlour fire.

Pet. Go, fetch them hither; if they deny to come,
Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands:
Away, I say, and bring them hither straight. [Exit KATH.
Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder.
Hor. And so it is; I wonder what it bodes.
Pet. Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life,
An awful rule, and right supremacy;
And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and happy.

Bap. Now fair befall thee, good Petrucio
The wager thou hast won; and I will add
Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns!
Another dowry to another daughter,
For she is chang'd, as she had never been.
Pet. Nay, I will win my wager better yet;
And show more sign of her obedience,
Her new-built virtue and obedience.

Re-enter KATHARINA, with BIANCA and Widow.
See, where she comes; and brings your froward wives
As prisoners to her womanly persuasion.
Katharine, that cap of yours becomes you not;
Off with that bauble, throw it under foot.

[KATH. pulls off her cap, and throws it down.
Wid. Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh,
Till I be brought to such a silly pass!

Bian. Fie! what a foolish duty call you this?
Luc. I would your duty were as foolish too:
The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca,
Hath cost me an hundred crowns since supper-time.
Bian. The more fool you, for laying on my duty.

But that our soft conditions, and our hearts,
Should well agree with our external parts?
Come, come, you froward and unable worms!
My mind hath been as big as one of yours,
My heart as great; my reason, haply, more,
To bandy word for word, and frown for frown;
But now, I see our lances are but straws;
Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,-
That seeming to be most, which we indeed least are.
Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot;
And place your hands below your husbands' foot
In token of which duty, if he please,

My hand is ready, may it do him ease!

Pet. Why, there's a wench!-Come on, and kiss me,
Kate.

Luc. Well, go thy ways, old lad; for thou shalt ba 't.
Vin. "T is a good hearing, when children are toward.
Luc. But a harsh hearing, when women are froward.
Pet. Come, Kate, we 'll to bed.

We three are married, but you two are sped.
'T was I won the wager, though you hit the white; a
[To LUCENTIO.

And, being a winner, God give you good night!

[Exeunt PET. and KATH. Hor. Now go thy ways, thou hast tam'd a curst shrew.b

Luc. "T is a wonder, by your leave, she will be
tam'd so.
[Exeunt.

a Hit the white-a term in archery.

b Shrew. It would appear from this couplet, and another ir. this scene, where shrew rhymes to woe, that shrow was the old pronunciation.

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THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, like A MidsummerNight's Dream,' was first printed in 1600; and it had a further similarity to that play from the circumstance of two editions appearing in the same year-the one bearing the name of a publisher, Thomas Heyes, the other that of a printer, J. Roberts. The play was not reprinted till it appeared in the folio of 1623. In that edition there are a few variations from the quartos. All these editions present the internal evidence of having been printed from correct copies. The Merchant of Venice' is one of the plays of Shakspere mentioned by Francis Meres in 1598, and it is the last mentioned in his list.

Stephen Gosson, who, in 1579, was moved to publish a tract called 'The School of Abuse, containing a pleasant invective against poets, pipers, players, jesters, and such like caterpillars of the commonwealth,' thus describes a play of his time:-"The Jew, shown at the Bull, representing the greedyness of worldly choosers, and the bloody minds of usurers." Whatever might have been the plot of 'The Jew' mentioned by Gosson, the story of the bond was ready to Shakspere's hand, in a ballad to which Warton first drew attention. He considers that the ballad was written before The Merchant of Venice.' But this ballad of Gernutus wants that remarkable feature of the play, the intervention of Portia to save the life of the Merchant; and this, to our minds, is the strongest confirmation that the ballad preceded the comedy. Shakspere found that incident in the source from which the ballad-writer professed to derive his history:

:

"In Venice towne not long agoe,

A cruel Jew did dwell,

Which lived all on usurie,

As Italian writers tell."

It was from an Italian writer, Ser Giovanni, the author of a collection of tales called Il Pecorone,' written in the fourteenth century, and first published at Milan in 1558, that Shakspere unquestionably derived some of the incidents of his story, although he might be familiar with another version of the same tale.

"It is well known," says Mrs. Jameson, "that "The Merchant of Venice' is founded on two different tales; and in weaving together his double plot in so masterly a manner, Shakspere has rejected altogether the character of the astutious lady of Belmont, with her magic potions, who figures in the Italian novel. With yet more refinement, he has thrown out all the licentious part of the story, which some of his contemporary dramatists would have seized on with avidity, and made the best or the worst of it possible; and he has substituted the trial of the caskets from another source. That source is the Gesta Romanorum.'

In dealing with the truly dramatic subject of the forfeiture of the bond, Shakspere had to choose between one of two courses that lay open before him. The 'Gesta Romanorum' did not surround the debtor and the creditor with any prejudices. We hear nothing of one being a Jew, the other a Christian. There is a remarkable story told by Gregorio Leti, in his Life of Pope Sixtus the Fifth,' in which the debtor and creditor of The Merchant of Venice' change places. The Characteristics of Women, vol. i. p. 72.

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debtor is the Jew,-the revengeful creditor the Chris tian; and this incident is said to have happened a Rome in the time of Sir Francis Drake. This, no doubt, was a pure fiction of Leti, whose narratives are by no means to be received as authorities; but it shows that he felt the intolerance of the old story, and endeavoured to correct it, though in a very inartificial manner. Shakspere took the story as he found it in those narratives which represented the popular prejudice. If he had not before him the ballad of Gernutus,' (upon which point it is difficult to decide,) he had certainly access to the tale of the Pecorone.' If he had made the contest connected with the story of the bond between two of the same faith, he would have lost the most powerful hold which the subject possessed upon the feelings of an audience two centuries and a half ago. If he had gone directly counter to those feelings, (supposing that the story which Leti tells had been known to him, as some have supposed,) his comedy would have been hooted from the stage.

