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Shakspere: Personal Recollections

<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2> <h4>THE JEW. SHYLOCK. "MERCHANT OF VENICE."</h4> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "O, it is excellent To have a giant's strength, but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant." </div> <div class="stanza"> "Had I power, I should Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All Unity on earth." </div> </div> In my peregrinations and bohemian investigations I have met on several occasions, and in strange lands, Mr. Ahasuerus, the Jerusalem shoemaker, who is reported to have jeered and scoffed at Christ as he passed his shop, bearing the heavy cross up the rugged heights of Calvary. That was a terrible day for Jesus of Nazareth (dying for the sins of others), but worse for his foolish brother, the Jew shoemaker; for as punishment to the scoffing and heartless Ishmaelite, the "Son of God," bending under the weight of the cross, exclaimed to the "Son of Saint Crispin": "Tarry thou 'till I come! Move on!" And from that hour to this the "Wandering Jew" has been traveling and seeking for peace and death, but has never found surcease from everlasting sorrow and misery. I have often met his business partners, Solomon Isaacs and David Levy; and while these gentlemen are compelled by nations to "move on," they have the great gift of loading up their pack with the rarest jewels—silver, gold and diamonds being their great specialty—with ready made clothing, pawnshops and banks as convenient adjuncts. Their three golden balls, worn in front of their establishments, they say, represent energy, economy and wealth; while their victims insist that they represent passion, poverty and suicide. And yet these wandering Jews of all lands and climes, having no home or country anywhere, have the best of homes, churches, banks and temples everywhere. War and peace they often hold in their financial power, and therefore become the arbitrators and umpires of national fate. When my friend William was working on the rough sketch of the "Merchant of Venice," in the years 1598 and 1599, there was a great hate manifested against the London Jews, Dr. Lopez, the physician of Queen Elizabeth, having been recently tried and hung for the design of poisoning Her Majesty. The Jews were accused of clipping the coins of the realm, demanding one hundred per cent. usury, bewitching the people, sacrificing Christian boys on the altar of religious fanaticism and setting fire to the warehouses and shipping along the Thames. These outrageous stories were believed by many people, and Shakspere, being infected by the hate of the multitude (for the first time in his intellectual career), fashioned the repulsive character of Shylock, who walks the world as a synonym of greed, hate and vengeance. Several Jew plays had been put on the London boards, like the "Venetian Comedy" and the "Jew of Malta," but none had the lofty pitch of Shakspere's, who derived his main idea of the play from the Italian story of "Pecorone," by Florentina, and Silvayn's "Orator." Yet, with William's imagination, a hint was sufficient, the rose and acorn giving him scope enough to create flower gardens and forest ranges. The Jew has always been a great subject for the world's contention and condemnation, particularly since the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth. If Christ, the Jew, suffered for others, his own race for nearly two thousand years have been "scapegoats" for private and public villains. From the days of Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, Louis the Fourteenth of France, Henry the Eighth and Elizabeth of England, Emperor William of Germany and the Czars Nicholas and Alexander of Russia, the Jews have been robbed, exiled and murdered by Christian rulers, presumptively for their rebellion against the State, but really as an excuse to rob them of their jewels and gold. The Caucasian Christian has never hesitated to rob and murder anybody anywhere for cash and country! Look over the world to-day, and you behold nothing but diplomatic cheating, domestic and foreign robbery and international murder for individual ambition and national territorial expansion! The official hypocrite is the greatest liar of the century! England, Germany, France, Russia and the United States are this very day competing with each other in the race for universal empire! Considering that "Uncle Sam" has had only one hundred and twenty-six years of national life, he has forged to the front amazingly, and has become the grandest "General" on the globe! He does things! The "gentle reader" (confidentially speaking) may think this a slight digression from the "Merchant of Venice," which was enacted at the Globe Theatre, London, on the first Saturday in December, 1599. The "gentle reader" may also have found out by this time that the "subscriber" pays little attention to the "unities of time and place," as a thousand years are but short milestones in the life of the "Strulbug" family! What the "gentle reader" needs more than anything else is knowledge and truth; and he observes, if he observes at all, that I give bits of the most eloquent and philosophic speeches in all the plays of Shakspere, besides the true personal transactions and escapades of the Bard of Avon! The enactment of the various scenes of the "Merchant of Venice" takes place in the great water city—Venice, "Queen of the Adriatic," that ruled the commercial world two thousand years ago. Antonio, the Christian merchant, and Shylock, the usurious Jew, are the principal characters of the play, while Portia, the wealthy heiress, and Jessica, the daughter of