English Literature For Boys And Girls by H.E. Marshall

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Then let Antonio beware.

Meantime in Belmont many lovers come to woo fair Portia. With
high hope they come, with anger and disappointment they go away.
None can win the lady's hand. For there is a riddle here of
which none know the meaning.

When a suitor presents himself and asks for the lady's hand in
marriage, he is shown three caskets, one of gold, one of silver,
and one of lead. Upon the golden one is written the words, "Who
chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire"; upon the silver
casket are the words, "Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he
deserves"; and upon the leaden one, "Who chooseth me, must give
and hazard all he hath." And only whoso chooseth aright, each
suitor is told, can win the lady.

This trial of all suitors had been ordered by Portia's father ere
he died, so that only a worthy and true man might win his
daughter. Some suitors choose the gold, some the silver casket,
but all, princes, barons, counts, and dukes, alike choose wrong.

At length Bassanio comes. Already he loves Portia and she loves
him. There is no need of any trail of the caskets. Yet it must
be. Her father's will must be obeyed. But what if he choose
wrong. That is Portia's fear.

"I pray you, tarry; pause a day or two
Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong,
I lose your company,"

she says.

But Bassanio cannot wait:--

"Let me choose;
For, as I am, I live upon the rack."

And so he stands before the caskets, longing to make a choice,
yet fearful. The gold he rejects, the silver too, and lays his
hand upon the leaden casket. He opens it. Oh, joy! within is a
portrait of his lady. He has chosen aright. yet he can scarce
believe his happiness.

"I am," he says,

"Like one of two contending in a prize,
That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes,
Hearing applause, and universal shout,
Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt
Whether those pearls of praise be his or no;
So, thrice fair lady, stand I, even so;
As doubtful whether what I see be true,
Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratifi'd by you."

And Portia, happy, triumphant, humble, no longer the great lady
with untold wealth, with lands and palaces and radiant beauty,
but merely a woman who has given her love, answers:--

"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;
That only to stand high on your account,
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,
Exceed account: but the full sum of me
Is sum of something: which, to term in gross,
Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd,
Happy in this, she is not yet so old
But she may learn; happier than this,
She is not bred so dull but she can learn;
Happiest of all, is, that her gentle spirit
Commite 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."

Then as a pledge of all her love Portia gives to Bassanio a ring,
and bids him never part from it so long as he shall live. And
Bassanio taking it, gladly swears to keep it forever.

"But when this ring
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence;
O, then be bold to say, Bassanio's dead."

And then as if to make the joy complete, it is discovered that
Portia's lady in waiting, Nerissa, and Bassanio's friend,
Gratiano, also love each other, and they all agree to be married
on the same day.

In the midst of this happiness the runaway couple, Lorenzo and
Jessica, arrive from Venice with another of Antonio's friends who
brings a letter to Bassanio. As Bassanio reads the letter all
the gladness fades from his face. He grows pale and trembles.
Anxiously Portia asks what troubles him.

"I am half yourself,
And I must freely have the half of anything
That this same paper brings you."

And Bassanio answers:--

"O sweet Portia,
Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words
That ever blotted paper! Gentle lady,
When I did first impart my love to you,
I freely told you, all the wealth I had
Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman;
And then I told you true: and yet, dear lady,
Rating myself at nothing, you shall see
How much I was a braggart: when I told you
My state was nothing, I should then have told you
That I was worse than nothing."

He is worse than nothing, for he is in debt to his friend, and
that friend for him is now in danger of his life. For the three
months allowed by Shylock for the payment of the debt are over,
and as not one of Antonio's ships has returned, he cannot pay the
money. Many friends have offered to pay for him, but Shylock
will have none of their gold. He does not want it. What he
wants is revenge. He wants Antonio's life, and well he knows if
a pound of flesh be cut from this poor merchant's breast he must
die.

And all for three thousand ducats! "Oh," cries Portia when she
hears, "what a paltry sum! Pay the Jew ten times the money and
tear up the bond, rather than that Antonio shall lose a single
hair through Bassanio's fault."

"It is no use," she is told, "Shylock will have his bond, and
nothing but his bond."

If that be so, then must Bassanio hasten to his friend to comfort
him at least. So the wedding is hurried on, and immediately
after it Bassanio and Gratiano hasten away, leaving their new
wives behind them.

