_A room in the palace at Naples._
[_Enter_ FERDINAND _and_ MIRANDA.
MIRANDA. O Ferdinand, my love, last night I slept
And sleeping dream’d, and in my dream I saw
The isle where first you knew me, where we told
Each to the other our fond loves. Methought
I was by you companion’d and the hours
Did move to music while there pass’d before
Our wond’ring eyes, as for our sole delight,
A many folk, strange sorted, who did talk
Together, and at whiles as ’twere a play
And we beholding it. ’Twas wondrous strange.
FERDINAND. O, my Miranda, sure some power we wot
Not of doth play with us as we at chess
Do move the pieces this way first and that,
Because our will is to’t. Know then that I
Did dream the fellow unto yours (if it
In very truth were that and nothing more).
Like you, I vis’ted that sweet spot, with you
Beside the while, and did behold, as on
A stage a company of players strut
Their hour or two, a band of merry folk
With some that wept and cried out upon fate.
Who knoweth, my Miranda, what doth hap
To us when we do sleep? At whiles we note
In slumber tokens of a life apart
From this, alike, yet not alike, and who
May say how far the spirit wanders when
The body sleeps?
MIRANDA. Would all my dreams were like
To this we’ve wak’d from, for ’twas sweet, yet sad,
And not so sad but that ’twas sweet the more.
I would it were to dream again.
FERDINAND. Who knows,
Sweet Saint Miranda, but it will return?
_Soft music again heard._
[_Exeunt_ FERDINAND _and_ MIRANDA.
II
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE:
ACT SIXTH
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE:
ACT SIXTH
SCENE I.
_Venice. A street._
_Enter_ SHYLOCK, _followed by a rabble of shouting citizens_.
FIRST CITIZEN. Shylock, how speeds thy business at the court?
Where is the pound of flesh thou covetest?
SECOND CITIZEN. How likest thou the judge from Padua?
THIRD CITIZEN. Eh, Jew, an upright judge! thou hast my lord
The duke to thank for thy poor life. Had I
But been thy judge a halter had been thine,
And thou had’st swung in’t, yet, beshrew my life,
’Twere pity that good Christian hemp were stretch’d
To hang a misbegotten knave like thee.
FOURTH CITIZEN. Shylock, thou infidel, thou should’st have had
The lash on thine old back ten score of times
Ere they had suffer’d thee from out the court.
FIFTH CITIZEN. A beating shall he have, e’en now, the knave.
[_Beats_ SHYLOCK.
SHYLOCK [_striking about him angrily_] Aye! kill me, dogs of
Christians, an’ ye will!
Meseems the Jew hath no more leave to tread
The stones on Christian streets; he may not breathe
The air a Christian breathes, nor gaze uncheck’d
Upon the Christian’s sky; he hath no part
Or lot in anything that is, unless
A Christian please to nod the head. I hate
Ye, brood of Satan that ye are! May all
The plagues of Egypt fall upon ye, dogs
Of Christians; all the pains--
FOURTH CITIZEN. Nay, gentle Jew,
’Tis said thou must become a Christian, straight;
Old Shylock, turn perforce, a “Christian dog!”
Now, greybeard infidel, how lik’st thou this?
SHYLOCK. Eternal torments blister him that asks.
[_Exit_ SHYLOCK, _raving_.
SECOND CITIZEN. A sweet-fac’d Christian will our Shylock make.
I would that I might be his cònfessor,
To lay such swingeing penance on the knave
As scarce would leave him space to sup his broth
Amid the pauses of his punishment.
[_Exeunt citizens, with shouts._
SCENE II.
_Venice. A Room, in_ SHYLOCK’S _House_.
[_Enter_ SHYLOCK _and_ TUBAL.
TUBAL. How now, Shylock! What bitter woe looks from thy face?
What has chanced to thee in the Christian’s court to make thee thus
distraught?