Shylock, with Bassanio and Lorenzo carry the thread of Shakspere's argument trying to prove that it is Christian justice to steal an old man's money and daughter, and punish him for demanding his legal rights! In speaking privately to William I tried to have him change the logic and morals of the play, but his curt answer was: "Jack, the dramatic demand and tyrant public must be satisfied." Burbage took the part of Antonio, Jo Taylor played Shylock, William played Portia, Condell acted Bassanio, Heming represented Lorenzo and Field played Jessica, Poole played Gratiano, Slye played the Duke. The Globe Theatre was packed from pit to loft by the greatest variety audience I had ever seen; lords, ladies, lawyers, doctors, merchants, mechanics, soldiers, sailors, and street riff-raff—all assembled to see and hear how the Jew, Shylock, was to be roasted by the greatest dramatist of the ages. Antonio in a street scene in Venice opens up the play thus: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "In sooth, I know not why I am so sad; That I am much ado to know myself." </div> </div> Salarino replies to the ship merchant: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Your mind is tossing on the ocean; There, where your argosies, with portly sail— Like signiors and rich burghers of the flood, Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea As they fly to traffickers with their woven wings." </div> </div> Antonio says to his friend Gratiano: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; A stage where every man must play a part, And mine a sad one." </div> </div> But the light and airy Gratiano utters this philosophic speech, which the "gentle reader" should cut out and paste in his hat: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Let me play the Fool; With mirth and laughter, let old wrinkles come; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice, By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,— I love thee, and it is my love that speaks; There are a sort of men, whose visages Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond; And do a wilful stillness entertain, With purpose to be dressed in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit; As who should say, I am Sir Oracle, And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark! O, my Antonio, I do know of these, That therefore only are reputed wise, For saying nothing; who I am very sure, If they should speak, would almost damn those ears Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools!" </div> </div> Bassanio, in love with the rich heiress, Portia, tries to borrow three thousand ducats from Shylock, and Antonio, his friend, is willing to give bond for the loan. The Jew and the Christian hate each other; and Shylock vents his opinion: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "How like a fawning publican he looks! I hate him, for he is a Christian; Antonio lends out money gratis and brings down— The rate of usury here with us in Venice. If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. He hates our sacred nation; and he rails, Even there where merchants most do congregate, On me, my bargains, and my well worn thrift, Which he calls interest; cursed be my tribe If I forgive him!" </div> </div> Antonio finally asks for the three thousand ducats, and says: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Well, Shylock, shall we be beholden to you?" </div> </div> Then in a speech of brave defiance, Shylock humiliates the Gentile merchant in this manner: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Signior Antonio, many a time and oft In the Rialto you have rated me About my monies, and my usury; Still have I borne it with a patient shrug; For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe; You call me misbeliever, cut-throat, dog, And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, And all for use of that which is mine own. Well, then, it now appears you need my help; Go to, then; you come to me and you say: Shylock, we would have monies; you say so; You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur— Over your threshold; monies is your suit. What should I say to you? Should I not say; Hath a dog money? Is it possible A cur can lend three thousand ducats? Or Shall I bend low, and in a bondsman's key, With bated breath and whispering humbleness say this— Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last; You spurned me such a day; another time You called me—dog, and for these courtesies I'll lend you thus much monies!" </div> </div> Antonio, not any way abashed at the scolding of the money lender, says: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "I am as like to call thee dog again, And spit on thee again, to spurn thee, too!" </div> </div> Shylock then agrees to lend the three thousand ducats if Antonio will give bond and penalty to pay the money back with interest in three months. Shylock says: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Let the forfeit of the bond Be nominated for an equal pound Of your fair flesh, to be cut off, and taken In what part of your body pleaseth me!" </div> </div> The second act opens with Portia in her grand home at "Belmont," awaiting suitors for her wealth, beauty and brains. Her father dying, left three locked chests, gold, silver, and lead, one of them containing the picture of Portia; and the fortunate suitor who picked out that rich casket, was to be the husband of the brilliant Portia. The Prince of Morocco and Prince of Arragon, with Bassanio, were the suitors. Portia says to Morocco: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "In terms of choice I am not solely led By nice direction of a maiden's eyes; Besides, the