But Portia has no mind to sit at home and do nothing while her
husband's friend is in danger of his life. As soon as Bassanio
has gone, she gives her house into the keeping of Lorenzo and
sets out for Venice. From her cousin, the great lawyer Bellario,
she borrows lawyer's robes for herself, and those of a lawyer's
clerk for Nerissa. And thus disguised, they reach Venice safely.

This part of the story has brought us to the fourth act of the
play, and when the curtain rises on this act we see the Court of
Justice in Venice. The Duke and all his courtiers are present,
the prisoner Antonio, with Bassanio, and many others of his
friends. Shylock is called in. The Duke tries to soften the
Jew's heart and make him turn to mercy, in vain. Bassanio also
tries in vain, and still Bellario, to whom the Duke has sent for
aid, comes not.

At this moment Nerissa, dressed as a lawyer's clerk, enters,
bearing a letter. The letter is from Bellario recommending a
young lawyer named Balthazar to plead Antonio's cause. This is,
of course, none other than Portia. She is admitted, and at once
begins the case. "You stand within his danger, do you not?" she
says to Antonio.

"ANTONIO. I do.

PORTIA. Then must the Jew be merciful.

SHYLOCK. On what compulsion must I? Tell me that.

PORTIA. 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 scepter 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 this sceptr'd 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
Shall see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much,
To mitigate the justice of thy plea;
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there.

SHYLOCK. My deeds upon my head! I crave the law,
The penalty and forfeit of my bond.

PORTIA. Is he not able to discharge the money?

BASSANIO. Yes, here I tender it for him in the court;
Yea, twice the sum: if that will not suffice,
I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er,
On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart:
If this will not suffice, it must appear
That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you
Wrest once the law to your authority:
To do a great right, do a little wrong;
And curb this cruel devil of his will.

PORTIA. It must not be; there is no power in Venice
Can alter a decree established:
'Twill be recorded for a precedent;
And many an error, by the same example,
Will rush into the state; it cannot be.

SHYLOCK. A Daniel come to judgement! yea, a Daniel!
O wise young judge, how I do honour thee!

PORTIA. I pray you, let me look upon the bond.

SHYLOCK. Here 'tis, most reverend doctor, here it is.

PORTIA. Shylock, there's thrice thy money offered thee.

SHYLOCK. An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven:
Shall I lay perjury upon my soul?
No, not for Venice.

PORTIA. Why, this bond is forfeit:
And lawfully by this the Jew may claim
A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off
Nearest the merchant's heart. Be merciful;
Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond.

SHYLOCK. When it is paid according to the tenour.
It doth appear you are a worthy judge;
You know the law, your exposition
Hath been most sound; I charge you by the law,
Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar,
Proceed to judgment: by my soul I swear,
There is no power in the tongue of man
To alter me: I stay here on my bond.

ANTONIO. Most heartily I do beseech the court
To give the judgement.

PORTIA. Why then, thus it is.
You must prepare your bosom for his knife.

SHYLOCK. O noble judge! O excellent young man!

PORTIA. For the intent and purpose of the law
Hath full relation to the penalty,
Which here appeareth due upon the bond.

SHYLOCK. 'Tis very true: O wise and upright judge!
How much more elder art thou than thy looks!

PORTIA. Therefore, lay bare your bosom.

SHYLOCK. Ay, his breast:
So says the bond;--Doth it not, noble judge?
Nearest his heart, those are the very words.

PORTIA. It is so. Are there balance here, to weigh
The flesh?

SHYLOCK. I have them ready.

PORTIA. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge,
To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death.

SHYLOCK. Is it so nominated in the bond?

PORTIA. It is not so express'd. But what of that?
'Twere good you do so much for charity.

SHYLOCK. I cannot find it; 'tis not in the bond.

PORTIA. Come, merchant, have you anything to say?"

Antonio answers, "But little." He is prepared for death, and
takes leave of Bassanio. But Shylock is impatient. "We trifle
time," he cries; "I pray thee, pursue sentence."

"PORTIA. A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine;
The court awards it, and the law doth give it.

SHYLOCK. Most rightful judge!

PORTIA. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast;
The law allows it; and the court awards it.

SHYLOCK. Most learned judge!--A sentence; come, prepare.