SHYLOCK. O Tubal, Tubal, there dwells no more pity in the
Christian breast than there abides justice therein. I stood for
justice and mine own, before them all; before that smiling,
smooth-faced judge from Padua, and with those false smiles of his he
turned against me the sharp edge of the law. He forbade the shedding
of one drop of the merchant Antonio’s blood--naming therefor some
ancient law, musty for centuries, and that still had gathered dust
till it would serve to bait the Jew with--and so I lost my revenge
upon Antonio. More than that, good Tubal, I lost everything I had to
lose.
TUBAL. Lost everything! Now, by our ancient prophets, this is
woe indeed.
SHYLOCK. Aye, good Tubal. The half my goods are now adjudged
Antonio’s; the other half, upon my death, goes to the knave, Lorenzo;
that same he that lately stole my ducats and my daughter.
TUBAL. And merry havoc will he and thy daughter Jessica make of
thy treasure, Shylock.
SHYLOCK. But there is greater woe to come, good Tubal. To
save this poor remainder of a life have I this day sworn to turn a
Christian.
TUBAL. Thou, turn Christian! O monstrous deed! Our synagogue
will be put to everlasting shame for this. Nay, good Shylock, it must
not be. It must not be.
SHYLOCK. Have I not said that I am sworn on pain of life? They
would e’en have had my life almost in the open court had I not so
sworn. But hear me, Tubal; I will not die till that I have bethought
me of some secret, sure revenge upon Antonio, or failing this, upon
the taunting, sneering fool they call Gratiano, whom I do loathe
e’en as I loathe Antonio. Moreover I would gladly do some deadly hurt
unto the accursed Paduan judge, an’ it might be so.
TUBAL. Then wilt thou still be Hebrew at the heart, good Shylock?
SHYLOCK. How else while yet I bear remembrance of my wrongs?
Have not many of our chosen people done this selfsame thing for
ducats or for life? Kissed the cross before men’s eyes, but spurned
it behind their backs? As I shall do, erewhile. But, O good Tubal,
the apples of Sodom were as sweet morsels in the mouth unto this that
I must do.
TUBAL. Hebrew at heart, albeit Christian of countenance.
Ay, Shylock, it is well. It is well.
[_Exeunt._
SCENE III.
_Venice. Interior of Saint Mark’s._
_Organ music heard. Enter a company of noble Venetians with
the_ DUKE _and his train, accompanied by_ BASSANIO, PORTIA,
ANTONIO, GRATIANO, NERISSA _and others. Following these,
at a little distance, appear_ LORENZO _and_ JESSICA, _the
latter gorgeously attired. The company pauses before the
font._ SHYLOCK _enters from the left, led forward by a
priest. His gaberdine has been exchanged for the Christian
habit, and in his hand is placed a crucifix._
DUKE. Old Shylock, art thou well content to do
As thus we have ordain’d, which is, that thou
Renounce thine ancient Jewish faith, repent
Thy sins, and take the holy, solemn vows
A Christian takes when on his brow the drops
Baptismal glister, and be nam’d anew
After the Christian custom of our land?
SHYLOCK. Most noble duke, I am content, and do
Hereby renounce my nation and my faith,
And, which is more, raze out of mind the name
That I have borne these three-score heavy years,
Since it is thy command.
DUKE. Cristofero
Shalt thou be call’d hereafter. Now, good priest,
Thine office do with ceremonies meet,
And make this greybeard Jew a Christian straight.
_Solemn music heard, after which_ SHYLOCK _is baptized by the
priest_, ANTONIO _at the command of the_ DUKE _standing
godfather to the Jew, who makes the required responses in a
low voice. While he is still kneeling the company converse in
an undertone._
GRATIANO. I much mislike this new made Christian’s face
Nor would I trust Cristofero for all
His Christian name and meekly mutter’d vows.
PORTIA. Nay, Gratiano, question not the heart
Nor rudely draw aside the veil that speech
Hangs ever ’fore the spirit. Who may say
That e’en the best among us keeps a faith
Loyal to every smallest clause, or does
Not slip at whiles amid the thousand small
Requirements of the law. And yet, we do
Implore a gentle sentence on these sins
Of ours, a pardon that shall make us whole.
