That you

would wear it till your hour of death

And that it should lie with you in your grave:

28

Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,
You should have been respective 25 and have kept it.
Gave it a judge's clerk! no, God's my judge,
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it.
GRATIANO. He will, an if he live to be a man.
NERISSA. Ay, if a woman live to be a man.
GRATIANO. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth,

A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy,

No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk,

A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee :

I could not for my heart deny it him.

PORTIA. You were to blame, I must be plain with you,

To part so slightly with your wife's first gift;
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger
And so riveted with faith unto your flesh.
I gave my love a ring and made him swear
Never to part with it; and here he stands;

I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it

Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth
That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano,
You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief:

An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it.

BASSANIO. [Aside] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off

And swear I lost the ring defending it.

GRATIANO. My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away

Unto the judge that begg'd it and indeed

Deserved it too: and then the boy, his clerk,

That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine;

And neither man nor master would take aught

But the two rings.

PORTIA.

What ring gave you, my lord?

Not that, I hope, which you received of me.

BASSANIO. If I could add a lie unto a fault,

I would deny it; but you see my finger

Hath not the ring upon it; it is gone.

PORTIA. Even so void is your false heart of truth.

By heaven, I will never be your wife

Until I see the ring.

1

If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
If you did know for whom I gave the ring,
And would conceive for what I gave the ring,
And how unwillingly I left the ring,

When nought would be accepted but the ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure.

PORTIA. If you had known the virtue of the ring, 29
Or half her worthiness that gave the ring,

Or your own honour to contain 3o the ring,

You would not then have parted with the ring.
What man is there so much unreasonable,

If you had pleased to have defended it

With any terms of zeal, wanted 31 the modesty
To urge the thing held as a ceremony? 32
Nerissa teaches me what to believe:

I'll die for't but some woman had the ring.

BASSANIO. No, by my honour, madam, by my soul,

No woman had it, but a civil doctor,33

Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me

And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him
And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away;

Even he that did uphold the very life

Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady?
I was enforc'd to send it after him;

I was beset with shame and courtesy ;

My honour would not let ingratitude

34

So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady;

For, by these blessed candles of the night,

Had you been there, I think you would have begg'd

The ring of me to give the worthy doctor.

PORTIA. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house :

Since he hath got the jewel that I loved,

And that which you did swear to keep for me,

I will become as liberal as you;

I'll not deny him any thing I have.

ANTONIO.

PORTIA.

I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels.
Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome notwithstanding.

BASSANIO. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong;

And, in the hearing of these many friends,

I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes,

Wherein I see myself—

PORTIA.

Mark you but that!

In both my eyes he doubly sees himself;

In each eye, one: swear by your double self,
And there's an oath of credit.

BASSANIO.

Nay, but hear me:

Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear

I never more will break an oath with thee.

ANTONIO. I once did lend my body for his wealth; 35 Which, but for him that had your husband's ring,

Had quite miscarried: I dare be bound again,

My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord

Will never more break faith advisedly.36

PORTIA. Then you shall be his surety. Give him this,

And bid him keep it better than the other.

ANTONIO. Here, Lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring.
BASSANIO. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor!
You are all amazed:

PORTIA.

Here is a letter: read it at your leisure;

It comes from Padua, from Bellario:

There you shall find that Portia was the doctor,
Nerissa there her clerk: Lorenzo here

Shall witness I set forth as soon as you

And even but now return'd: I have not yet
Enter'd my house. Antonio, you are welcome;
And I have better news in store for you

Than you expect: unseal this letter soon;
There you shall find three of your argosies
Are richly 37
come to harbour suddenly:
You shall not know by what strange accident

I chanced on this letter.

38

BASSANIO. Were you the doctor and I knew you not?
GRATIANO. Were you the clerk and yet I knew you not?
ANTONIO. Sweet lady, you have given me life and living;
For here I read for certain that my ships

Are safely come to road.

39

My clerk hath some good comforts too for you.

NERISSA. Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee.

There do I give to you and Jessica,

From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift,

After his death, of all he dies possess'd of.

LORENZO. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Of starved people.

PORTIA.

It is almost morning,
And yet I am sure you are not satisfied
Of these events at full. 4° Let us go in ;
And charge us there upon inter'gatories,
And we will answer all things faithfully.

41

GRATIANO. Well, while I live I'll fear no other thing

So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring.

[Exeunt.

NOTES TO THE MERCHANT OF VENICE.

THE essential thing in the drama is action. It is thus distinguished from the epic, which narrates heroic deeds, and from the lyric, which expresses intense emotion. The drama presents a series of grave or humorous incidents that terminate in a striking result. Its ultimate basis is found in our natural love of imitation; and hence it is not restricted to any race or age or country. India and China, Greece and Rome, no less than modern nations, delighted in dramatic exhibitions, and produced a notable dramatic literature. Obviously the drama is not inherently evil; and if it has often been condemned by pagan sage and Christian teacher, the condemnation has been evoked by the degeneracy and dissoluteness of the stage.

The principal species of the drama are tragedy and comedy. Tragedy represents an important and serious action, which usually has a fatal termination; it appeals to the earnest side of our nature, and moves our deepest feelings. Comedy consists in a representation of light and amusing incidents; it exhibits the foibles of individuals, the manners of society, and the humorous accidents of life. The laws of the drama are substantially the same for both tragedy and comedy. There must be unity in the dramatic action. This requires that the separate incidents contribute in some way to the development of the plot and to the final result or dénouement. A collection of disconnected scenes, no matter how interesting in themselves, would not make a drama.

The action of the drama should exhibit movement or progress, in which several stages may be clearly marked. The introduction acquaints us, more or less fully, with the subject to be treated. It usually brings before us some of the leading characters, and shows us the circumstances in which they are placed. In the "Merchant of Venice," for example, the First Scene reveals Antonio's ventures at sea, and Bassanio's desire to woo the fair Portia, which facts furnish the basis of the subsequent action. After the introduction follows the growth or development of the action toward the climax. From the days of Aristotle, this part of the drama has been called the tying of the knot, and it needs to be managed with great care. If the development is too slow, the interest lags; if too rapid, the climax appears tame. The interest of a drama depends in large measure upon the successful arrangement of the climax. In our best dramas it usually occurs near the middle of the piece.