PORTIA. Tarry a little;--there is something else.
This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood;
The words expressly are, a pound of flesh:
But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed
One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods
Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate
Unto the state of Venice.

GRATIANO. O upright judge!--Mark, Jew;--O learned judge!

SHYLOCK. Is that the law?

PORTIA. Thyself shall see the act;
For, as thou urgest justice, be assur'd,
Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desir'st.

GRATIANO. O learned judge,--Mark, Jew;--a learned judge!

SHYLOCK. I take this offer then,--pay the bond thrice,
And let the Christian go.

BASSANIO. Here is the money.

PORTIA. Soft;
The Jew shall have all justice;--soft;--no haste;--
He shall have nothing but the penalty.

GRATIANO. O Jew! An upright judge, a learned judge!

PORTIA. Therefore, prepare thee to cut off the flesh.
Shed thou no blood; nor cut thou less, nor more,
But just a pound of flesh: if thou tak'st more,
Or less, than a just pound,--be it but so much
As makes it light, or heavy, in the substance,
Or the division of the twentieth part
Of one poor scruple,--nay, if the scale do turn
But in the estimation of a hair,--
Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate.

GRATIANO. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew!
Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip.

PORTIA. Why doth the Jew pause? Take thy forfeiture.

SHYLOCK. Give me my principal, and let me go.

BASSANIO. I have it ready for thee; here it is.

PORTIA. He hath refus'd it in the open court;
He shall have merely justice, and his bond.

GRATIANO. A Daniel, still say I; a second Daniel!
I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.

SHYLOCK. Shall I not have barely my principal?

PORTIA. Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture,
To be so taken at thy peril, Jew."

So, seeing himself beaten on all points, the Jew would leave the
court. But not yet is he allowed to go. Not until he has been
fined for attempting to take the life of a Venetian citizen, not
until he is humiliated, and so heaped with disgrace and insult
that we are sorry for him, is he allowed to creep away.

The learned lawyer is loaded with thanks, and Bassanio wishes to
pay him nobly for his pains. But he will take nothing; nothing,
that is, but the ring which glitters on Bassanio's finger. That
Bassanio cannot give--it is his wife's present and he has
promised never to part with it. At that the lawyer pretends
anger. "I see, sir," he says:--

"You are liberal in offers:
You taught me first to beg; and now, methinks,
You teach me how a beggar should be answered."

Hardly have they parted than Bassanio repents his seemingly
churlish action. Has not this young man saved his friend from
death, and himself from disgrace? Portia will surely understand
that his request could not be refused, and so he sends Gratiano
after him with the ring. Gratiano gives the ring to the lawyer,
and the seeming clerk begs Gratiano for his ring, which he,
following his friend's example, gives.

In the last act of the play all the friends are gathered again at
Belmont. After some merry teasing upon the subject of the rings
the truth is told, and Bassanio and Gratiano learn that the
skillful lawyer and his clerk were none other than their young
and clever wives.

BOOKS TO READ

Among the best books of Shakespeare's stories are: Stories from
Shakespeare, by Jeanie Lang. The Shakespeare Story-Book, by Mary
M'Leod. Tales from Shakespeare (Everyman's Library), by C. and
M. Lamb.

LIST OF SHAKESPEARE'S PLAYS

Histories. - Henry VI (three parts); Richard III; Richard II;
King John; Henry IV (two parts); Henry V; Henry VIII (doubtful if
Shakespeare's).

Tragedies. - Titus Andronicus; Romeo and Juliet; Julius Caesar;
Hamlet; King Lear; Macbeth; Timon of Athens; Antony and
Cleopatra; Coriolanus.

Comedies. - Love's Labour's Lost; Two Gentlemen of Verona; Comedy
of Errors; Merchant of Venice; Taming of the Shrew; A Midsummer
Night's Dream; All's Well that Ends Well; Merry Wives of Windsor;
Much Ado About Nothing; As You Like It; Twelfth Night; Troilus
and Cressida; Measure for Measure; Pericles; Cymbeline; The
Tempest; A Winter's Tale.

Chapter XLVIII JONSON--"EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMOUR"

OF all the dramatists who were Shakespeare's friends, of those
who wrote before him, with him, and just after him, we have
little room to tell. But there is one who stands almost as far
above them all as Shakespeare stands above him. This is Ben
Jonson, and of him we must speak.

