putting on the robes of a counselor, she took Nerissa along with her
as her clerk; and setting out immediately, they arrived at Venice on
the very day of the trial. The cause was just going to be heard before
the duke and senators of Venice in the senate house, when Portia
entered this high court of justice, and presented a letter from
Bellario, in which that learned counselor wrote to the duke, saying,
he would have come himself to plead for Antonio, but that he was
prevented by sickness, and he requested that the learned young doctor
Balthasar (so he called Portia) might be permitted to plead in his
stead. This the duke granted, much wondering at the youthful
appearance of the stranger, who was prettily disguised by her
counselor's robes and her large wig.
And now began this important trial. Portia looked around her, and she
saw the merciless Jew; and she saw Bassanio, but he knew her not in
her disguise. He was standing beside Antonio, in an agony of distress
and fear for his friend.
The importance of the arduous task Portia had engaged in gave this
tender lady courage, and she boldly proceeded in the duty she had
undertaken to perform: and first of all she addressed herself to
Shylock; and allowing that he had a right by the Venetian law to have
the forfeit expressed in the bond, she spoke so sweetly of the noble
quality of _mercy_ as would have softened any heart but the unfeeling
Shylock's; saying, that it dropped as the gentle rain from heaven upon
the place beneath; and how mercy was a double blessing, it blessed him
that gave, and him that received it: and how it became monarchs better
than their crowns, being an attribute of God himself; and that earthly
power came nearest to God's in proportion as mercy tempered justice;
and she bid Shylock remember that as we all pray for mercy, that same
prayer should teach us to show mercy. Shylock only answered her by
desiring to have the penalty forfeited in the bond. "Is he not able to
pay the money?" asked Portia. Bassanio then offered the Jew the
payment of the three thousand ducats as many times over as he should
desire; which Shylock refusing, and still insisting upon having a
pound of Antonio's flesh, Bassanio begged the learned young counselor
would endeavor to wrest the law a little, to save Antonio's life. But
Portia gravely answered, that laws once established must never be
altered. Shylock hearing Portia say that the law might not be altered,
it seemed to him that she was pleading in his favor, and he said, "A
Daniel is come to judgment! O wise young judge, how I do honor you!
How much elder are you than your looks?"
Portia now desired Shylock to let her look at the bond: and when she
had read it, she said, "This bond is forfeited, and by this the Jew
may lawfully claim a pound of flesh, to be by him cut off nearest
Antonio's heart." Then said she to Shylock, "Be merciful: take the
money, and bid me tear the bond." But no mercy would the cruel Shylock
show; and he said, "By my soul I swear, there is no power in the
tongue of man to alter me." "Why, then, Antonio," said Portia, "you
must prepare your bosom for the knife;" and while Shylock was
sharpening a long knife with great eagerness to cut off the pound of
flesh, Portia said to Antonio, "Have you anything to say?" Antonio,
with a calm resignation, replied that he had but little to say, for
that he had prepared his mind for death. Then he said to Bassanio,
"Give me your hand, Bassanio! Fare you well! Grieve not that I am
fallen into this misfortune for you. Commend me to your honorable
wife, and tell her how I have loved you!" Bassanio in the deepest
affliction replied, "Antonio, I am married to a wife who is as dear to
me as life itself; but life itself, my wife, and all the world are not
esteemed with me above your life: I would lose all, I would sacrifice
all to this devil here, to deliver you."
Portia, hearing this, though the kind-hearted lady was not at all
offended with her husband for expressing the love he owed to so true a
friend as Antonio in these strong terms, yet could not help answering,
"Your wife would give you little thanks, if she were present, to hear
you make this offer." And then Gratiano, who loved to copy what his
lord did, thought he must make a speech like Bassanio's, and he said,
in Nerissa's hearing, who was writing in her clerk's dress by the side
of Portia, "I have a wife, whom I protest I love; I wish she were in
heaven, if she could but entreat some power there to change the cruel
temper of this currish Jew." "It is well you wish this behind her
back, else you would have but an unquiet house," said Nerissa.
Shylock now cried out impatiently, "We trifle time; I pray pronounce
the sentence." And now all was awful expectation in the court, and
every heart was full of grief for Antonio.
