DUKE OF VENICE
PRINCE OF MOROCCO, PRINCE OF ARRAGON – suitors to PORTIA
ANTONIO – the merchant of Venice
BASSANIO – his friend
SOLANIO, SALARINO, GRATIANO – friends to ANTONIO and BASSANIO
LORENZO – in love with JESSICA
SHYLOCK – a Jew
TUBAL – a Jew, his friend
LAUNCELOT GOBBO – a clown, servant to SHYLOCK
OLD GOBBO – father to LAUNCELOT
SALERIO – a messenger from Venice
LEONARDO – servant to BASSANIO
BALTHAZAR, STEPHANO – servants to PORTIA
PORTIA – a rich heiress
NERISSA – her waiting-maid
JESSICA – daughter to SHYLOCK
Magnificoes of Venice, officers of the Court of Justice, gaoler, servants, and other attendants
PLAY
Partly in Venice; and partly in Belmont, the seat of Portia, on the Continent.
ACT I
Scene i: Venice. A street.
Scene ii: Belmont. A room in Portia’s house.
Scene iii: Venice. A public place.
ACT II
Scene i: Belmont. A room in Portia’s house.
Scene ii: Venice. A street.
Scene iii: The same. A room in Shylock’s house.
Scene iv: The same. A house.
Scene v: The same. Before Shylock’s house.
Scene vi: The same.
Scene vii: Belmont. A room in Portia’s house.
Scene viii: Venice. A street.
Scene ix: Belmont. A room in Portia’s house.
ACT III
Scene i: Venice. A street.
Scene ii: Belmont. A room in Portia’s house.
Scene iii: Venice. A street.
Scene iv: Belmont. A room in Portia’s house.
Scene v: The same. A garden.
ACT IV
Scene i: Venice. A court of justice.
Scene ii: The same. A street.
ACT V
Scene i: Belmont. Pleasure grounds of Portia’s house.
Act II: Scene ii
LAUNCELOT GOBBO: Certainly my conscience will serve me to run from this Jew, my master. The fiend is at my 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 Laauncelot; take heed, honest Gobbo: or as foresaid, honest 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 heavens; 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 to grow to, he had a kind of taste; – well, my conscience says, Launcelot, budge not. Budge, says the fiend. Budge not, says my conscience. Conscience, says I, you counsel well; fiend, says I, you counsel well: to be ruled by my conscience, I should stay with the Jew, my master, who is a kind of devil; and, to run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the devil himself. Certainly the Jew is the very devil incarnation: 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 more friendly counsel: I will run, fiend; my heels are at your commandment; I will run.