If, for ourselves, then trebly for the Jew
New come, bewilder’d, to our Christian creed.
ANTONIO. There will be space enow to doubt the Jew
Turn’d Christian, Gratiano, when he shall
Give cause for doubt. ’Twere scantest charity
Till then, to bear with him, as we do bear
Ourselves unto our fellow Christians all.
A bitter lesson hath he lately conn’d,
And he were mad indeed that should neglect
To profit by’t.
GRATIANO. Belike, belike ’tis thus,
But yet I do not like Cristofero’s looks;
I’ll not be argu’d out of that, i’ faith,
And say’t again, I much mislike his favour.
NERISSA. Peace, Gratiano, dost not note the duke
Commands to silence, and would speak once more?
Thou wilt be ever talking, as thy wont.
DUKE. Cristofero, thou bear’st a Christian name
From this day forth. Then look to’t that thou dost
In all things as a Christian, not as Jew.
SHYLOCK. In all things as a Christian. Yes. [_Aside_] Why that’s
Revenge! Revenge!
DUKE. So must thou quit thy house
In Jewry, dwell mid Christian folk, and go
With Christian folk to church on holy days,
And wear henceforth the cross thou did’st disdain.
Dost hearken unto us, Cristofero?
SHYLOCK. I hear but to obey, dread duke; and thank
Thee for thy clemency to me, once Jew,
But now, within this very selfsame hour,
A gasping new born Christian, all unschool’d
In duties other Christians know full well,
Yet earnest still, to act the Christian’s part,
With hope to better his ensample set.
GRATIANO [_aside to_ BASSANIO] For all thy gentle Portia saith but
now, I like not such smooth terms from out those lips.
BASSANIO [_aside_] Peace, Gratiano, let him say his say,
He cannot now do aught to injure thee.
[_Exeunt_ DUKE _and train with_ ANTONIO _and
friends_. LORENZO _and_ JESSICA _come forward_.
JESSICA. How now, good father Cristofero; what a pair of
Christians are we both. Only there’s this difference betwixt us, good
father. I am a Christian for love of a husband and you have turned a
Christian for love of your ducats.
SHYLOCK. Ungrateful daughter; Why did’st thou go forth from my
house by night and rob thy grey-haired father of his treasure?
JESSICA. Why? That’s most easy of answer. Why, because I desired
a Christian husband and there was no coming by my desire save by
secret flight from your most gloomy chambers; and since neither my
Christian husband nor your daughter Jessica could by any kind of
contriving live upon air alone, we had, perforce, to take with us
some of your ducats for the bettering our condition. Speak thou for
me, Lorenzo. Was it not e’en so?
LORENZO. Old man, I am sorry for that I was forced to take from
you your daughter and your ducats against your good pleasure, but I
must tell you that I loved her as myself [_Aside_] nay, much more, my
Jessica,--and by reason of this great love of mine, and because of
your exceeding hatred towards all Christians did I take her from your
house. And since, moreover, as the maid very truly says, there’s no
living i’ the world without the means to live, because of this did
we make shift to take with us from your house such means, as well
advised you would not have your daughter lack for food and suitable
apparel, and since we are now Christians all, what matters it?
SHYLOCK [_slowly_] Ay, what matters it? We are now Christians
all, as thou sayest, and, I remember me that I have heard it said
it is a Christian’s duty to forgive all who have wronged him.
Therefore I forgive you, Jessica--for robbing your old father; and
you, Lorenzo, I forgive--for stealing my daughter. You are each
well mated. But I would be alone a while. Go, good Jessica. Go, son
Lorenzo.
[_Exeunt_ LORENZO _and_ JESSICA.
SHYLOCK [_alone_] A curse pursue the twain where’er they go.
A Christian-Jewish curse, since that should be
Weightier than either singly. Would that I
Might see them dead before me, while I live,--
Such love I bear my daughter, and my son.
[_Gazes about the church._
These be the images of Christian saints
Whom I must bend the knee before when men
Look on. And here the Virgin; here the Christ.
