Portia

Portia is the heroine of William Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice. A rich, beautiful, very intelligent
heiress, she is bound by the lottery set forth in her father's will, which gives potential suitors the chance
to choose between three caskets composed of gold, silver and lead. If they choose the right casket the
casket containing Portia's portrait they win Portia's hand in marriage. If they choose the wrong casket,
they must leave and never seek another woman in marriage. Portia favours Bassanio, but is not allowed
to give him any clues to assist in his choice. Later in the play, she disguises herself as a man, then
assumes the role of a lawyer's apprentice whereby she saves the life of Bassanio's friend, Antonio, in
court. She disguises herself as Balthasar, a young doctor of law.

Portia is one of the most prominent of Shakespeare's heroines in his mature romantic comedies. She is
beautiful, gracious, rich, intelligent, quick witted and with high standards in men. She obeys her father's
will while having a determination to obtain Bassanio while being tactful to the Princes of Morocco and
Arragon who unsuccessfully seek her hand. In the court scenes, Portia finds a technicality in the bond,
thereby outwitting Shylock and saving Antonio's life when everyone else fails. Yet she also shows
immense injustice and cruelty towards the Job-like figure of Shylock and those who are sympathetic with
Shylock see her as the epitome of blunt, barbaric, Christian primitivism. It is Portia who delivers one of
the most famous speeches in The Merchant of Venice:
The quality of mercy is not strain'd.
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.

The strength of Portia as a role has made it attractive to many notable actresses. Frances Abington,
Sarah Siddons and Elizabeth Whitlock all played the role in the 18th century when actresses first started
appearing on stage. More recently, the role has been played in the cinema and on television by a
number of notable actresses such as Maggie Smith, Claire Bloom, Sybil Thorndike and Joan Plowright,
regardless of her ruthlessness.

Portia does not only have positive reviews of her nature. The famous Jewish writer Wolf Mankowitz
dubbed her a "cold, snobbish little bitch" in a video he made about anti-Semitism against Shylock the
moneylender[citation needed].

The whole concept of the 'rhetoric' is brought into light by Portia: The idea that an unjust argument may
win through eloquence, loopholes and technicalities, regardless of the moral question in hand.
When William Shakespeare wrote, The Merchant of Venice, he included a female character that
influences the play dramatically. In most of Shakespeare's plays, the women have little power and
intelligence. In The Merchant of Venice, however, Portia is a woman that saves the life of a man with her
wit and intelligence. Another woman created by Shakespeare that posses qualities similar to Portia is
Beatrice, from Much Ado about Nothing. Both women add to the main themes of the play because of
their ability to use their intelligence and witty remarks as well as having a loving heart. The women share
many similarities as well as many differences which seem to be inevitable because Portia seems to be
put on a pedestal that very few can reach. Portia is one of Shakespeare's great heroines, whose beauty,
lively intelligence, quick wit, and high moral seriousness have blossomed in a society of wealth and
freedom. She is known throughout the world for her beauty and virtue, and she is able to handle any
situation with her sharp wit. In many of Shakespeare's plays, he creates female characters that are
presented to be clearly inferior to men. The one female, Shakespearean character that is most like Portia
would be Beatrice, from Much Ado about Nothing. Both of the women are known for their wit and
intelligence. Beatrice is able to defend her views in any situation, as does Portia. Shakespeare gives each
of them a sense of power by giving their minds the ability to change words around, use multiple
meanings and answer wisely to the men surrounding them. By adding a loving heart to both of these
women, Shakespeare makes their intelligence more appealing. Even though Beatrice hides the loving
side of her character for most of the play, she still expresses her kindness and love in other ways. Like
Portia, she is a dear friend and an obedient daughter. In the fourth act, after Portia has saved the life of
Antonio, she uses her wit, just as Beatrice does to test Benedict's love, to convince Bassanio to surrender
the ring that he vowed he would never part with. After simply asking for it and being unsuccessful, she
decides to use her intelligence and says, I see sir, you are liberal in offers. / You taught me first to beg,
and now methinks / You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd (IV.ii.438-440). The only main
difference between the two women is the way they are perceived by the other characters. Portia is
thought of as a perfect angel possessing no flaws, which is shown when Bassanio describes her to
Antonio and says, In Belmont is a lady richly left, / And she is fair and, fairer than that word, / Of
wondrous virtues Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth, / For the four winds blow in from every
coast / Renowned suitors, and her sunny locks / Hang on her temples like a golden fleece, / Which makes
her seat of Belmont Colchis' strond, / And many Jasons come in quest of her (I.i.161-172). Portia displays
all the graces of the perfect Renaissance lady. She is not ambitious, she is quiet rather than restrictive.
She is modest in her self-estimation. Her generous spirit makes her wish she had more virtue, wealth,
and friends so that she can better help those she loves. Beatrice, on the other hand, is not described as
beautiful and even though she is well liked in her society, she is not thought of in the same godly way as
Portia is. Besides saving the life of Antonio, Portia is also used to convey the theme of deceptive
appearances. Throughout the play, Shakespeare uses his characters to show the audience that a person
cannot be judged by how they appear to the eye and that a person can truly be identified by their inner
soul. Bassanio chooses the lead casket and proves that even though the other caskets appeared to be
beautiful and trustworthy, the treasure was found in the casket of lead. Shakespeare foreshadows the
theme of appearances when Portia says to her new husband, You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand, /