Ben Jonson's life began in poverty, his father dying before he
was born, and leaving his widow poorly provided for. When Ben
was about two years old his mother married again, and this second
husband was a bricklayer. Ben, however, tells us that his own
father was a gentleman, belonging to a good old Scottish Border
family, and that he had lost all his estates in the reign of
Queen Mary. But about the truth of this we do not know, for Ben
was a bragger and a swaggerer. He may not have belonged to this
Scottish family, and he may have had no estates to lose. Ben
first went to a little school at St. Martin's-in-the-fields in
London. There, somehow, the second master of Westminster School
came to know of him, became his friend, and took him to
Westminster, where he paid for his schooling. But when Ben left
school he had to earn a living in some way, so he became a
bricklayer like his step-father, when "having a trowell in his
hand he had a book in his pocket."*

*Fuller.

He did not long remain a bricklayer, however, for he could not
endure the life, and next we find him a soldier in the
Netherlands. We know very little of what he did as a soldier,
and soon he was home again in England. Here he married. His
wife was a good woman, but with a sharp tongue, and the marriage
does not seem to have been very happy. And although they had
several children, all of them died young.

And now, like Shakespeare, Jonson became an actor. Like
Shakespeare too, he wrote plays. His first play is that by which
he is best known, called Every Man in His Humour. By a man's
humor, Jonson means his chief characteristic, one man, for
instance, showing himself jealous, another boastful, and so on.

It will be a long time before you will care to read Every Man in
His Humour, for there is a great deal in it that you would
neither understand nor like. It is a play of the manners and
customs of Elizabethan times which are so unlike ours that we
have little sympathy with them. And that is the difference
between Ben Jonson and Shakespeare. Shakespeare, although he
wrote of his own time, wrote for all time; Jonson wrote of his
own time for his own time. Yet, in Every Man in His Humour there
is at least one character worthy to live beside Shakespeare's,
and that is the blustering, boastful Captain Bobadill. He talks
very grandly, but when it comes to fighting, he thinks it best to
run away and live to fight another day. If only to know Captain
Bobadill it will repay you to read Every Man in His Humour when
you grow up.

Here is a scene in which he shows his "humor" delightfully:--

"BOBADILL. I am a gentleman, and live here obscure, and to
myself. But were I known to Her Majesty and the Lords-- observe
me--I would undertake, upon this poor head and life, for the
public benefit of the State, not only to spare the entire lives of
her subjects in general, but to save the one half, nay, three
parts, of her yearly charge in holding war, and against what enemy
soever. And how would I do it, think you?

EDWARD KNOWELL. Nay, I know not, nor can I conceive.

BOBADILL. Why thus, sir. I would select nineteen more, to
myself, throughout the land. Gentlemen, they should be of good
spirit, strong and able constitution. I would choose them by an
instinct, a character that I have. And I would teach these
nineteen the special rules, as your punto,* your reverso, your
stoccata, your imbroccata, your passada, your montanto; till they
could all play very near, or altogether, as well as myself. This
done, say the enemy were forty thousand strong, we twenty would
come into the field the tenth of March, or thereabouts, and we
would challenge twenty of the enemy. They could not in their
honour refuse us. Well, we would kill them. Challenge twenty more,
kill them; twenty more, kill them; twenty more, kill them too. And
thus would we kill every man his twenty a day. That's twenty
score. Twenty score, that's two hundred. Two hundred a day, five
days a thousand. Forty thousand; forty times five, five times
forty; two hundred days kills them all up by computation. And this
will I venture by poor gentleman-like carcase to perform, provided
there be no treason practised upon us, by fair and discreet
manhood; that is, civilly by the sword.

EDWARD KNOWELL. Why! are you so sure of your hand, Captain, at
all times?

BOBADILL. Tut! never miss thrust, upon my reputation with you.

EDWARD KNOWELL. I would not stand in Downright's state then, an
you meet him, for the wealth of any one street in London."

*This and the following are names of various passes and
thrusts used in fencing. Punto is a direct hit, reverso a
backward blow, and so on.

(Knowell says this because Bobadill and Downright have had a
quarrel, and Downright wishes to fight the Captain.)