Portia asked if the scales were ready to weigh the flesh; and she said
to the Jew, "Shylock, you must have some surgeon by, lest he bleed to
death." Shylock, whose whole intent was that Antonio should bleed to
death, said, "It is not so named in the bond." Portia replied, "It is
not so named in the bond, but what of that? It were good you did so
much for charity." To this all the answer Shylock would make was, "I
cannot find it; it is not in the bond." "Then," said Portia, "a pound
of Antonio's flesh is thine. The law allows it, and the court awards
it. And you may cut this flesh from off his breast. The law allows it,
and the court awards it." Again Shylock exclaimed, "O wise and upright
judge! A Daniel is come to judgment!" And then he sharpened his long
knife again, and looking eagerly on Antonio, he said, "Come, prepare!"
"Tarry a little, Jew," said Portia; "there is something else. This
bond here gives you no drop of blood; the words expressly are, 'a
pound of flesh,' If in the cutting off the pound of flesh you shed one
drop of Christian blood, your land and goods are by the law to be
confiscated to the state of Venice." Now as it was utterly impossible
for Shylock to cut off the pound of flesh without shedding some of
Antonio's blood, this wise discovery of Portia's, that it was flesh
and not blood that was named in the bond, saved the life of Antonio;
and all admiring the wonderful sagacity of the young counselor, who
had so happily thought of this expedient, plaudits resounded from
every part of the senate-house; and Gratiano exclaimed, in words which
Shylock had used, "O wise and upright judge! mark, Jew, a Daniel is
come to judgment!"
Shylock, finding himself defeated in his cruel intent said, with a
disappointed look, that he would take the money; and Bassanio,
rejoiced beyond measure at Antonio's unexpected deliverance, cried
out, "Here is the money!" But Portia stopped him, saying, "Softly;
there is no haste; the Jew shall have nothing but the penalty:
therefore prepare, Shylock, to cut off the flesh; but mind you shed no
blood; nor do not cut off more nor less than just a pound; be it more
or less by one poor scruple, nay, if the scale turn but by the weight
of a single hair, you are condemned by the laws of Venice to die, and
all your wealth is forfeit to the senate."
"Give me my money, and let me go," said Shylock. "I have it ready,"
said Bassanio; "here it is."
Shylock was going to take the money, when Portia again stopped him,
saying, "Tarry, Jew; I have yet another hold upon you. By the laws of
Venice, your wealth is forfeit to the state, for having conspired
against the life of one of its citizens, and your life lies at the
mercy of the duke; therefore down on your knees, and ask him to pardon
you."
The duke then said to Shylock, "That you may see the difference of our
Christian spirit, I pardon you your life before you ask it; half your
wealth belongs to Antonio, the other half comes to the state."
The generous Antonio then said that he would give up his share of
Shylock's wealth, if Shylock would sign a deed to make it over at his
death to his daughter and her husband; for Antonio knew that the Jew
had an only daughter, who had lately married against his consent to a
young Christian, named Lorenzo, a friend of Antonio's, which had so
offended Shylock that he had disinherited her.
The Jew agreed to this; and being thus disappointed in his revenge and
despoiled of his riches, he said, "I am ill. Let me go home; send the
deed after me, and I will sign over half my riches to my
daughter."--"Get thee gone, then," said the duke, "and sign it; and if
you repent your cruelty and turn Christian, the state will forgive you
the fine of the other half of your riches."
The duke now released Antonio, and dismissed the court. He then highly
praised the wisdom and ingenuity of the young counselor, and invited
him home to dinner. Portia, who meant to return to Belmont before her
husband, replied, "I humbly thank your grace, but I must away
directly." The duke said he was sorry he had not leisure to stay and
dine with him; and turning to Antonio, he added, "Reward this
gentleman; for in my mind you are much indebted to him."
The duke and his senators left the court; and then Bassanio said to
Portia, "Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend Antonio have by your
wisdom been this day acquitted of grievous penalties, and I beg you
will accept of the three thousand ducats due unto the Jew." "And we
shall stand indebted to you over and above," said Antonio, "in love
and service evermore."