Such as I am But the full sum of me / Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractic'd, / Happy in this, she
is not yet so old / But she may learn; happier than this, / She is not bred so dull but she can learn
(III.ii.149-164). After saying this to her husband, she later dresses up as a man and finds a way to release
Antonio from his bond with Shylock, when no one else is able to. She proves to the audience and to her
friends that even though she might have been perceived as an unlesson'd, unschool'd, unpractic'd girl,
her inner self, posses the strength, intelligence and experience that enables her to do what she did.
When Shakespeare created Portia's character, he contributed the likeness of Beatrice and added the
elements of a perfect Renaissance woman. Even though Portia is a woman, she still posses the
intelligence to use and manipulate words, the beauty to woo men, and the soul that stands above many
others. Her appearance adds to her angelic reputation and her wisdom allows the audience of the play
to acknowledge the theme of deceptive appearances.
It is very difficult for a modern audience to see the Merchant of Venice as the Elizabethans did. We see
this as a play about Shylock. And in fact, Shylock is without question the most powerful role in the play,
and in fact one of Shakespeare's most compelling characters. Like Falstaff in Henry IV, this is a case
where Shakespeare let himself get obsessively interested in what was intended to be a minor character
(Shylock in fact appears in only five scenes and has only 360 lines in the play and in Shakespeare's source
story was nothing but a cartoon villain) and let that character steal the play. But what it makes it worse
for us is that the main substance of the play, all the stuff about ships and commerce, seems devoid of
interest, whereas for Shakespeare's audience, made up in large part of merchants and other small
businessmen, it was of very real interest. (I am indebted to Martin Holmes's book Shakespeare's Public
for this insight.)

It is especially difficult for us to come to terms with the character of Portia, because we tend to forget
her real story and think of her as someone whose whole function in the play is to appear in the Duke's
chambers disguised as a legal expert. For one thing, the courtroom scene is the only scene in the play
where Portia becomes involved with the Shylock story, which today we see as the whole point of the
play. Secondly, for this scene Shakespeare has given Portia one of his most famous set speeches, the one
beginning, "The quality of mercy is not strained."

Sinead Cusak says the following about her experience playing Portia.

I finally worked out that the great problem for the actress playing Portia is to reconcile the girl at home
in Belmont early in the play with the one who plays a Daniel come to judgement in the Venetian court. I
couldn't understand why Shakespeare makes her so unsympathetic in those early scenes --- the spoilt
little rich girl dismissing suitor after suitor in a very derisory fashion. The girl who does that, I thought, is
not the woman to deliver the "quality of mercy" speech.

I don't want to discuss the way in which Sinead Cusak resolved this problem, except to say that I think it
was very different from the way Shakespeare himself intended the play to be performed, and yet at the
same time was undoubtedly a very good choice for someone playing to a modern audience.

Portia and the Suitors

I do not agree with Cusak that Portia is unsympathetic in the early Belmont scenes. I don't think it ever
occurred to Shakespeare that his audience might empathize with the unfortunate men who come as
suitors to Portia. Shakespeare was in the entertainment business. These man are standard comedy
characters, analogous to what one finds in many contemporary sitcoms about single women, and the
audience would laugh at them and find Portia's comments on them delightfully funny.

(In what follows, from Act 1 Scene 2, I have occasionally modernized the language slightly.)
Nerissa. First, there is the Neapolitan prince.

Portia. Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he does nothing but talk of his horse, and counts it as one of his chief
virtues that he can shoe him himself. I am much afeared his mother played around with a smith.

Nerissa. Then there is the Count Palatine.

Portia. He does nothing but frown. He hears merry tales and does not smile. I fear he will prove to be the
weeping philosopher in his old age, being so full of uncalled for sadness in his youth. I would rather be
married to a death's head with a bone in his mouth than to either of these.

Nerissa. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur le Bon?

Portia. God made him, so therefore let him pass for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker, but
this one! Why he hath a horse better than the Neapolitan's, a better bad habit of frowning than Count
Palatine. He is every man in no man. If he hears a song thrush sing, he immediately breaks into dance. He
will fence with his own shadow. To marry him would be to marry twenty husbands. If he were to despise
me, I'd readily forgive him, for even if he loved me to madness I'd never reciprocate.

Nerissa. What say you then to Falconbridge, the young baron of England?

Portia. You know I say nothing to him, because neither of us can understand the other. Not only can't he
speak Italian, but not French or Latin either. And you know full well that I speak barely a word of English.
He is a fine picture of a man, but alas, who can converse with a picture? And how oddly he dresses! I
think he bought his doublet in Italy, his hose in France, his hat in Germany, and his behavior everywhere.

Etc.

It is certainly possible to read these lines (or listen to them spoken on stage) and empathize with these
poor suitors and feel that Portia is being cruel in making fun of them. This is a personal reaction, and
depending on one's own temperament and personal experience, there will always be people who feel
hurt when things happen that most people find funny, as well as people who laugh at things that most
people find horrible. But what I do not find credible is to think that sympathy for the suitors is the
response Shakespeare was hoping to elicit from his audience. Shakespeare was in the entertainment
business.

In his characterizations, Shakespeare is in a way a very impressionistic writer. He does not delineate his
characters carefully, but throws out all sorts of little snippets of information which we then assemble to
create a character in our imaginations. (Or which an actor uses to create a character on stage.) Most
important of all, he distiguishes characters by the cadences of their speeches, their vocabularies, and the
rest of their verbal personalities. And, perhaps precisely because of this impressionistic approach, the
resulting characters seem very vivid to us, very alive. And because they seem so vivid and alive, we tend
to assume that the way we see a Shakespearean character is the way that character "really" is, forgetting
the fact that nowhere in the text does it actually confirm our impressions in so many words.

Centuries of criticism confirm the fact that even for the most careful thoughtful readers (and actors),
who a Shakespearean character is is very much a function of the particular reader. A critic tells us his
particular impression of a character, and supports his view with very careful reasoning and citations from
the text, and yet his arguments are most often simply not convincing to other critics.

From Sinead Cusak's comments (which I think are very worth reading, although I have not quoted much
of them here), one can see that she is unwilling or unable to accept The Merchant of Venice as a real
comedy. And this is understandable. I think that presenting it as the comedy I believe Shakespeare
intended would be unacceptable to almost any modern post-Holocaust audience.