lottery of my destiny Bars me the right of voluntary choosing." </div> </div> Launcelot, the foolish serving man for Shylock, says to old Gobbo, his blind father: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Do you not know me, father?" </div> </div> Gobbo replies: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Alack, sir. I am sand-blind. I know you not." </div> </div> Launcelot makes this wise statement: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, You might fail of the knowing of me: It is a wise father that knows his own child!" </div> </div> Shylock discharges Launcelot, and Jessica, the beautiful daughter of the money lender, parts with him regretfully—she gives him a secret letter to deliver to her Christian lover, Lorenzo, and then says: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Farewell, good Launcelot— Alack, what heinous sin it is in me To be ashamed to be my father's child! But though I am a daughter to his blood, I am not to his manners; O Lorenzo, If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife; Become a Christian, and thy loving wife!" </div> </div> This beautiful Jewess forswears her birth and religion for infatuated love, and throws to the winds all duty and honor as a daughter; a renegade of matchless quality, stealing her father's money and jewels to elope with the fascinating Christian Lorenzo. The Hebrew race has not produced many Jessicas; and the morality taught by Shakspere of a daughter "fooling her father" is base and rotten in principle. Shylock says to his daughter: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Well, Jessica, go in to the house, Perhaps I will return immediately; Do as I bid you; Shut doors after you; fast bind, fast find, A proverb never stale in thrifty mind." </div> </div> Then at the turn of his back the beautiful fraud Jessica says: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Farewell, and if my fortune be not crost, I have a father, you a daughter, lost!" </div> </div> Lorenzo with his friends appear under the window of Shylock's house to steal away Jessica, and she appears above in boy's clothes, and asks: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Who are you? Tell me for more certainty, Albeit, I'll swear that I do know your tongue." </div> </div> He responds: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Lorenzo and thy love." </div> </div> Jessica before leaving her home spouts the following stuff to her lover: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Here, catch this casket, it is worth the pains; I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me; For I am much ashamed of my exchange; But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit; For if they could, Cupid himself would blush To see me thus transformed to a boy. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself With some more ducats, and be with you straight!" </div> </div> Nice specimen of a dutiful daughter. Contrast the conduct of the Christian Portia with the Hebrew Jessica, and the latter's action is thoroughly reprehensible. Portia obeys the injunction and will of a dead father, while Jessica violates criminally the duty she owes a live father, who is in the toils of personal and official swindlers. Portia in her palace awaits foreign and domestic suitors for her hand, heart and wealth. The Prince of Morocco and his train first appear. Portia in her splendid drawing room receives the Prince, and says to her waiting maid: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Go draw aside the curtains, and discover The several caskets to this noble prince;— Now make your choice!" </div> </div> The Prince reads the inscriptions on the three caskets, gold, silver and lead: "Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire." "Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves." "Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath." The Prince asks: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "How shall I know if I do choose the right?" </div> </div> Portia replies: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "The one of them contains my picture, Prince; If you choose that then I am yours withal." </div> </div> The Prince of Morocco makes a long speech on the beauty and glory of Portia, and then decides to open the golden casket. Portia hands him the key, and when the contents come to view he exclaims: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "O hell! what have we here!" </div> <div class="stanza"> "A carrion death, within whose empty eye There is a written scroll? I'll read the writing. </div> <div class="stanza"> 'All that glitters is not gold, Often have you heard that told; Many a man his life hath 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 enscrolled, Fare you well, your suit is cold.'" </div> </div> The disappointed black prince says: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Portia, adieu! I have too grieved a heart To take a tedious leave; thus lovers part." </div> </div> Portia exclaims after his exit: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "A gentle riddance; draw the curtains, go Let all of his complexion choose me so!" </div> </div> When Shylock returned home, found his house deserted and robbed, he rushed into the street, and cried: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter! Fled with a Christian? O 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! And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones Stolen by my daughter! Justice! Find the girl! She hath the stones upon her and the ducats!" </div> </div> The frantic raging of the old broken down, soul lacerated Jew, only brought from that Christian