The Merchant of Venice (OCR GCSE English Literature): Exam Questions

SHYLOCK 

Signior Antonio, many a time and oft 

In the Rialto you have rated me 

About my monies and my usances. 

Still have I borne it with a patient shrug 

For suff’rance is the badge of all our tribe. 

You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, 

And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, 

And all for use of that which is mine own. 

Well then, it now appears you need my help. 

Go to, then, you come to me, and you say, 

‘Shylock, we would have monies’ – you say so, 

You that did void your rheum upon my beard, 

And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur 

Over your threshold: monies is your suit. 

What should I say to you? Should I not say 

‘Hath a dog money? Is it possible 

A cur can lend three thousand ducats?’ Or 

Shall I bend low, and in a bondman’s key, 

With bated breath and whisp’ring humbleness, 

Say this: 'Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last, 

You spurned me such a day, another time 

You called me dog: and for these courtesies 

I'll lend you thus much monies.’ 

PORTIA 

They shall, Nerissa, but in such a habit 

That they shall think we are accomplishèd 

With that we lack. I’ll hold thee any wager, 

When we are both accoutred like young men

I’ll prove the prettier fellow of the two, 

And wear my dagger with the braver grace, 

And speak between the change of man and boy 

With a reed voice, and turn two mincing steps

Into a manly stride; and speak of ’frays

Like a fine bragging youth; and tell quaint lies 

How honourable ladies sought my love, 

Which I denying, they fell sick and died – 

I could not do withal. Then I’ll repent, 

And wish for all that, that I had not killed them;

And twenty of these puny lies I’ll tell, 

That men shall swear I have discontinued school 

Above a twelvemonth. I have within my mind 

A thousand raw tricks of these bragging jacks, 

Which I will practise. 

BASSANIO 

In Belmont is a lady richly left, 

And she is fair, and – fairer than that word – 

Of wondrous virtues. Sometimes from her eyes 

I did receive fair speechless messages. 

Her name is Portia, nothing undervalued 

To Cato’s daughter, Brutus’ Portia. 

Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth; 

For the four winds blow in from every coast 

Renownèd suitors, and her sunny locks 

Hang on her temples like a golden fleece, 

Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos’ strand, 

And many Jasons come in quest of her. 

O my Antonio, had I but the means 

To hold a rival place with one of them, 

I have a mind presages me such thrift 

That I should questionless be fortunate.

PORTIA 

The quality of mercy is not strained, 

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 

Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest: 

It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes. 

’Tis mightiest in the mightiest, it becomes 

The thronèd monarch better than his crown. 

His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 

The attribute to awe and majesty, 

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; 

But mercy is above this sceptred sway. 

It is enthronèd in the hearts of kings, 

It is an attribute to God himself, 

And earthly power doth then show likest God’s 

When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 

Though justice be thy plea, consider this: 

That in the course of justice, none of us 

Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy, 

And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 

The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much 

To mitigate the justice of thy plea, 

Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice 

Must needs give sentence ’gainst the merchant there.