Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge,
The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio.—
What, Jessica!—Thou shalt not gormandize
As thou hast done with me;—What, Jessica!—
And sleep, and snore, and rend apparel out.
Why, Jessica, I say!
Well, you shall see, your eyes shall be your judge, The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio.— What, Jessica!—you shall not gormandize As you hast done with me;—What, Jessica!— And sleep, and snore, and rend apparel out. Why, Jessica, I say!
Well, you shall see, your eyes shall be your judge, The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio.— What, Jessica!—you shall not gormandize As you hast done with me;—What, Jessica!— And sleep, and snore, and rend apparel out. Why, Jessica, I say!
Well, you shall see, your eyes shall be your judge, The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio — What, Jessica —you shall not gormandize As you hast done with me;—What, Jessica — And sleep, and snore, and rend apparel out Why, Jessica, I say
Why, Jessica!
Why, Jessica!
Why, Jessica!
Why, Jessica
Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call.
Who bids you call? I do not bid you call.
Who bids you call? I do not bid you call.
Who bids you call I do not bid you call
Your worship was wont to tell me I could do nothing without bidding.
Your worship was wont to tell me I could do nothing without bidding.
Your worship was wont to tell me I could do nothing without bidding.
Your worship was wont to tell me I could do nothing without bidding
Call you? What is your will?
Call you? What is your will?
Call you? What is your will?
Call you What is your will
I am bid forth to supper, Jessica.
There are my keys. But wherefore should I go?
I am not bid for love, they flatter me.
But yet I’ll go in hate, to feed upon
The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl,
Look to my house. I am right loath to go;
There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest,
For I did dream of money-bags tonight.
I am bid forth to supper, Jessica. There are my keys. But wherefore should I go? I am not bid for love, they flatter me. But yet I’ll go in hate, to feed upon The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl, Look to my house. I am right loath to go; There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest, For I did dream of money-bags tonight.
I am bid forth to supper, Jessica. There are my keys. But wherefore should I go? I am not bid for love, they flatter me. But yet I’ll go in hate, to feed upon The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl, Look to my house. I am right loath to go; There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest, For I did dream of money-bags tonight.
I am bid forth to supper, Jessica There are my keys But wherefore should I go I am not bid for love, they flatter me But yet I’ll go in hate, to feed upon The prodigal Christian Jessica, my girl, Look to my house
I beseech you, sir, go. My young master doth expect your reproach.
I beseech you, sir, go. My young master does expect your reproach.
I beseech you, sir, go. My young master does expect your reproach.
I beseech you, sir, go My young master does expect your reproach
So do I his.
So do I his.
So do I his.
So do I his
This scene is the only one in the play where we see Shylock in something like domestic life. He is irritable, distracted, and genuinely suspicious — but he is also a man who has real anxiety about his home, his daughter, and his possessions. His reluctance to go to dinner isn't paranoia: he correctly senses something is wrong. His instruction to Jessica ('Look to my house') is the behaviour of a man who genuinely cares about what he's built. The dream of money-bags is a warning he ignores because the social pressure to attend is greater than his better instincts. This is not a monster leaving his lair — it's a man with ordinary human vulnerabilities, on the worst night of his life, walking out the door.
And they have conspired together. I will not say you shall see a
masque, but if you do, then it was not for nothing that my nose fell
a-bleeding on Black Monday last at six o’clock i’ th’ morning, falling
out that year on Ash-Wednesday was four year in th’ afternoon.
And they have conspired together. I will not say you shall see a masque, but if you do, then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a-bleeding on Black Monday last at six o’clock i’ th’ morning, falling out that year on Ash-Wednesday was four year in th’ afternoon.
And they have conspired together. I will not say you shall see a masque, but if you do, then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a-bleeding on Black Monday last at six o’clock i’ th’ morning, falling out that year on Ash-Wednesday was four year in th’ afternoon.
And they have conspired together I will not say you shall see a masque, but if you do, then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a-bleeding on Black Monday last at six o’clock i’ th’ morning, falling out that year on Ash-Wednesday was four year in th’ afternoon
What, are there masques? Hear you me, Jessica,
Lock up my doors, and when you hear the drum
And the vile squealing of the wry-neck’d fife,
Clamber not you up to the casements then,
Nor thrust your head into the public street
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish’d faces,
But stop my house’s ears, I mean my casements.
Let not the sound of shallow fopp’ry enter
My sober house. By Jacob’s staff I swear
I have no mind of feasting forth tonight.
But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah.
Say I will come.