Portia could not be prevailed upon to accept the money; but upon
Bassanio still pressing her to accept some reward, she said, "Give me
your gloves; I will wear them for your sake;" and then, Bassanio
taking off his gloves, she espied the ring which she had given him
upon his finger: now it was the ring the wily lady wanted to get from
him to make a merry jest when she saw her Bassanio again, that made
her ask him for his gloves; and she said, when she saw the ring, "And
for your love I will take this ring from you." Bassanio was sadly
distressed, that the counselor should ask him for the only thing he
could not part with, and he replied in great confusion that he could
not give him that ring, because it was his wife's gift, and he had
vowed never to part with it; but that he would give him the most
valuable ring in Venice, and find it out by proclamation. On this
Portia affected to be affronted, and left the court, saying, "You
teach me, sir, how a beggar should be answered."
"Dear Bassanio," said Antonio, "let him have the ring; let my love and
the great service he has done for me be valued against your wife's
displeasure." Bassanio, ashamed to appear too ungrateful, yielded, and
sent Gratiano after Portia with the ring; and then the _clerk_
Nerissa, who had also given Gratiano a ring, she begged his ring, and
Gratiano (not choosing to be out-done in generosity by his lord) gave
it to her. And there was laughing among these ladies, to think when
they got home how they would tax their husbands with giving away their
rings, and swear that they had given them as a present to some woman.
Portia, when she returned, was in that happy temper of mind which
never fails to attend the consciousness of having performed a good
action; her cheerful spirits enjoyed everything she saw: the moon
never seemed to shine so bright before; and when that pleasant moon
was hid behind a cloud, then a light which she saw from her house at
Belmont as well pleased her charmed fancy, and she said to Nerissa,
"That light we see is burning in my hall; how far that little candle
throws its beams, so shines a good deed in a naughty world;" and
hearing the sound of music from her house, she said, "Methinks that
music sounds much sweeter than by day."
And now Portia and Nerissa entered the house, and dressing themselves
in their own apparel, they awaited the arrival of their husbands, who
soon followed them with Antonio; and Bassanio presenting his dear
friend to the lady Portia, the congratulations and welcomings of that
lady were hardly over, when they perceived Nerissa and her husband
quarreling in a corner of the room. "A quarrel already?" said Portia.
"What is the matter?" Gratiano replied, "Lady, it is about a paltry
gilt ring that Nerissa gave me, with words upon it like the poetry on
a cutler's knife, _Love me, and leave me not_."
"What does the poetry or the value of the ring signify?" said Nerissa.
"You swore to me when I gave it to you, that you would keep it till
the hour of death; and now you say you gave it to the lawyer's clerk.
I know you gave it to a woman."--"By this hand," replied Gratiano, "I
gave it to a youth, a kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy, no higher
than yourself; he was clerk to the young counselor that by his wise
pleading saved Antonio's life: this prating boy begged it for a fee,
and I could not for my life deny him." Portia said, "You were to
blame, Gratiano, to part with your wife's first gift. I gave my lord
Bassanio a ring, and I am sure he would not part with it for all the
world." Gratiano, in excuse for his fault, now said, "My lord Bassanio
gave his ring away to the counselor, and then the boy, his clerk, that
took some pains in writing, he begged my ring."
Portia, hearing this, seemed very angry, and reproached Bassanio for
giving away her ring; and she said Nerissa had taught her what to
believe, and that she knew some woman had the ring. Bassanio was very
unhappy to have so offended his dear lady, and he said with great
earnestness, "No, by my honor, no woman had it, but a civil doctor,
who refused three thousand ducats of me, and begged the ring, which,
when I denied him, he went displeased away. What could I do, sweet
Portia? I was so beset with shame for my seeming ingratitude, that I
was forced to send the ring after him. Pardon me, good lady; had you
been there, I think you would have begged the ring of me to give the
worthy doctor."
"Ah!" said Antonio, "I am the unhappy cause of these quarrels!"
Portia bid Antonio not to grieve at that, for that he was welcome
notwithstanding; and then Antonio said, "I once did lend my body for
Bassanio's sake; and but for him to whom your husband gave the ring, I
should have now been dead. I dare be bound again, my soul upon the
forfeit, your lord will nevermore break his faith with you."--"Then
you shall be his surety," said Portia; "give him this ring, and bid
him keep it better than the other."
When Bassanio looked at this ring, he was strangely surprised to find
it the same he gave away; and then Portia told him how she was the
young counselor, and Nerissa was her clerk; and Bassanio found, to his
unspeakable wonder and delight, that it was by the noble courage and
wisdom of his wife that Antonio's life was saved.