I will quote here Harold Bloom's comments on Portia:

Portia, in play's center, is far more complex and shadowed than ever I have seen her portrayed as being.
Herself a sophisticated ironist, she settles happily for the glittering gold digger Bassanio, contemptuously
sentences poor Morocco and Aragon to celibate existences, and is delighted with her Belmont and her
Venice alike. More ever than the vicious Gratiano, she incarnates the "anything goes" spirit of Venice,
and her "quality of mercy" cheerfully tricks Shylock out of his life saving's in order to enrich her friends.
We would see her better as something out of Noel Coward or Cole Porter. I do suggest that Portia, who
knows better, is delighted to fail all her own finely wrought self-awareness. Her moral fiber is out of
Henry James, but her sense of the high life wryly allows her to settle for Bassanio and tricksterism. Yes,
she has the wit to flatten Shylock, Jew and alien, but her city, Venice, is completely on her side.

Although it's really irrelevant to the focus of my article here, I can't resist commenting that here Harold
Bloom is practicing that form of criticism which he himself most vociferously objects to --- namely,
criticism based on what he calls the Politics of Resentment.

Shakespeare does provide the actor the opportunity to play Shylock as a sympathetic character
(although I doubt that it ever occurred to Shakespeare that anyone would want to, and certainly such a
portrayal would have been unacceptable to Shakespeare's audience). But if one looks at the whole play
through Shylock's eyes and takes the point of view that he is a totally innocent businessman who is
cruelly mistreated, then it logically follows that all the other main characters in the play are a villains.
And to play the Merchant in this way requires that one ignores almost everything in the play about these
characters except for the end of the courtroom scene.

Certainly it makes sense to condemn the anti-semitism of Elizabethan society, but to condemn individual
characters in a play because they act in accord with the generally accepted attitudes of the society the
play is set in makes it impossible to ever understand the play for what it is. The fact is that Shakespeare's
play was written as and perceived by its Elizabethan audience (and for audiences for at least two

centuries afterwards) as an entertaining comedy, not a piece of social protest in which a bunch of vicious
bullies torment an innocent victim.

To Shakespeare's audience, which consisted in large part of merchants, craftsmen, and businessmen (c.f.
Shakespeare's Public by Martin Holmes), usury was an evil. Not just because it was condemned in the
Bible, but because usurers lent money at high interested rates to desperate businessmen and then
ruined them by foreclosing on their assets when they were unable to pay. (In the same way, bankers
were acceptable villains in nineteenth century American melodrama.) Today, when usury has become a
fact of life and one's mailbox is constantly filled with junk mail offering credit cards, it's hard to look at
the play through Elizabethan eyes. One would have to rewrite it and make Shylock into a villain who it's
socially acceptable to condemn, such as a Mafia loan shark or a drug dealer to see that Shakespeare's
audience saw Portia's swindling of Shylock (and certainly she did swindle him, coming into court
disguised as an impartial expert witness) as nothing less than simple justice. And certainly they saw
Portia as a heroine, not a persecutor of an innocent victim.

But Harold Bloom's personal impressions (as always, very personal) are always interesting, since he is a
very imaginative critic. I wish though that I could interrogate him and ask him specifically to point to
those passages in the play that his impressions of Portia are based on. Because I certainly do not find
lines in the text that show her as complex and shadowed, or in that in any way reminds me of Henry
James. Portia is one of Shakespeare's most memorable and most admired characters, and yet when one
looks through her lines in the play, it is hard to figure why. Except of the Quality of Mercy speech.

Although Portia is not primarily a comedian (not one who entertains us by telling jokes, in any case),
Portia's role is a comic role. This is clear from the tone of the text in the beginning of the play and from
the business with the rings.

But then the problem arises, as Sinead Cusak and so many others have pointed out, of what to do about
the courtroom scene in Act 4.

I am going to suggest the that even in the courtroom scene, Portia is a lot more like Lucille Ball than Joan
Plowright or Helen Mirren (or, for that matter, Sinead Cusak).

Portia in Disguise

There are a number of ways of trying to avoid confronting the apparent inconsistency in Portia's
character. We might recall that Portia has borrowed her courtroom garb from her cousin Bellario in
Padua, who is in fact a learned legal scholar. And at the end of Act 3 Scene 4, we see that she has also
asked Bellario for some notes, which presumably are her guide in the subsequent courtroom scene. One
can then try to reconcile the difference between Portia as we earlier saw her and as we see her in the
courtroom by arguing that the mercy speech was written for Portia by Bellario and she is merely reading
it, and that the same is pretty much true for the rest of her courtroom performance.

In my opinion, to accept this explanation is to destroy the dramatic integrity of the play. For one thing, to
make the logic of the story depend this sort of explanation, which is not even stated anywhere in the
text, is to basically invent a new play which is a substitute for the one that is written down. And if one of
the play's leading characters, in the play's climactic scene, is functioning as a mere mouthpiece, speaking
the words of a character who never even appears, then the whole play becomes meaningless and
certainly Portia's role in the courtroom (i.e. the Duke's chambers) becomes completely meaningless.

To understand the play, I think we need to ask the question why does Portia appear in the courtroom
disguised as a man? Why not have a true legal expert in the courtroom scene? Or have the Duke himself
deliver the arguments that Portia makes?

Well, to have the crucial arguments delivered by the Duke or by some true legal expert would mean that
the crucial plot point in the whole play would essentially come from a deus ex machina. In this case, the
story would somehow lose its point.

And for somewhat the same reason, I think it's essential that the audience recognize from the very first
moment that this supposed distinguished doctor of law is in fact Portia. I've seen it suggested that the
scene be played in such a way that Portia is not recognizable by the audience, and then the truth as an
amusing surprise in Act 5. In my opinion, this just won't work.

If we don't see through Portia's disguise, then in Act 4 Antonio's savior is still a deus ex machina. The play
loses its power, and it's too late to say in Act 5, "Oh, it was really Portia." In fact, if the audience really
didn't know the play and didn't know that the playwright was a god to be worshipped, and if the
courtroom scene were won by an unknown character, much of the audience would leave at the end of
Act 4 --- there would be nothing to stay for.

