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A breed of barren metal of his friend?) (7)
But lend it rather to thine enemy;
Who, if he break, thou may'st with better face
Exact the penalty.

Shy. Why, how you storm?
I would be friends with you, and have your love;
Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with;
Supply your present wants, and take no doit
Of usance for my monies, and you'll not hear me:
This is kind I offer.

Anth. This were kindness.

Shy. This kindness will I show ;
Go with me to a Notary, seal me there
Your single bond; and, in a merry sport,

you repay me not on such a day,
In such a place, such sum, or sums, as are
Express’d in the condition, let the forfeit
Be nominated for an equal pound

your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken
In what part of your body it shall please me.

Anth. Content, in faith ; I'll seal to such a bond, And say, there is much kindness in the Jew.

Bal You shall not seal to such a bond for me, I'll rather dwell in my necessity.

Anth. Why, fear not, man; I will not forfeit it; Within these two months (that's a month before This bond expires) I do expect return Of thrice three times the value of this bond.

(7) A breed of barren Metal] Meaning, Mony at Usury, Mony that breeds more, as Mr. Pape explains it. Consonant to this Phrase, the Latines explain'd Interest thus; Fænus, fötum accepti : and the Greeks callid it tóxos: both which Expressions take in our Poet

Idea of a Breed. See Non. Marcellus in v. fænus, & mutuum : and Gronovius de Seftertiis. As for the Contradiction betwixt Breed, and barren, it is a poetical Beauty in which Claudian, among the Classics, particularly abounds. Besides, in this Epithet, perhaps, (as Mr. Warburton ingeniously hinted to me,) our Author would shew us the Reason on which the Advocates against Ufury went; and which is the only one they use : That Metal is a barren thing ; and cannot, like Corn and Cattle, multiply itself: and therefore it is unjust, that Interest should be taken for it: for the most fuperftitious in this Regard allow the taking Interest for Fruits, Corn, Cattle, &c. Vol. II.



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Shy. O father Abraham, what these christians are!
Whose own hard dealings teach them to suspect
The thoughts of others ! pray you, tell me this,
If he should break his day, what should I gain
By the exaction of the forfeiture?
A pound of man's flesh, taken from a man,
Is not so estimable or profitable,
As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say,
To buy his favour, I extend this friendship;
If he will take it, so; if not, adieu ;
And for my love, I pray you, wrong me not.

Anth. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond.

Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the Notary's.
Give him direction for this merry bond,
And I will go and purse the ducats strait;
See to my house, left in the fearful guard
Of an unthrifty knave, and presently
I'll be with you.

Anth. Hie thee, gentle Jew.
This Hebrew will turn christian; he grows kind.

Bal. I like not fair terms, and a villain's mind.

Anth. Come on, in this there can be no dismay; My ships come home a month before the day. [Exeunt.


Enter Morochius, a Tawny-Moor, all in white ; and three or four. Followers accordingly; with Portia,

Nerissa, and her train. Flo. Cornets.

ISLIKE me not for my complection,
The shadow'd livery of the burnish’d sun,

To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred.
Bring me the fairest creature northward born,



Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the isicles,
And let us make incision for your love,
To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine.
I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine
Hath fear'd the valiant; by my love, I swear,
The best regarded virgins of our clime
Have lov'd it too: I would not change this hue,
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle Queen.
Por. 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 chusing.
But if my father had not scanted me,
And hedgʻd me by his wit to yield my felf
His wife, who wins me by that means I told you i
Your self, renowned Prince, then stood as fair,
As any comer I have look'd on yet,
For my affection.

Mor. Ev’n for that I thank you ;
Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets
To try my fortune. By this scimitar,
That flew the Sophy and a Persian Prince,
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,
I would out-stare the sterneft eyes that look,
Out-brave the heart most daring on the earth,
Pluck the young fucking cubs from the she-beat
Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey,
To win thee, lady. But, alas the while!
If Hercules and Lichas play at dice
Which is the better man, the greater throw
May turn by fortune from the weaker hand:
So is Alcides beaten by his page; (8)
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(8) So is Alcides beaten by his Rage.] Tho' the whole Set of Editions concur in this Reading, and it pass'd wholly unsuspected by the late Learned Editor ; I am very well assur'd, and, I dare say, the Readers will be fo too presently, that it is corrupt at Bottom. Let us look into the Poet's Drift, and the History of the Persons mention'd in the Context. If Hercules (says he) and Lichas were to play at Dice for the Decifion of their Superiority, Lichas, the weaker Man, might have the better Caft of the Two. But how then is Alcides beaten by his rage ? Toadmit

And so may I, blind fortune leading me,
Miss that, which one unworthier may attain ;
And die with grieving.