What, are there masques? Hear you me, Jessica, Lock up my doors, and when you hear the drum And the vile squealing of the wry-neck’d fife, Clamber not you up to the casements then, Nor thrust your head into the public street To gaze on Christian fools with varnish’d faces, But stop my house’s ears, I mean my casements. Let not the sound of shallow fopp’ry enter My sober house. By Jacob’s staff I swear I have no mind of feasting forth tonight. But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah. Say I will come.
What, are there masques? Hear you me, Jessica, Lock up my doors, and when you hear the drum And the vile squealing of the wry-neck’d fife, Clamber not you up to the casements then, Nor thrust your head into the public street To gaze on Christian fools with varnish’d faces, But stop my house’s ears, I mean my casements. Let not the sound of shallow fopp’ry enter My sober house. By Jacob’s staff I swear I have no mind of feasting forth tonight. But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah. Say I will come.
What, are there masques Hear you me, Jessica, Lock up my doors, and when you hear the drum And the vile squealing of the wry-neck’d fife, Clamber not you up to the casements then, Nor thrust your head into the public street To gaze on Christian fools with varnish’d faces, But stop my house’s ears, I mean my casements Let not the sound of shallow fopp’ry enter My sober house By Jacob’s staff I swear I have no mind of feasting forth tonight But I will go Go you before me, sirrah
I will go before, sir.
Mistress, look out at window for all this.
There will come a Christian by
Will be worth a Jewess’ eye.
I will go before, sir. Mistress, look out at window for all this. There will come a Christian by Will be worth a Jewess’ I.
I will go before, sir. Mistress, look out at window for all this. There will come a Christian by Will be worth a Jewess’ I.
I will go before, sir Mistress, look out at window for all this There will come a Christian by Will be worth a Jewess’ I
What says that fool of Hagar’s offspring, ha?
What says that fool of Hagar’s offspring, ha?
What says that fool of Hagar’s offspring, ha?
What says that fool of Hagar’s offspring, ha
His words were “Farewell, mistress,” nothing else.
His words were “Farewell, mistress,” nothing else.
His words were “Farewell, mistress,” nothing else.
His words were “Farewell, mistress,” nothing else
The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder,
Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day
More than the wild-cat. Drones hive not with me,
Therefore I part with him, and part with him
To one that I would have him help to waste
His borrowed purse. Well, Jessica, go in.
Perhaps I will return immediately:
Do as I bid you, shut doors after you,
“Fast bind, fast find.”
A proverb never stale in thrifty mind.
The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder, Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day More than the wild-cat. Drones hive not with me, Therefore I part with him, and part with him To one that I would have him help to waste His borrowed purse. Well, Jessica, go in. Perhaps I will return immediately: Do as I bid you, shut doors after you, “Fast bind, fast find.” A proverb never stale in thrifty mind.
The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder, Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day More than the wild-cat. Drones hive not with me, Therefore I part with him, and part with him To one that I would have him help to waste His borrowed purse. Well, Jessica, go in. Perhaps I will return immediately: Do as I bid you, shut doors after you, “Fast bind, fast find.” A proverb never stale in thrifty mind.
The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder, Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day More than the wild-cat Drones hive not with me, Therefore I part with him, and part with him To one that I would have him help to waste His borrowed purse Well, Jessica, go in Perhaps I will return immediately: Do as I bid you, shut doors after you, “Fast bind, fast find ” A proverb never stale in thrifty mind
Farewell, and if my fortune be not crost,
I have a father, you a daughter, lost.
Farewell, and if my fortune be not crost, I have a father, you a daughter, lost.
Farewell, and if my fortune be not crost, I have a father, you a daughter, lost.
Farewell, and if my fortune be not crost, I have a father, you a daughter, lost
The Reckoning
The most complicated scene in the play's comic first half — Shylock is genuinely unpleasant here (dismissive, suspicious, obsessed with his house and money), but he is also, unbeknownst to him, in the last moments before his life collapses. His instruction to Jessica to lock up is immediately subverted by Launcelet's whisper. His confidence in his 'merry bond' will have teeth by the end of the night. Jessica's final couplet — 'I have a father, you a daughter, lost' — is perhaps the most devastating two lines in the early acts.
If this happened today…
A hedge fund manager tells his daughter he's going to a dinner he finds distasteful — his competitor's event — and before leaving reminds her to double-lock the apartment, set the alarm, ignore the noise from the party upstairs. He gives her the house keys. His soon-to-be-ex employee is carrying his coat and when the manager turns away mouths to the daughter: 'Look out the window later.' The manager leaves. The daughter stands in the apartment looking at the keys. Then she starts packing.