"BOBADILL. Why, sir, you mistake me. If he were here now, by
this welkin, I would not draw my weapon on him. Let this gentleman
do his mind; but I will bastinado him, by the bright sun, wherever
I meet him.

MATTHEW. Faith, and I'll have a fling at him, at my distance.

EDWARD KNOWELL. Ods so, look where he is! yonder he goes.
[DOWNRIGHT crosses the stage.

DOWNRIGHT. What peevish luck have I, I cannot meet with these
bragging rascals?

BOBADILL. It is not he, is it?

EDWARD KNOWELL. Yes, faith, it is he.

MATTHEW. I'll be hanged then if that were he.

EDWARD KNOWELL. Sir, keep your hanging good for some greater
matter, for I assure you that was he.

STEPHEN. Upon my reputation, it was he.

BOBADILL. Had I thought it had been he, he must not have gone
so. But I can hardly be induced to believe it was he yet.

EDWARD KNOWELL. That I think, sir-- [Re-enter DOWNRIGHT.
But see, he is come again.

DOWNRIGHT. O, Pharaoh's foot, have I found you? Come, draw, to
your tools. Draw, gipsy, or I'll thrash you.

BOBADILL. Gentlemen of valour, I do believe in thee. Hear me--

DOWNRIGHT. Draw your weapon then.

BOBADILL. Tall man, I never thought on it till now-- Body of
me, I had a warrant of the peace served on me, even now as I
came along, by a water-bearer. This gentleman saw it, Master
Matthew.

DOWNRIGHT. 'Sdeath! you will not draw!
[DOWNRIGHT disarms BOBADILL and beats him.

MATTHEW runs away.
BOBADILL. Hold! hold! under thy favour forbear.

DOWNRIGHT. Prate again, as you like this, you foist* you. Your
consort is gone. Had he staid he had shared with you, sir.
[Exit DOWNRIGHT.

BOBADILL. Well, gentlemen, bear witness, I was bound to the
peace, by this good day.

EDWARD KNOWELL. No, fait, it's an ill day, Captain, never reckon
it other. But, say you were bound to the peace, the law allows you
to defend yourself. That will prove but a poor excuse.

BOBADILL. I cannot tell, sir. I desire good construction in fair
sort. I never sustained the like disgrace, by heaven! Sure I was
struck with a planet thence, for I had no power to touch my
weapon.

EDWARD KNOWELL. Ay, like enough, I have heard of many that have
been beaten under a planet. Go, get you to a surgeon! 'Slid! and
these be your tricks, your passadoes, and your montantos, I'll
none of them."

*Fraud.

When Every Man in His Humour was acted, Shakespeare took a part
in it. He and Jonson must have met each other often, must have
known each other well. At the Mermaid Tavern all the wits used
to gather. For there was a kind of club founded by Sir Walter
Raleigh, and here the clever men of the day met to smoke and
talk, and drink not a little. And among all the clever men
Jonson soon came to be acknowledged as the king and leader. We
have a pleasant picture of these friendly meetings by a man who
lived then. "Many were the wit-combats," he says, "betwixt
Shakespeare and Ben Jonson, which two I behold like a Spanish
great gallion and an English Man of War: Master Jonson (like the
former) was built far higher in learning; solid, but slow in his
performances. Shakespeare, with the English Man of War, lesser
in bulk but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack
about, and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his
wit and invention."*

*Thomas Fuller, Worthies.

Another writer says in a letter to Ben,

"What things have we seen,
Done at the Mermaid! heard words that have been
So nimble, and so full of subtile flame
As if that every one from whence they came
Had meant to pit his whole wit in a jest."*

*F. Beaumont, Letter to Ben Jonson.

And so we get a picture of Ben lording it in taverns. A great
good fellow, a stout fellow, he rolls his huge bulk about laying
down the law.

So the years went on. Big Ben wrote and fought, quarreled and
made friends, drank and talked, living always on the verge of
poverty. At length, in 1603, the great Queen Elizabeth died, and
James of Scotland came to the English throne. All the way as he
journeyed he was greeted with rejoicing. There were everywhere
plays and feasts given in his honor, and soon after he arrived in
London a Masque written by Jonson was played before him. The new
king was fond of such entertainments. He smiled upon Master Ben
Jonson, and life became for him easier and brighter.