Por. You must take your chance,
And either not attempt to chuse at all,
Or swear, before you chuse, if you chuse wrong,
Never to speak to lady afterward
In way of marriage; therefore, be advis’d.

Mor. Nor will not; therefore, bring me to my chance.

Por. First, forward to the temple; after dinner
Your hazard shall be made.
Mor. Good fortune then !

[Cornets. To make me bleft, or cursed'st among men. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to Venice.

Enter Launcelot alone.
Laun. Certainly my conscience will serve me



this, we must suppose a Gap in the Poet ; and that some Lines are lost, in which Hercules, in his Pallion for losing the Hand, had thrown the Box and Dice away, and knock'd his own head against the Wall for meer Madness. Thus, indeed, might he be faid, in some Sense, to be beaten by his Rage. But Shakespeare had no such stuff in his head. He means no more, than, if Lichas had the better Throw, so might Hercules himself be beaten by Lichas. And who was He, but a poor unfortunate Servant of Hercules, that unknowingly brought his Maiter the envenom'd Shirt, dipt in the Blood of the Centaur Neslus, and was thrown headlong into the Sea for his Pains ? This one Circumftance of Lichas's Quality known fufficiently afcertains the Emendation I have substituted, of page initead of rage. It is scarce requisite to hint here, it is a Point so well known, that Page has been always us’d in English to fignify any Boy-Servant : as well as what latter Times have appropriated it to, a Lady's Trainbearer. And, consonant to our extended Usage of the Word, the French call a Shipboy, un Page

du Navire. So much in Explanation of this new adopted Reading. The very excellent Lord LANS DOWN E, in his Alteration of this Play, tho' he might not stand to make the Correction upon the Poet, seems at leatt to have understood the Passage exactly as I do: and tho he changes the Verse, retains the Sense of it in this manner:

Sa were a Giant worsted by a Dwarf! Tho I had made the Emendation, before I thought to look into his Lordship's Performance; it is no small satisfaction to me, that I have the Authority of such a Genius to back my Conjecture. Mr. Pope, in his last Edition, has thought fit to embrace my Reading

is at mine elbow, and tempts me, saying to me, Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot, or good Gobbo, or good Launcelot Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away. My conscience says, no; take heed, honest Launcelot ; take heed, honest Gobbo; or, as aforesaid, honeft Launcelot Gobbo, do not run; scorn running with thy heels. Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack; via! says the fiend; away! says the fiend; for the heav'ns rouse up a brave mind, says the fiend, and run. Well, my conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, says very wisely to me, my honest friend Launcelot, being an honest man's son, or rather an honest woman's son (for, indeed, my father did something smack, something grow to; hę had a kind of taste.) - well, my conscience says, budge not; budge, says the fiend; budge not, says my conscience; conscience, say I, you counsel ill ; fiend, say I, you counsel ill. To be ruld by my conscience, I should stay with the Jew my master, who, God bless the mark, is a kind of devil; and to run away from the few, I should be ruled by the fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the devil himself. Certainly, the Jew is the very devil incarnal ; and in my conscience, my conscience is but a kind of hard conscience, to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The fiend gives the more friendly counsel; I will run, fiend, my heels are at your commandment, I will run.

Enter old Gobbo, with a basket. Gob. Mafter young man, you, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew's?

Laun. O heav'ns, this is my true begotten father, who being more than sand-blind, high gravel-blind, knows me not; I will try confusions with him.

Gob. Master young Gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew's? Laun. Turn up, on your right-hand (9) at the next

turning, (9) Turn up, on your right hand — ] This arch and perplex'd Direction, on purpose to puzzle the Enquirer, seems to be copied from Syrus to

uti Demea, in the Brothers of Terence : Act. 4. Sc. 2.

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