"The Prioress's Tale' of Chaucer belonged to the period when the Jews were robbed, maimed, banished, and most foully vilified, with the universal consent of the powerful and the lowly, the learned and the igno

rant:

"There was in Asie, in a gret citee,
Amonges Cristen folk a Jewene.
Sustened by a lord of that contree,
For foul usure, and lucre of vilanie,
Hateful to Crist, and to his compagnie."

It was scarcely to be avoided in those times that even Chaucer, the most genuine and natural of poets, should lend his great powers to the support of the popular belief that Jews ought to be proscribed as—

"Hateful to Crist, and to his compagnie." But we ought to expect better things when we reach the times in which the principles of religious liberty were at least germinated. And yet what a play is Marlowe's 'Jew of Malta,'-undoubtedly one of the most popular plays even of Shakspere's day, judging as we may from the number of performances recorded in Henslowe's papers! That drama, as compared with The Merchant of Venice,' has been described by Charles Lamb, with his usual felicity ::-"Marlowe's Jew does not approach so near to Shakspere's as his Edward II. Shylock, in the midst of his savage purpose, is a man. His motives, feelings, resentments, bave something human in them. If you wrong us, shall we not revenge?' Barabas is a mere monster, brought in with a large painted nose, to please the rabble. He kills in sport-poisons whole nummeries-invents infernal machines. He is just such an exhibition as, a century or two earlier, might have been played before the Londoners, by the Royal command, when a general pillage and massacre of the Hebrews had been previously resolved on in the cabinet." The Jew of Malta' was written essentially upon an intolerant principle. The Merchant of Venice,' whilst it seized upon the prejudices of the multitude, and dealt with them as a foregone conclusion by which the whole dramatic action was to be governed, had the intention of making those prejudices as hateful as the reaction of cruelty and revenge of which they are the cause.

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

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SOLANIO, friend to Antonio and Bassanio.
Ippears, Act I. sc. 1. Act II. sc. 4; sc. 8. Act III. sc. 1; sc. 2.
Act IV. sc. 1.

SALARINO, friend to Antonio and Bassanio.
Appears, Act I. sc. 1. Act II. sc. 4; sc. 6; sc. v.
Act III. sc. 1; sc. 3. Act IV. sc. 1.

GRATIANO, friend to Antonio and Bassanio.
Appears, Act I. sc. 1. Act II. sc. 2; sc. 4; sc. 6. Act III. sc. 2.
Act IV. sc. 1; sc. 2. Act V. sc. 1.
LORENZO, in love with Jessica.
Appears, Act I. sc. 1.

Act II. st. 4; se. 6. Act III. sc. 2; sc. 4; sc. 5. Act V. sc. 1. SHYLOCK, a Jew.

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TUBAL, a Jew, friend to Shylock.
Appears, Act III. sc. 1.

LAUNCELOT GOввO, a clown, servant to Shylock.
Appears, Act II. sc. 2; sc. 3; sc. 4; sc. 5. Act III. sc. 5.
Act V. sc. 1.

Old GOBBO, father to Launcelot
Appears, Act II. sc. 2.

LEONARDO, servant to Bassanio.
Appears, Act II. sc. 2.

BA THAZAR, servant to Portia.
Appears, Act III. sc. 4.
STEPHANO, Servant to Portia.
Appears, Act V. sc. 1.

PORTIA, a rich heiress.

Appears, Act I. sc. 2. Act II. sc. 1; sc. 7; sc. 9.

Act Ii. sc. 2; sc. 4. Act IV. sc. i; sc. 2. Act V. se. 1.

NERISSA, waiting-maid to Portia.

Appears, Act 1. sc. 2. Act II. se. 1; sc. 7; sc. 9. Act III. sc. 2; sc. 4. Act IV. sc. 1; sc. 2. Act V. sc. 1.

JESSICA, daughter to Shylock.

Appears, Act II. sc. 3; sc. 5; sc. 6. Act III. sc. 2; sc. 4; sc. 5 Act V. sc. 1.

Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice Gaoler, Servants, and other Attendants.

SCENE, PARTLY AT VENICE; and partly at BELMONT, THE SEAT OF PORTIA, ON THE CONTINENT.

SCENE 1.-Venice. A Street.
Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SOLANIO.
Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad;
It wearies me; you say it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff 't is made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn;

And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.

Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean;
There, where your argosies with portly sail,
Like siguiors and rich burghers on the flood,
Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea,
Do overpeer the petty traffickers,

ACT I.

That curt'sy to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.
Solan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth,
The better part of my affections would
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind;
Peering in maps, for ports, and piers, and roads;
And every object that might make me fear
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt,
Would make me sad.

Salar.
My wind, cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an ague when I thought

What narm a wind too great might do at sea.
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
But I should think of shallows and of flats;
And see my wealthy Andrew a dock'd in sand,
Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs,

To kiss her burial. Should I go to church,
And see the holy edifice of stone,

And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks,
Which, touching but my gentle vessel's side,
Would scatter all her spices on the stream;
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks;
And, in a word, but even now worth this,

And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought
To think on this; and shall I lack the thought
That such a thing, bechanc'd, would make me sad?
But tell not me; I know Antonio

Is sad to think upon his merchandize.

Ant. Believe me, no; I thank my fortune for it, My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,

a Wealthy Andrew. Johnson explains this (which is scarcely necessary) as "the name of the ship;" but he does not point out the propriety of the name for a ship, in association with the great naval commander, Andréa Doria, famous through all Italy.

Vailing her high-top. To vail is to let down: the nigh-top was shattered-fallen-when the Andrew was on the shallows. My ventures, &c. This was no doubt proverbial-something more elegant than all the eggs in one basket."

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