And Portia again welcomed Antonio, and gave him letters which by some
chance had fallen into her hands, which contained an account of
Antonio's ships, that were supposed lost, being safely arrived in the
harbor. So these tragical beginnings of this rich merchant's story
were all forgotten in the unexpected good fortune which ensued; and
there was leisure to laugh at the comical adventure of the rings, and
the husbands that did not know their own wives: Gratiano merrily
swearing, in a sort of rhyming speech, that--
"while he lived, he'd fear no other thing
So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring."
THE TEMPEST
_By Charles and Mary Lamb_
There was a certain island in the sea, the only inhabitants of which
were an old man, whose name was Prospero, and his daughter Miranda, a
very beautiful young lady. She came to this island so young that she
had no memory of having seen any other human face than her father's.
They lived in a cave or cell, made out of a rock; it was divided into
several apartments, one of which Prospero called his study; there he
kept his books, which chiefly treated of magic, a study at that time
much affected by all learned men: and the knowledge of this art he
found very useful to him; for, being thrown by a strange chance upon
this island, which had been enchanted by a witch called Sycorax, who
died there a short time before his arrival, Prospero, by virtue of his
art, released many good spirits that Sycorax had imprisoned in the
bodies of large trees, because they had refused to execute her wicked
commands. These gentle spirits were ever after obedient to the will of
Prospero. Of these Ariel was the chief.
The lively little sprite Ariel had nothing mischievous in his nature,
except that he took rather too much pleasure in tormenting an ugly
monster called Caliban, for he owed him a grudge because he was the
son of his old enemy Scyorax. This Caliban Prospero found in the
woods, a strange, misshapen thing, far less human in form than an ape:
he took him home to his cell, and taught him to speak; and Prospero
would have been very kind to him, but the bad nature which Caliban
inherited from his mother Scyorax would not let him learn anything
good or useful: therefore he was employed like a slave, to fetch wood,
and do the most laborious offices; and Ariel had the charge of
compelling him to these services.
When Caliban was lazy and neglected his work, Ariel (who was invisible
to all eyes but Prospero's) would come slyly and pinch him, and
sometimes tumble him down in the mire; and then Ariel, in the likeness
of an ape, would make mouths at him. Then swiftly changing his shape,
in the likeness of a hedgehog he would lie tumbling in Caliban's way,
who feared the hedgehog's sharp quills would prick his bare feet. With
a variety of such like vexatious tricks Ariel would often torment him,
whenever Caliban neglected the work which Prospero commanded him to
do.
Having these powerful spirits obedient to his will, Prospero could by
their means command the winds, and the waves of the sea. By his orders
they raised a violent storm, in the midst of which, and struggling
with the wild sea waves that every moment threatened to swallow it up,
he showed his daughter a fine large ship, which he told her was full
of living beings like themselves. "O my dear father," said she, "if by
your art you have raised this dreadful storm, have pity on their sad
distress. See! the vessel will be dashed to pieces. Poor souls! they
will all perish. If I had power, I would sink the sea beneath the
earth, rather than the good ship should be destroyed, with all the
precious souls within her."
[Illustration: THE VESSEL WILL BE DASHED TO PIECES]
"Be not so amazed, daughter Miranda," said Prospero; "there is no harm
done. I have so ordered it, that no person in the ship shall receive
any hurt. What I have done has been in care of you, my dear child. You
are ignorant who you are, or where you came from, and you know no more
of me but that I am your father and live in this poor cave. Can you
remember a time before you came to this cell? I think you cannot, for
you were not then three years of age."
"Certainly I can, sir," replied Miranda.
"By what?" asked Prospero; "by any other house or person? Tell me what
you can remember, my child."
Miranda said, "It seems to me like the recollection of a dream. But
had I not once four or five women who attended upon me?"
Prospero answered, "You had, and more. How is it that this still lives
in your mind? Do you remember how you came here?"
"No, sir," said Miranda, "I remember nothing more."
"Twelve years ago, Miranda," continued Prospero, "I was duke of Milan,
and you were a princess, and my only heir. I had a younger brother,
whose name was Antonio, to whom I trusted everything; and as I was
fond of retirement and deep study, I commonly left the management of
my state affairs to your uncle, my false brother (for so indeed he
proved). I, neglecting all worldly ends, buried among my books, did
dedicate my whole time to the bettering of my mind. My brother Antonio
being thus in possession of my power, began to think himself the duke
indeed. The opportunity I gave him of making himself popular among my
subjects awakened in his bad nature a proud ambition to deprive me of
my dukedom: this he soon effected with the aid of the king of Naples,
a powerful prince, who was my enemy."