But moreover, we need to be able to recognize Portia while she gives the Mercy Speech because the
Mercy Speech is the defining moment in the play for Portia. It is the moment when we realize that she is
noble and courageous (and much more intelligent than anyone else in the courtroom). Portia loses her
whole impact in the play if we don't see who she is while she's giving this speech.

And we are surprised. We'd taken Portia for a bit of a bubble head, and now we suddenly realize how
intelligent she is. (Or if not intelligent, at the very least clever.) More intelligent than she realizes herself,
I believe.

But why should it be Portia who defeats Shylock? Why not have Bassanio or one of Antonio's other
friends, or even Antonio himself, present the crucial legal reasoning?

One can see that it wouldn't quite work. Although Portia herself is almost a deus ex machina in the
courtroom, since she has not been previously involved in the Shylock plot at all and we have had no
previous reason to even suspect that she had any legal expertise (which to me does seem like a genuine
flaw in the plot), I think that there is no other character available who could present the winning
arguments in the courtroom without having the story fall flat. Because if Antonio or any of the other
characters is capable of coming up with the arguments Portia uses, then basically this says that Shylock
simply underestimated his opponents and is not a worthy antagonist.

Now let me suggest a thought experiment. Let us suppose that we can ignore the Elizabethan social
values and put on a very modern version of the Merchant of Venice, where Portia doesn't bother to
disguise herself but is in fact a female law student (or, in fact, a distinguished jurist; why not?) and
appears in the courtroom as such. This is actually much more plausible than the way Shakespeare has
things. (Of course plausibility seemed to be the very last thing Shakespeare was ever striving for.)

Rewriting and performing the play this way would certainly be an interesting experiment. At the very
least, one would need a completely new Act 5. But I don't believe the play would really work without
Portia being in disguise. And the reason, in my opinion, is that Portia that would then completely
overpower the play.

As it is, at the end of the play, Antonio and Bassanio remain the heroes of the play. Antonio had been
within a few moments of losing his life, and Portia pulled off an incredible feat of legal legerdemain to
save him, and now they're all back in Belmont and, astonishingly enough, after having seen Portia's true
abilities in the Duke's chambers in Venice, now in Act 5 Antonio and Bassanio and the audience go back
to treating her as just another silly dame. A very lovely one, to be sure, and one who Bassanio is quite in
love with (although originally he said he only wanted her for her money), but still. Just a woman!

The trick with the rings is what brings the play back down from near tragedy (although I will argue that
the courtroom scene is also very comic) to almost slapstick. This is the classic pattern for male-female
comedies, continued in many modern sitcoms and movies. Portia, a woman, has managed to save
Antonio's life by outsmarting an opponent that he himself was not able to get the better of. This delights
the audience. But at the same time, we don't want to end the play with the message that a woman can
be smarter than a man. Certainly not if the play is to be a comedy!

So the trick with the rings is Portia's way of showing at the end that, after all, she and Nerissa are just
silly chicks. (Although in a different way, it also shows that they are not only smarter than Shylock, but
smarter than their husbands.)

In the conclusion to her book, As She Likes it: Shakespeare's Unruly's Women, Penny Gay writes,
The uniqueness of Shakespearean comedy is that it operates powerfully on us through the play of a
paradox: a conventional (patriarchal) community is revitalized by the incorporation, through the
institution of marriage, of the remarkable energies of a charismatic female presence; yet she has spent
most of the play flouting patriarchal protocols.

In fact, from all the comedies, I think that this is really only an accurate description of As You Like It, and
possibly also Much Ado About Nothing. Viola, in Twelfth Night, is certainly charming, and one might
conceivably describe her as charismatic, but her role in the plot is not really that of an active character
who makes things happen. And, except for her cross-dressing, which she does out of desperation and
with a complete lack of confidence, she certainly doesn't challenge the patriarchal conventions of
society. And Katherina, in The Taming of the Shrew, certainly doesn't revitalize her community.

But for the most part Shakespeare's comedies, like many of television's pre-feminist sitcoms, do contain
the subversive message that women are actually smarter than men, but wise enough to keep this a
secret. Portia does not go through the Merchant blatantly flaunting patriarchal conventions, nor does

she revitalize her community, and yet when the silly games of men manage to get matters thoroughly
bolloxed up, it is she, a woman, who is the only one capable of fixing what has gone wrong.

On the other hand, there's also a much easier answer to the question of why Portia appears in Act 4 in
disguise. Namely, Shakespeare did things the way he did because that's the way it was done in his source
story. And apparently, as so often, Shakespeare was combining two different source stories and didn't
bother to work out of how to combine them in a logical way. (The story logic would have been quite
correct if it had been her husband's father Portia was saving from death, as in the original story, rather
than someone who she didn't even know.)

And yet one can't really stop there. Even if all these explanations do explain why Shakespeare made the
choices he did, we still are left with the question: How did he manage to make it work? And it does work,
more or less, except that somehow there seem to be two very different Portias in the play.

If we believe in Act 1 that Portia is a shallow airhead who is cruel to her suitors, a "spoiled little rich girl,"
in Sinead Cusak's words, then we will not believe her credible in the courtroom. But I believe that in fact
that it is Cusak's judgement (along with that of many respected critics) that is shallow. Portia is like most
people in the real world, in that she's capable of being flippant and caustic and even cruel in a lot of
circumstances (she would in fact have to be almost a saint to treat her suitors other than she does), but
that doesn't mean she's not capable of serious thought when it's needed. The one thing we see for sure
from her comments in Act 1 is that she is definitely intelligent (or, at the very least, clever).

And the fact that Portia surprises us in the courtroom scene and shows an unexpected depth is, in my
opinion, an essential part of what makes the play comic. If the preceding acts had shown Portia as wise
and super-competent, then as I see it, the courtroom scene would fall flat. In this case, watching Portia
defeat Shylock would be like watching a professional boxer beat up a twelve-year-old boy.