audience, laughter, yells, and howling jeers. The mob spirit was there, and the appeal for justice by Shylock fell upon deaf ears and stony hearts. Portia still holds court for her hand and heart at beautiful "Belmont," setting like an Egyptian Queen in the circling, blooming hills of the blue Adriatic. The Prince of Arragon comes to the choice of caskets, and with lofty words in praise of virtue, says: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Let none presume to wear an undeserved dignity. O, that estates, degrees, and offices, Were not obtained corruptly! and that clear honor Were purchased by the merit of the wearer! How many then should cover, that stand bare! How many be commanded that command! How much low corruption would then be gleaned From the true seed of honor! and how much honor Picked from the chaff and ruin of the times!" </div> </div> The Globe Theatre shook with applause at this fine political speech of the Prince, and may be well contemplated in the State transactions of to-day. The Prince unlocks the silver casket, and finds a portrait of a blinking idiot; and departing exclaims: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "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!" </div> </div> Portia soliloquizes: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Thus hath the candle singed the moth Of these deliberate fools, when they do choose, They bare their wisdom by their wit to lose." </div> </div> And Nerissa, the bright waiting maid, says: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "The ancient saying is no heresy;— Hanging and wiving go by destiny!" </div> </div> The third act opens with a street in Venice, and friends of Antonio bemoan the reported loss of several of his ships at sea, which will cause his default and ruin, by the demands of Shylock. Salarino says to the Jew: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Why, I am sure if he forfeit, thou wilt not Take his flesh; what's that good for?" </div> </div> Shylock now begins to gloat over his prospect of a dire vengeance upon the Christian Antonio, and replies to Salarino: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "To bait fish withal; if it will feed nothing else, It will feed my revenge! Antonio hates me because I'm a Jew; Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands; Organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, Subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, Warmed and cooled by the same summer and winter, As a Christian is? If you <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'pick'">prick</ins> 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 shall we not revenge? The villainy you teach me, I will execute!" </div> </div> Tubal, the Hebrew friend of Shylock, says: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "But Antonio is certainly undone." </div> </div> Shylock delighted says: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "That's true, that's very true. Tubal, fee me an officer; bespeak him a fortnight before. I will have the heart of Antonio if he forfeit the bond. Go, Tubal, meet me at our synagogue." </div> </div> Portia again appears for the third time to undergo matrimonial choice. Bassanio, the particular friend of Antonio, is the real love suitor for the hand and heart of the beautiful Portia, and appears at her palace, attended by his faithful Venetian friends. He is a high-toned, but impecunious Italian gentleman, whose heart and soul are ninety per cent. larger than his pockets. Portia seems to be fascinated with Bassanio, and wishes him to remain at her home and take time in choosing the right casket, but he wants to act instanter, confessing his love. Portia says: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Let music sound while he doth make his choice; Now he goes, With no less dignity, but with much more love Than young Alcides, when he did redeem The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy To the sea monster!" </div> </div> Bassanio, standing before the leaden casket, utters this high sounding, moral, truthful speech: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "The world is still deceived with ornament. In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, But, being seasoned with a gracious voice Obscures the show of evil? In religion, What damned error, but some sober brow Will bless it, and approve it with a text, Hiding the grossness with fair ornament? There is no vice so simple, but assumes Some mark of virtue on his outward parts! How many cowards whose hearts are all as false As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins The beard of Hercules, and frowning Mars; Who, inward searched, have livers white as milk? And these assume but valor's excrement, To render them redoubted. Look on beauty And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight; Which therein works a miracle in nature, Making them lightest that wear most of it; So are those curled, snaky golden locks, Which make such wanton gambols with the wind Upon supposed fairness, often known To be the dowers of a second head; The scull that bred them in the sepulchre. Thus ornament is but the treacherous shore To a most dangerous sea! Thou meagre lead casket, Which rather rebuffs than dost promise aught, Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence, And here choose I; joy the consequence!" </div> </div> Opening the leaden casket, Bassanio exclaims: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "What find I here? Fair Portia's counterfeit. What demigod Hath come so near creation; Here's the scroll, The continent and summary of my fortune— 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!" </div> </div> Bassanio