"Wherefore," said Miranda, "did they not that hour destroy us?"
"My child," answered her father, "they durst not, so dear was the love
that my people bore me. Antonio carried us on board a ship, and when
we were some leagues out at sea, he forced us into a small boat
without either tackle, sail, or mast; there he left us, as he thought,
to perish. But a kind lord of my court, one Gonzalo, who loved me, had
privately placed in the boat water, provisions, apparel, and some
books which I prize above my dukedom."
"O my father," said Miranda, "what a trouble must I have been to you
then!"
"No, my love," said Prospero, "you were a little cherub that did
preserve me. Your innocent smiles made me to bear up against my
misfortunes. Our food lasted till we landed on this desert island,
since when my chief delight has been in teaching you, Miranda, and
well have you profited by my instructions."
"Heaven thank you, my dear father," said Miranda. "Now pray tell me,
sir, your reason for raising this sea storm?"
"Know, then," said her father, "that by means of this storm my
enemies, the king of Naples and my cruel brother, are cast ashore upon
this island."
Having so said, Prospero gently touched his daughter with his magic
wand, and she fell fast asleep; for the spirit Ariel just then
presented himself before his master, to give an account of the
tempest, and how he had disposed of the ship's company; and, though
the spirits were always invisible to Miranda, Prospero did not choose
she should hear him holding converse (as would seem to her) with the
empty air.
"Well, my brave spirit," said Prospero to Ariel, "how have you
performed your task?"
Ariel gave a lively description of the storm, and the terrors of the
mariners; and how the king's son, Ferdinand, was the first who leaped
into the sea; and his father thought he saw his dear son swallowed up
by the waves and lost. "But he is safe," said Ariel, "in a corner of
the isle, sitting with his arms folded, sadly lamenting the loss of
the king his father, whom he concludes drowned. Not a hair of his head
is injured, and his princely garments, though drenched in the sea
waves, look fresher than before."
"That's my delicate Ariel," said Prospero. "Bring him hither; my
daughter must see this young prince. Where is the king, and my
brother?"
"I left them," answered Ariel, "searching for Ferdinand, whom they
have little hopes of finding, thinking they saw him perish. Of the
ship's crew not one is missing; though each one thinks himself the
only one saved; and the ship, though invisible to them, is safe in the
harbor."
"Ariel," said Prospero, "thy charge is faithfully performed; but there
is more work yet."
"Is there more work?" said Ariel. "Let me remind you, master, you have
promised me my liberty. I pray, remember, I have done you worthy
service, told you no lies, made no mistakes, served you without grudge
or grumbling."
"How now!" said Prospero. "You do not recollect what a torment I freed
you from. Have you forgot the wicked witch Sycorax, who with age and
envy was almost bent double? Where was she born? Speak; tell me."
"Sir, in Algiers," said Ariel.
"Oh, was she so?" said Prospero. "I must recount what you have been,
which I find you do not remember. This bad witch, Sycorax, for her
witchcrafts, too terrible to enter human hearing, was banished from
Algiers, and here left by the sailors; and because you were a spirit
too delicate to execute her wicked commands, she shut you up in a
tree, where I found you howling. This torment, remember, I did free
you from."
"Pardon me, dear master," said Ariel, ashamed to seem ungrateful; "I
will obey your commands."
"Do so," said Prospero, "and I will set you free." He then gave orders
what further he would have him do; and away went Ariel, first to where
he had left Ferdinand, and found him still sitting on the grass in the
same melancholy posture.
"O my young gentleman," said Ariel, when he saw him, "I will soon move
you. You must be brought, I find, for the lady Miranda to have a sight
of your pretty person. Come, sir, follow me." He then began singing,
"Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Hark, now I hear them--Ding-dong-bell."
This strange news of his lost father soon roused the prince from the
stupid fit into which he had fallen. He followed in amazement the
sound of Ariel's voice till it led him to Prospero and Miranda, who
were sitting under the shade of a large tree. Now, Miranda had never
seen a man before, except her own father.
"Miranda," said Prospero, "tell me what you are looking at yonder."