Here I have to surprise myself by suggesting a feminist interpretation: Portia, like so many women, has
always been the victim of the belief that it's not a good thing for women to be intelligent. She's always
downplayed her intelligence, hidden it even from herself, allowed herself to express it only in socially
acceptable forms, such as sarcastic banter. And now there is the moment when she really needs that
intelligence, and she has a license to use it because she is masquerading as a man!

Well, I have to apologize to Shakespeare for suggesting such an interpretation. He was certainly no Ibsen
or Shaw who used his plays as way of giving the audience a message. But it does seem to me that, if we
see the play as a comedy, that's the way it has to work. And to be acceptable to an Elizabethan audience,
and even, I believe, to a modern one, we need the comedy to disguise the feminism. (Well, no, that's not
really quite correct, from Shakespeare's point of view. Shakespeare needed comedy in order to amuse
his audience. But comedy somehow often becomes all the funnier when it is used to make a point that
the audience agrees with. And I think it has always been acceptable, in Shakespeare and in sitcoms, to
present women as being smarter than men, as long as it's done in an amusing way.)

Why Have Portia Disguised as a Male?

And yet I don't think that any of that is the real reason for having Portia disguised as a man. I believe that
the ultimate reason is that having Portia in the courtroom in disguise worked for Shakespeare was not
because of plot logic, but simply because it made the courtroom scene funny. It's not merely funny, of
course. It's deadly serious, because Antonio's life is at stake. But I believe that to an Elizabethan
audience, the idea of a woman masquerading as a man and pretending to be the crucial attorney in a
courtroom scene was extremely comic. And like Buster Keaton or Harold Lloyd balancing on a ledge
many stories above the sidewalk, the peril involved only made the comedy that much more intense.

We read Shakespeare's comedies in which women impersonate men and tend to think, "How could she
get away with this disguise?" But the point it, she's not really supposed to, at least not as far as the
audience is concerned. Modern directors, and especially filmmakers, completely ruin the comedy by
finding ways of making Portia's disguise credible. But what's funny is that it's not credible, and yet the
other characters don't quite see through it. This is not Eugene O'Neill, this is the stuff of sitcoms.

One can watch Hillary Swank play Brandon Teena in the movie Boys Don't Cry, and think, "Yes, I can see
how people could have been fooled." But it is more useful to think of Dustin Hoffman in Tootsie. Portia is
a woman in an Elizabethan society (nominally Venetian, but all Shakespeare's characters are really
Elizabethans in funny clothes) where gender roles were sharply differentiated. Her masquerade would
be more difficult for her than it is for a man to impersonate a woman in our society. As I see her, she
tries to swagger and act like a man, but she keeps making mistakes. It constantly seems like she won't
pull it off, and yet she always manages to.

Remember that Shakespeare was not playing to an audience who had paid a lot of money to sit in a
darkened theatre and watch performers lit by spotlights. Shakespeare was an entertainer who had to

constantly work to hold his audience's attention. Every moment in a play by Shakespeare had to be
interesting. And Shakespeare, I believe, knew that a woman trying to pass for a man would always hold
his audience's attention.

Shylock as a Comic Villain

But before we can understand how Portia functions in the courtroom, we have to understand Shylock.
Because Portia's main role is almost that of a straight man to Shylock. (Once she has given the Mercy
Speech, she has almost no good lines in the whole scene, although I claim that her nonverbal
contribution is crucial.)

There are many legitimate ways of playing the courtroom scene, pretty much corresponding to the
different ways of portraying Shylock.

The text of the play gives the actor considerable leeway in deciding how to play Shylock. However in
choosing to play Shylock either as merely an evil villain or an innocent victim, one has to ignore certain
pieces of the text, for the text contains certain lines that unmistakably show that him as a villain, and
others which clearly show that he was a victim of unjustified discrimination.

But it seems to me (although I haven't seen very many performances of the play) that one is pretty much
forced to either play the courtroom scene as comic or to downplay the comedy in the rest of the play,
especially the business of the rings. And I can't believe that the latter would have been Shakespeare's
choice.

And to see the courtroom scene as comic, we first have to be able to see Shylock as a comic villain --- as
he was played throughout the seventeen and eighteenth centuries, until Edmund Kean's performance in
1814. Not comic in the sense of a comedian who makes us laugh, but rather a ridiculous figure who is
that butt of our laughter.

And I believe that if we look at the language of the text rather than starting from our own attitudes
about Jews and arguing about the story line or the various circumstances, we will see that Shylock was
written to be comic.

I am indebted especially to John Palmer's book Comic Characters of Shakespeare (1946). In particular,
Palmer draws attention to the following passage from Act 3 Scene 3 (prior to the courtroom scene):

Antonio is in the street, escorted by his jailer.

Antonio. Hear me yet, good Shylock.

Shylock. I'll have my bond! Speak not against my bond!

I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond.
Thou call'dst me dog before thou have a cause,
But since I am a dog, beware my fangs.
The Duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder,
Thou wicked jailer, that you foolishly
Come abroad with him at his request.

Antonio. I pray thee, hear me speak.

Shylock. I'll have my bond. I will not hear thee speak.

I'll have my bond, and therefore speak no more.
I'll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool,
To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield
To Christian intercessors. Follow not.
I'll have no speaking. I'll have my bond. [Exits.]

I've followed John Palmer's example in emphasizing the constant repetitions of the word bond. There's
an almost childish petulance here in Shylock's anger which puts us in the realm of sitcoms. (And yet
Shakespeare doesn't make things completely one-sided. He still reminds us that Shylock's grievances are
indeed real.)

Because my focus here is on Portia, I don't want to devote too much space to discussing Shylock. But I
believe that if one looks primarily at Shylock's language rather than arguing about situations, everything
about Shylock is most naturally seen as comic as well as sinister, including the fact that his daughter runs
away from him.

Certainly this is only one choice for the performers, but it is the choice sets the stage for the
interpretation of the courtroom scene that makes the most sense to me.

I Love Lucy.

Since our impression of Portia as someone intelligent and courageous seems to be completely
determined by the courtroom scene, I want to look at how she actually functions in this scene and what
is required of her.

