mistake!
Demetrius and Lysander became so enraged with jealousy that they challenged each other to fight, but here Puck interfered again to good effect. He contrived so to baffle and mislead them that, instead of meeting, they did nothing but chase each other about in the darkness. At last, quite wearied out, Lysander sank down to rest, while the faithful Hermia took up her place near him. Then Puck applied the love-juice again to Lysander’s eyes, and this time when he woke his glance fell first on Hermia, so at last all went well. His affection was restored to her, and as Demetrius was already in love again with Helena, both sets of lovers could be happy.
In the meanwhile, King Oberon began to pity his beautiful Queen, for he could not bear to see her doating on such a hideous monster. Titania, in the height of her new folly, had willingly yielded up the little changeling, and now that Oberon had got possession of the boy he dissolved the spell without delay.
“Be as thou wast wont to be;
See as thou wast wont to see!”
he chanted. “Now, my Titania, wake, my sweet Queen!”
“My Oberon! What visions I have had!” said the Queen. “I thought I was in love with an ass.”
“There lies your love,” said the King, pointing to where Bottom still lay snoring.
“How came these things to pass? Oh, how I loathe his visage now!” exclaimed Titania, shrinking back in disgust.
Oberon next bade Puck remove the ass’s head from Bottom, so that when he awoke he should think that all that had happened was nothing but a dream, and then, to the sound of sweet music, the King and the Queen of the Fairies took flight, once more good friends.
Early the next morning, Theseus, Duke of Athens, with his promised bride, Hippolyta, went hunting in the wood, and there they came across the two pairs of lovers. Egeus, the father of Hermia, was with the Duke, but there was no need now to enforce the cruel law. Demetrius resigned all claim on Hermia, and declared that the only person he wished to marry was his first love, Helena. To these happy lovers it seemed now that everything that had passed was a dream.
“Are you sure that we are awake?” said Demetrius. “It seems to me that yet we sleep, we dream.”
But their happiness was no dream, and did not melt away with morning light. The wedding of Lysander and Hermia and of Demetrius and Helena took place at the same time as that of Duke Theseus and Hippolyta. Great were the festivities at Athens, and one of the most notable features of the evening’s entertainment was undoubtedly the play acted by Bottom and his valiant companions.
“A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus and his love Thisbe: very tragical mirth,” ran the title in the programme, and very mirthful tragedy most of the spectators found it.
The Merchant of Venice
A Merry Bond
Shunned, hated, despised, insulted, the Jews in the Middle Ages led a cruel and embittered existence among their Christian brethren. But beaten down and oppressed as they were in most of the countries of Europe, they still prospered as far as money matters were concerned, and, in spite of the demands continually levied on them, they contrived to amass large hoards of wealth. When the great nobles or merchant princes of those days got into difficulties, it was to the Jews they turned for help, and the enormous sums charged as interest for the loan enabled the Jews to fill their coffers rapidly.
Shylock was one of the richest Jews in Venice, although he lived in a wretched, penurious style, with only a clownish lad to act as servant. Shylock had one child, a pretty, flighty daughter called Jessica, whose nature was very different from her father’s. Jessica was gay, extravagant, without much heart, and with no respect or affection for her own race and kindred. She longed to free herself from the miserly restraint of her father’s house, and to join in the amusements from which his severity debarred her. Not only this, but she had become acquainted with a handsome young Venetian called Lorenzo. She had secretly promised to become his wife, and intended on the first opportunity to elope with Lorenzo and to give up the Jewish religion.
Shylock hated all Christians, which was scarcely to be wondered at, considering the way in which he had been treated, but the special object of his aversion was a certain wealthy merchant named Antonio. Shylock hated Antonio partly because, whenever they happened to meet, the merchant treated him with contemptuous scorn, but chiefly because Antonio lent out money gratis, and so brought down the rate of usury in Venice. Antonio had also, at different times, released poor people whom Shylock had imprisoned for debt, and often on the Rialto (which was the public place in Venice, where the merchants congregated) Antonio had railed against the grasping avarice of the Jewish extortioner.
Thus Antonio had wounded Shylock in the two most intense passions of his life – his pride of race (for in his own way Shylock was a strict follower of his religion) and his love of money. Shylock brooded over his wrongs, and if ever the opportunity came when he could gratify his ancient grudge, he resolved to be bitterly revenged.
He had long to wait, but at last his chance came.
Antonio had a friend called Bassanio, a gallant, high-spirited gentleman, but one whose open-handed, generous disposition made him spend more freely than his means allowed. Bassanio was in love with a beautiful lady called Portia, and had good reason for believing that he was looked on with an eye of favour. He would gladly have come forward in earnest as a suitor for her hand, but his somewhat extravagant mode of living had for the moment exhausted his means, and it was impossible for him to appear at Belmont, Portia’s house, in the style befitting a suitor.
Antonio, who was devoted to Bassanio, had often helped him before, and on this occasion Bassanio turned to him again. Antonio was more than ready to help, and placed all he possessed at Bassanio’s disposal. But, unfortunately, at that moment he could not lay his hand on a large sum of ready money, for all his fortune was on the high seas. However, he bade Bassanio go forth, and see what his credit could do in Venice; and he promised to become surety to the uttermost of his means, in order that Bassanio might be fittingly equipped on his quest to Belmont.
In his search for money Bassanio came across Shylock, one of the chief usurers in Venice, and to him he applied for a loan. Shylock did not at first appear very willing to grant his request.
“Three thousand ducats; – well?” he said in a pondering, deliberate fashion.
“Ay, sir, for three months,” said Bassanio.
“For three months; – well?”
“For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound.”
“Antonio shall become bound; – well?” echoed Shylock, still in the same slow voice.
“Can you help me? Will you oblige me? Shall I know your answer?” said Bassanio rather impatiently.
“Three thousand ducats – for three months – and Antonio bound,” murmured the Jew reflectively.
“Your answer to that?” demanded Bassanio.
“Antonio is a good man,” mused Shylock.
“Have you heard any imputation to the contrary?”
“Oh, no, no, no, no! My meaning in saying he is a good man is to have you understand me that he is sufficient. Yet his means are in supposition. He hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies. I understand, moreover, on the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England, and other ventures he hath, squandered abroad. But ships are but boards, sailors but men; there be land-rats and water-rats, land-thieves and water-thieves – I mean, pirates; and then there is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks. The man is, notwithstanding, sufficient. I think I may take his bond.”
“Be assured you may,” said Bassanio.
“I will be assured I may,” said Shylock, with a sudden snarl, “and that I will be assured, I will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio?”
“Here he comes,” said Bassanio; and at that moment Antonio joined them.
The merchant repeated the request that Bassanio