Now must I kneel; a hundred eyes perchance,
Peer at me through the gloom. A hundred eyes
May see me kneel, yet shall they not perceive
The scorner of the Christian hid within
The humble figure of the man who kneels.
Now, by the prophets, whom I reverence,
And by these Christian saints whom I do scorn,
I swear to nourish my revenge till those
I deepest hate are dead, or sham’d before
Their fellows. But how this may be, I know
Not yet, for all the way were dark as night
Before me, save that my revenge burns red.
[_Choir heard chanting in a distant chapel._
[_Rises from his knees._
Good fellow Christians, it may hap the Jew
Turn’d Christian, shall yet do a harm to ye.
Behind Cristofero’s mask is still the face
Of Shylock; in his breast the heart unchang’d.
[_Choir heard chanting_ Judica me Deus.
Yea, my good fellow Christians, I do thank
Ye for that word, and hug it to my heart.
Henceforth it shall be mine, when I do pray,
Not to thy Christ, but unto Israel’s God!
“Give sentence with me, O my God; defend
My cause against the hosts that wrought me ill.”
[_Choir in the distance, responding_ Amen.
[_Exit_ SHYLOCK.
NOTE BY WILLIAM J. ROLFE, LITT.D.
It is a tribute of no slight significance to Shakespeare’s skill
in the delineation of character that we instinctively regard the
personages in his mimic world as real men and women, and are not
satisfied to think of them only as they appear on the stage. We like
to follow them after they have left the scene, and to speculate
concerning their subsequent history. The commentators on _Much Ado_,
for instance, are not willing to dismiss Benedick and Beatrice
when the play closes without discussing the question whether they
probably “lived happily ever after.” Some, like Mrs. Jameson and
the poet Campbell, have their misgivings about the future of the
pair, fearing that “poor Benedick” will not escape the “predestinate
scratched face” which he himself had predicted for the man who should
woo and win that “infernal Até in good apparel,” as he called her;
while others, like Verplanck, Charles Cowden-Clarke, Furnivall, and
Gervinus, believe that their married life will be of “the brightest
and sunniest.”
Some have gone back of the beginning of the plays, like Mrs.
Cowden-Clarke in her _Girlhood of Shakespeare’s Heroines_, and
Lady Martin (Helena Faucit) in her paper on Ophelia in _Some of
Shakespeare’s Female Characters_.
Others, like Mr. Adams, have made the experiment of continuing a
play of Shakespeare in dramatic form. Ernest Renan, in France, and
Mr. C. P. Cranch, in this country, have both done this in the case
of _The Tempest_, mainly with the view of following out the possible
adventures of Caliban after Prospero had left him to his own devices.
These and similar sequels to the plays are nowise meant as attempts
to “improve” Shakespeare (like Nahum Tate’s version of _Lear_, that
held the stage for a hundred and sixty years) and sundry other
perversions of the plays in the eighteenth century, which have damned
their presumptuous authors to everlasting infamy. They are what
Renan, in his preface, calls his _Caliban_,--“an idealist’s fancy
sketch, a simple fantasy of the imagination.”
Mr. Adams’s Sixth Act of _The Merchant of Venice_ is an experiment
of the same kind; not, as certain captious critics have regarded it,
a foolhardy attempt to rival Shakespeare. It was originally written
for an evening entertainment of the “Old Cambridge Shakespeare
Association.” No one in that cultivated company misunderstood the
author’s aim, and all heartily enjoyed it. I believe that it will
give no less pleasure to the larger audience to whom it is now
presented in print.
Transcriber’s Note:
Words may have multiple spelling variations or inconsistent
hyphenation in the text. These have been left unchanged. Obsolete
words, alternative spellings, and misspelled words were not corrected.
Words and phrases in italics are surrounded by underscores, _like
this_. Obvious printing errors, such as backwards, reversed, upside
down, or partially printed letters and punctuation, were corrected.
Final stops missing at the end of sentences and abbreviations were
added. Duplicate words at line endings were removed. Right-aligned
stage directions were adjusted so that all are preceded by an open
bracket.