kisses Portia, and she makes this womanly speech: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand Such as I am; though for myself alone I would not be ambitious in my wish To wish myself much better; yet, for you I would be trebled twenty times myself; A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich. Happiest of all is that my fond spirit Commits itself to yours to be directed, As from her Lord, her Governor, her King! Myself and what is mine, to you and yours Is now converted; but now I was the Lord Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now, This house, these servants, and this same myself, Are yours, my Lord, I give them with this ring; Which when you part from, lose, or give away, Let it presage the ruin of your love, And be my vantage to exclaim to you!" </div> </div> Bassanio tells Portia that he is not a freeman, that Antonio borrowed three thousand ducats for him from Shylock, and that now he is miserable because Antonio may lose his life by the Jew claiming a pound of flesh in forfeit of the bonded debt. Portia proposes to pay six thousand ducats rather than Antonio suffer, and says to Bassanio: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "First go with me to church and call me wife, Then away to Venice to your friend. You shall have gold To pay the petty debt twenty times over!" </div> </div> Shylock swears out a writ and puts Antonio in jail, and demands trial before the Grand Duke of Venice. The Duke in open court, with all the witnesses and lawyers and people present, implores Shylock not to insist to cut a pound of flesh from the body of Antonio, and argues for mercy. But, Shylock, impenetrable to the cries of mercy, says to the judge: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "I have told your grace of what I purpose; And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn, To have the due and forfeit of my bond. The pound of flesh which I demand of him Is dearly bought, is mine, and I will have it; If you deny me, fye upon your law! I stand for judgment; shall I have it?" </div> </div> A learned doctor of laws, Bellario, is expected to appear as the advocate for Antonio, and the Duke awaits him; but receives a letter saying that a young lawyer named Balthazar will represent him, as sickness prevents his presence. Portia disguised like a doctor of laws appears in court. The Duke asks: "Come you from old Bellario?" Portia replies: "I did, my lord." Antonio and Shylock stand up in court, and Portia, after surveying each, inquires: "Is your name Shylock?" He replies: "Shylock is my name." She says to Antonio: "You stand within Shylock's control, do you not?" He responds: "Ay, so he says." Portia asks: "Do you confess the bond?" Antonio replies: "I do." Portia: "Then must the Jew be merciful?" Shylock asks: "On what compulsion must I? Tell me that?" Then Portia rises in court and makes this lofty, never to be forgotten speech: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "The quality of mercy is not strained; It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven, Upon the place beneath; it is twice blessed; It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes; 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty: Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above his sceptred sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself, And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this,— That in the course of justice, none of us Should see salvation; we do pray for mercy; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy, I have spoke this much To mitigate the justice of thy plea; Which, if thou follow, this strict court of Venice Must needs give sentence against the merchant there." </div> </div> Shylock, with unforgiving spirit, replies: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "My deeds upon my head! I crave the law, The penalty and forfeit of my bond!" </div> </div> Portia asks: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Is not Antonio able to discharge the money?" </div> </div> Bassanio replies: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Yes; here I tender it for him in the court; Yea, twice the sum," </div> </div> and still appealing to the Duke, says: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "To do a great right, do a little wrong, And curb this cruel devil of his will!" </div> </div> Portia says: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "There is no power in Venice can altar a decree established." </div> </div> And Shylock, lighting up with joy, replies: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel!" </div> </div> Preparation is made to cut the pound of flesh from the breast of Antonio; and this brave old Christian merchant says to his dearest friend, Bassanio: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Fare you well! Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you; For herein fortune shows herself more kind Than is her custom; it is still her use To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow, An age of poverty." </div> </div> Portia, speaking to Shylock, says: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Take thou thy pound of flesh; But, in the cutting, if thou dost shed One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscated Unto the State of Venice!" </div> </div> The Jew finding himself absolutely blocked consents to take the money offered. Yet, Portia tells him that his property and life are now at the mercy of the Duke because he has conspired against the life of a citizen of Venice, and bids him: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke!" </div> </div> Then the great Duke, judge of the court, speaks to Shylock: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit, I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it; For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's, The other half comes to the general state!" </div> </div> Shylock bravely replies: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Take my life and all, pardon not that; You take my house, when you do take the prop That doth sustain my house; you take my life When you do take the means whereby I live!" </div> </div> Then Antonio says if the Jew will give up all his property to Lorenzo and his daughter Jessica, and become a Christian, he the "Merchant of Venice," will be content. Portia then triumphantly asks: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Art thou content, Jew, what dost thou say?" </div> </div> And poor old Shylock gasps: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "I am content." </div> </div> Thus ends one of the most barefaced swindles of the ages; and my friend William is responsible for the nefarious and systematic machinery of roguery and persecution injected into the play to satisfy Christian hate against the wandering Jew. In looking around the world even to-day, we might truthfully exclaim: "O, Christianity! Christianity! how many crimes are committed in thy name!" The fifth act of the "Merchant of Venice" winds up with harmonious love and prosperity for all concerned. At the beautiful home of "Belmont," Bassanio, Portia, Lorenzo and Jessica, as well as Gratiano and Nerissa are married and living in blissful association. In the moonlit, lovelit conversation between Lorenzo and his Jewish wife, Jessica, Shakspere wings in some of his finest classical allusions, a word banquet for all passion struck lovers. Lorenzo seated amid waving trees, trailing vines and perfumed flowers illuminated by the mystic rays of Luna, says to Jessica: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "The moon shines bright; in such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, And they did make no noise; in such a night, Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls, And sighed his soul towards the Grecian tents Where Cressid lay that night." </div> </div> Jessica replies: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "In such a night Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew; And saw the lion's shadow ere himself, And ran dismayed away." </div> </div> Then Lorenzo talks: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "In such a night Stood Dido with a willow in her hand Upon the wild sea banks, and waved her love To come again to Carthage." </div> </div> And Jessica: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "In such a night Medea gathered the enchanted herbs That did renew old Aeson." </div> </div> Lorenzo then triumphant speaks: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "In such a night Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew; And with an unthrifty love did run from Venice, As far as Belmont." </div> </div> Jessica satirically replies: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "In such a night Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well; Stealing her soul with many vows of faith, And ne'er a true one." </div> </div> Lorenzo fires back this answer: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "And in such a night Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew Slander her love, and he forgave it her." </div> </div> Jessica gets in the last word, and says: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "I would outnight you, did nobody come; But hark, I hear the footing of a man." </div> </div> Lorenzo declines to enter the house for rest or sleep, but still discourses of love and music: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night, Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica; look, how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold; There's not the smallest orb, which thou beholdest But in his motion like an angel sings. Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubins; Such harmony is in immortal souls; But, whil'st this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot have it! By the sweet power of music; therefore, the poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods. Since naught so stockish, hard and full of rage But music for the time doth change his nature, The man that hath no music in himself Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night And his affections dark as Erebus; Let no such man be trusted." </div> </div> Portia, Bassanio and friends arrive from the trial of Antonio at Venice, and at the brilliant home of Belmont all is peace and love. Bassanio discovers that the young lawyer in disguise was Portia, and she twits him for giving away his ring to the young advocate, as a recompense for clearing Antonio from the toils of Shylock; and then she discourses to her friends about music by night: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day; The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, When neither is attuned; and I think The nightingale, if she should sing by day When every goose is cackling, would be thought No better a musician than the wren. How many things by season, seasoned are To their right praise and true perfection! Peace, there, the moon sleeps with Endymion And would not be awaked." (Music ceases and all retire.) </div> <div class="stanza"> Music murmurs through the soul Hopes of a sweat heavenly goal, And enchants from pole to pole While the planets round us roll! </div> </div> <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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