Put aside for a moment the Quality-of-Mercy speech, which is a whole topic to itself, and look at the rest
of the scene.

Imagine seeing this play for the first time. And imagine that it has been billed not as a serious thoughtprovoking study of anti-Semitism, but as an entertainment.

Now we're in Act 4, Antonio standing there about to lose his life, with his chest bared and Shylock with
his knife sharpened, ready to cut. (Actually, I'm taking things out of sequence a little.)

This is insanity. As yet, it doesn't seem funny, and yet it is the stuff of farce. It could be out of Molire.

Now the judge (i.e. the Duke of Venice) announces that a learned jurist has arrived to give his advice on
this dispute. And the jurist walks in, and the audience quickly sees that it is in fact Bassanio's girlfriend
(actually his new bride) in disguise. A apparently frivolous woman who, when we saw her earlier, seemed
if anything to be a bit of a birdbrain.

We are now in I-Love-Lucy land. Lucy and Ethel have arrived in drag to try and convince the court to
spare Antonio's life. Lucy (Portia) and Ethel (Nerissa) swagger around, camping it up in the process of
pretending to be this learned jurist and his clerk. They seem to be two clowns who can only make the
situation worse. But then, to the surprise and delight of the studio audience, Lucy (i.e. Portia) stands
straight and gives the Mercy Speech, impressing the audience and everyone else. Except Shylock.

The Mercy Speech accomplishes nothing. Shylock says, "I crave the law. I ask for the penalty and the
forfeiture of the bond."

And the duel continues. And Portia fails. And fails over and over again. She's smart, and she makes all the
right moves, but she can't outsmart Shylock. Because in the first place she doesn't have any real
ammunition, but I think that the audience should also be constantly suspecting that she can't win
because she's a woman and because she doesn't really belong in that courtroom. And beyond this, I
think there are constantly moments when her disguise slips a little bit and she's in danger that some of
the other characters will realize that she's not who she claims to be.

For the scene to work now, at least as I see it, we have to see Shylock as not only an evil villain, but also
as a comic villain. I myself see a touch of Danny DeVito at his most sinister in Shylock, especially in the
courtroom scene, although Shylock does not have DeVito's signature tendency to make wisecracks. (I
also find it interesting to wonder how Peter Sellers would have played Shylock.)

Consider in particular the following passage. Obviously Danny DeVito is not a Shakespearean actor and
could not speak these lines as written, and yet one can almost hear his voice in them. (At the cost of
destroying the meter, I have altered a few of the lines slightly to make them a little closer to modern
English.) I continue to invite the reader to see this scene as an I-Love-Lucy episode. Portia can overplay
the mock solemnity of the young but extremely learned jurist she is masquerading as. But she can't
clown it up. The scene has to be comic and yet at the same time very serious.

Portia begins by establishing her credibility as an impartial judge. After making a few comments
recommending that Shylock be merciful, she looks at the bond signed by Antonio and pretends that up
to now she has been completely uninformed about the case.

Portia. Why this bond is forfeit;

And lawfully by this the Jew may claim
A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off
Nearest the merchant's heart. Be merciful.
Take thrice the money. Let me tear up the bond.

Shylock. When it has been paid, according to the tenure.

It doth appear you are a worthy judge;
You know the law, your exposition
Hath been most sound. I charge you by the law,
Whereof you are a well deserving pillar,
Proceed to judgement. By my soul, I swear
There is no power in the tongue of man
To sway me. I stand here on my bond.

Antonio. Most heartily I do beseech the court

To give the judgement.

Portia. Why then, thus it is;

You must prepare your bosom for his knife.

Shylock. Oh noble judge! Oh excellent young man!

Portia. For the intent and purpose of the law

Hath full relation to the penalty,
Which here appeareth due upon the bond.

Shylock. 'Tis very true. Oh wise and upright judge!

How much older thou art than thy looks!

Portia. Therefore lay bare your bosom.

Shylock. Ay, his breast.

So says the bond, doth it not, noble judge?
"Nearest his heart;" those are the very words.

Portia. It is so. Are there scales here to weigh the flesh?

Shylock. I have them ready.

Portia. Have you some surgeon ready, Shylock,

To stop his wounds, lest he bleed to death?

Shylock. Is it so nominated in the bond?

Portia. It is not so expressed, but what of that?

'Twere good you should do at least that, out of charity.

Shylock. I cannot find it here; 'tis not in the bond.

Somehow it is exactly in the fake naivete of the last few lines that I can most clearly hear Danny DeVito's
voice and see his facial expression. ("Gee, your honor, I just can't seem to find anywhere in this paper
Antonio signed where it mentions having a doctor on hand.")

At this point, just in case we were taking this scene too seriously, Shakespeare throws in a bit of comedy.
Antonio makes a death speech and Bassanio and Gratiano, upset at Antonio's coming demise, both state
that they would gladly sacrifice their beloved wives if doing so could save Antonio's life, not realizing, of
course, that their wives are standing right there in disguise hearing their words.

And Portia and Nerissa comment on this sarcastically. Although it's not marked as such, I would have
these two comments spoken as asides, so that the women can speak in their own voice and in the same
tone of voice they used in Belmont when mocking the unsuccessful suitors. (I'm going to paraphrase
slightly.)

Portia. Your wife would give little thanks for that

If she were to hear you make the offer.

Nerissa. It's a good thing you say this behind your wife's back. Otherwise you'd be in big trouble when
you get home.

All the males in the courtroom are extremely upset, but Portia and Nerissa are making jokes. This is the
final tip-off to the audience that nothing bad is really going to happen (except to Shylock, of course).

If the courtroom scene is played as deadly serious, almost realistically, as is so often done, then this
comic interchange, along with the business of the rings at the end, is very hard to integrate with the rest
of the scene.

I think that anyone who has much experience with listening to stories knows that Shylock is going to lose
as soon as he says the line

Shylock. Oh noble judge! Oh excellent young man!

One reason why we know he is going to lose is that he is smug. And the logic of storytelling is that
anytime a villain is overly smug, he will wind up being defeated.

