The Merchant of Venice
William Shakespeare
- 96 pages
- English
- ePUB (mobile friendly)
- Available on iOS & Android
The Merchant of Venice
William Shakespeare
About This Book
The Merchant of Venice is an intriguing drama of love, greed, and revenge. At its heart, the play contrasts the characters of the maddened and vengeful Shylock, a Venetian moneylender, with the gracious, level-headed Portia, a wealthy young woman besieged by suitors. At the play's climax, Shylock insists on the enforcement of a binding contract that will cost the life of the merchant Antonio — inciting Portia to mount a memorable defense.
In this richly plotted drama, Shylock, whom Shakespeare endowed with all of the depth and vitality of his greatest characters, is not alone in his villainy. In scene after scene, a large cast of ambitious and scheming characters demonstrates that honesty is a quality often strained where matters of love and money are concerned.
The gravity and suspense of the play's central plot, together with its romance, have made The Merchant of Venice a favorite of audiences, and one of the most studied and performed of Shakespeare's plays. It is reprinted here from an authoritative text, complete with explanatory footnotes.
Frequently asked questions
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ACTV.
SCENE I. Belmont. Avenue to PORTIAâS house.
And they did make no noise, in such a night
Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls,
And sighed his soul toward the Grecian tents,
Where Cressid lay that night.
And saw the lionâs shadow ere himself,
And ran dismayâd away.
Upon the wild sea banks, and waft her love
To come again to Carthage.
That did renew old Ăson,91
And with an unthrift love did run from Venice
As far as Belmont.
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith
And neâer a true one.
Slander her love, and he forgave it her.
STEPH. A friend.
LOR. A friend! what friend? your name, I pray you, friend?
STEPH. Stephano is my name; and I bring word
Be here at Belmont: she doth stray about
By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays
For happy wedlock hours.
STEPH. None but a holy hermit and her maid.
And ceremoniously let us prepare
Some welcome for the mistress of the house.
LOR. Who calls?
LAUN. Sola! did you see Master Lorenzo? Master Lorenzo, sola, sola!
LOR. Leave hollaing, man: here.
LAUN. Sola! where? where?
LOR. Here.
My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you,
Within the house, your mistress is at hand;
And bring your music forth into the air.
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 âs not the smallest orb which thou beholdâst
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring92 to the young-eyed cherubins;
Such harmony is in immortal souls;
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
With sweetest touches pierce your mistressâ ear,
And draw her home with music.
LOR. The reason is, your spirits are attentive:
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,
Which is the hot condition of their blood;
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,
Or any air of music touch their ears,
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,
Their savage eyes turnâd to a modest gaze
By the sweet power of music: therefore the poet
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods;
Since nought 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:93
Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music.
So shines a good deed in a naught...