But furthermore, this line shows that Portia has completely outfoxed Shylock, since he has now accepted
Portia's authority as an impartial expert. This comment by Shylock is Portia's first moment of triumph in
the courtroom scene, and I think the actress playing Portia should show this.

From a logical point of view, the person in the courtroom whose judgement is decisive is the Duke. But
for effective drama, the important person to convince is Shylock himself. For the drama to work, Shylock
must be convinced that the court has given him a fair hearing and that the law is against him. (And oddly
enough, the audience also mostly convinced of this, even though we are quite aware that the decision
against Shylock was made by a judge, i.e. Portia, who is completely partisan.)

As I see it, from this point on the courtroom scene becomes more overtly comic. I still see a hint of ILove-Lucy.

Lucy (Portia) does a Columbo. There is just one last point.

Portia. Tarry a little; there is something else.

This is a classic sitcom line. "Just a minute, please, before you start cutting. There's one more thing I'd
like to mention."

And with this one last point, she, this apparently frivolous woman in drag, manages to give an argument
that proves her superior to all the males.

To me, the comedy of Shylock's language in the courtroom scene (and the rest of the play) is clear. But
what is required of Portia in order to support this comedy?

Putting aside the Mercy Speech, the demands made on Portia in the courtroom scene are not very great.
She must be able to maintain her masquerade as a male and, most important, she must maintain an air
of absolute authority. If the other characters ever start to suspect that she doesn't know what she is
talking about, or suspect that what she is saying is merely an opinion, then the whole scene falls apart.

On the other hand, her masquerade shouldn't be completely flawless. If there are no little slip ups at all,
then the scene is not as interesting for the audience.

It seems to me that there is no difficulty in believing that the Portia who who makes fun of her suitors in
Act 1 will be able to spoof the men in the courtroom, and that she will derive an almost malicious
enjoyment from pulling the wool over the eyes of all these males. If one excludes the Mercy Speech,
then one can, as Harold Bloom says, imagine Portia being played as something out of Cole Porter.

The Ring Trick.

And the thing that made me suddenly realize that the courtroom scene is like something out of I Love
Lucy, and realize how the whole play works as a comedy was the ring trick. It is extremely funny if played
well although like a lot of comedy it lies rather flat on the written page. And it comes right at the end of
the courtroom scene, right after Portia has finished her masterful job of saving Antonio's life.

It was trying to figure out how Shakespeare could jump from the apparently sublime to the absolutely
ridiculous that made me suddenly see that the whole courtroom scene had to be comedy. Either that, or,
as it usually done, one downplays the comedy of the ring trick. And I cannot believe that Shakespeare,
whose business was entertaining people, would write a comic interaction and not expect it to be played
for all it was worth.

Furthermore, here, at the end of the courtroom scene, the androgynous eroticism of a boy pretending to
be a girl pretending to be a boy can come into this play.

First note Portia's comments when she first explains her plans to Nerissa in Act 3 Scene 4, before the
courtroom scene.
Portia: I'll hold thee any wager,
When we are both accoutered 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 mincing steps
Into a manly stride, and speak of frays
Like a fine bragging youth, and tell quaint lies,
How honorable ladies sought my love
Which I denying, they fell sick and died --I could not do withal.

Now, at the end of the courtroom scene, Bassanio, I think, finds himself strangely attracted to this young
doctor of laws who has just saved his friend's life. And then this young legal expert asks him for his ring in
a way that seems oddly seductive.

This is certainly not in the text. And yet I think that this way of playing the interchange is definitely
consistent with the text. Here's the passage.

Bassanio to the young jurist. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further.
Take some remembrance of us as a tribute,
Not as fee. Grant me two things, I pray you --Not to deny me and to pardon me.

Certainly Bassanio has every reason to be grateful to the young legal doctor. But is there something
more to his rather strong impulse to give the expert a gift? I think it could be played this way.

Now Portia's response:

Legal Doctor [i.e. Portia]. You press me far, and therefore I'll yield.
Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for your sake.
And for your love, I'll take this ring from you.
Do not draw back your hand; I'll take no more
And you in love shall not deny me this.

My edition of the play has a footnote that says that "you in love" should be translated as "in your good
will to me." And undoubtedly this is correct. And yet surely the use of the word love can also have a
more suggestive overtone. And the young legal expert's plan to wear Antonio's gloves seems even more
suggestive.

And Portia's line "Do not draw back your hand," (which I have italicized) certainly invites a coquettish
playing.

The interchange continues.

Bassanio. This ring, good sir, alas it is a trifle!

I will not shame myself to give you this.

Legal Doctor. I will have nothing else but only this

And now I think I have a mind to it.

Certainly at this point there's something very flirtatious going on. The Legal Doctor's tone has markedly
changed from what it was in the courtroom.

Bassanio. There's more depends on this than on the value.

The dearest ring in Venice will I give you,
And search it out by proclamation.
But for this, I pray you pardon me.

Portia. I see sir, you are liberal in offers.

You teach me first how to beg, and now methinks
You teach me how a beggar should be answered.
This is very much the same woman we saw in Belmont making caustic comments about her suitors to
Nerissa.
Bassanio. Sir, that ring was given me by my wife,
And when she put in on she made me vow
That I should neither sell it nor lose it.

Portia. That 'scuse serves many men to save their gifts.

If your wife be not a madwoman,
And know how well I have deserved this ring,
She would not hold out enemy forever
For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you! [Exits]

The tone here is classic male-female flirtation. And at the same time, in her attempt to shame Bassanio,
in the two speeches starting with, "I see, sir, that you are liberal in offers," Portia can once again cloak
herself in all the impressive authority she used in the courtroom.

Of course we, and the audience, are very aware that this is Portia teasing her husband. But how is the
actor playing Bassanio supposed to show him taking this? With a lot of confusion, certainly. But isn't
there something more to his feeling toward this doctor of laws than mere gratitude? In fact, the little bit
of flirtation here between the supposed legal doctor and Bassanio is actually more erotic than any
interchange in the play between Bassanio and the undisguised Portia.

Well, it's a choice for the actor, of course.

But this homoerotic teasing seems to be one aspect of Shakespeare's game of women impersonating
men.

The Mercy Speech

As Sinead Cusak points out, the biggest stumbling block to seeing the Portia in the Duke's chambers as
the same as the Portia at the beginning of the play is the "quality of mercy" speech. It seems extremely
difficult to imagine the woman who delivers this speech being the same one who was so witty and so
caustic in commenting on her suitors.

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 mighty in the mightiest;
It becomes the thrond monarch better than his crown.
His scepter shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this scepter'd sway;
It is enthrond in the hearts of kings,

It is an attribute of God himself,

And earthy 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, the strict court of Venice
Must give sentence 'gainst the merchant there.

This speech is, at least for audiences of the past couple of centuries, the high point of the play. It is one
of the great Shakespearean arias, as it were.

Portia is commonly considered one of Shakespeare's greatest women, a noble and heroic character. And
the reason for this certainly has nothing to do with her scenes in Belmont in Act 1 and Act 5. Our overall
impression of Portia is primarily determined by the courtroom scene in Act 4 --- a scene in which she is
impersonating someone else! And above all, it is determined, for most people, by the Mercy Speech.

In fact, aside from the Mercy Speech, Portia doesn't have a single memorable line in the whole play.

My own opinion is that Shakespeare wasn't even thinking about Portia when he wrote this speech. He
knew that he needed a speech praising mercy, and these are the words he came up with. He gave it to
Portia, because she was the character who needed it.

I referred to Portia's speech as an aria. Actually, I have to admit to not being much of an opera fan, so I
find it more useful to compare Shakespeare's set speeches to the songs in a musical comedy. We know
that in normal life, people don't suddenly start singing about what is happening. But we accept the

convention that this happens in musical comedies. The song, at least ideally, needs to be in character for
the personality of the character singing it. And yet, even if the world were such that people did suddenly
break into song, the song, a carefully crafted work by the composer and lyricist, is not usually something
which this particular character would be capable of creating.

I think that the actress playing Portia, when she delivers the Mercy Speech, has to be not embarrassed
about the fact that she's grandstanding; she's meant to. She's standing in a courtroom and she's giving a
carefully thought-out speech, playing to the audience as well as to the court, using every bit of energy
she can muster to create an impression of charisma and stature that is a considerable achievement for
the boy Portia is impersonating, much less for Portia herself. I'm sure that Shakespeare's own actresses
(i.e. boy actors) played this for all it was worth.

Obviously a speech like this would be something that Portia had thought about quite a bit in advance.
Logically it makes sense that such a well constructed speech would be something that she had prepared
ahead of time and memorized. But I think that dramatically it's always more effective if a speech is
delivered as if the speaker were thinking the thoughts as she speaks them. So that at the first moment,
the only thought in Portia's mind is, "The quality of mercy is not strained." But as soon as she says this,
the simile occurs to her: "It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven on the place beneath." And then it
seems natural to add, "It is twice blest; it blesseth him that gives and him that takes." And at that point
she starts to hit her stride, and the words start coming faster. (Just as in a musical comedy, there are
often two lines that are spoken before the character really begins to sing.)

In his article "The Problem of Shylock" in The Merchant of Venice: Critical Essays, edited by Thomas
Wheeler, Bill Overton writes,
[The Mercy Speech] is very much a set piece in its careful rhetorical construction, developing through
nice antitheses to an impressively built climax. In context, it is a public, forensic performance rather than
a private appeal. Portia is laying down the moral law, and her tone is less that of compassionate
persuasion than of the sermon or lecture.

As many people have pointed out, neither in the courtroom scene nor in her treatment of her suitors
does Portia seem like an especially merciful person. But I do think that she's intelligent enough so that,
given the task of coming up in a few days with something persuasive to say on the subject of mercy, she
could have come up with these thoughts. Like most speechwriters, her preaching is far better than her
practice. The truth is that the Mercy Speech is not very profound, it's merely well expressed. And in
truth, only the first four lines are all that great. The Mercy Speech doesn't show Portia as being deep

(much less complex and shadowed or having a moral fibre out of Henry James, as Bloom suggests), but it
does, I believe, show her as more intelligent and competent than we had expected.

For those who disparage Portia based on what we see of her in the first three acts at Belmont, and find it
inconsistent that she should give the Mercy Speech, I would suggest still another experiment. I would
invite the reader to wonder who else in the play Shakespeare could have given the Mercy Speech to. I
think it would have been credible if spoken by the Duke, but then we know nothing about the Duke in
any case, so almost anything is believable of him.

But I can't believe this speech being believable in the mouth of Antonio or Bassanio or Gratiano or in fact
anyone else in the play.

And on the other hand, suppose we were to take the scenes in reverse order, so that we heard Portia
give the Mercy Speech before we met her in Belmont. Would her sarcastic comments about her suitors
seem unbelievable after we'd heard the in the courtroom? I don't think so, especially after the business
with the rings.

But on second thought, this is still not very satisfactory. It would be much better if the Mercy Speech
were delivered out of deep-rooted convicion, rather than merely being a well prepared defense lawyer's
address to the court. (It would also be better if it were a better speech.) I think that Portia can in fact do
this without being glaringly inconsistent with what we see of her in the rest of the play. But it's a bit like
the old maxim in creative writing classes: Show, don't tell. Where else in the play do we actually see
Portia behaving like someone with a deep-rooted commitment to mercy?

The fact is that we do accept the play. Critics may have their doubts, but when Portia stands in the
courtroom and says, "The quality of mercy is not strained," she is credible to the audience.

In my opinion, the reason why we admire Portia is not because we are impressed the actual words of the
Mercy Speech (or anything else she says), but that fact that she, who we have previously seen as
pampered and frivolous, when confronted with evil, stands tall and speaks her truth. Antonio and all his
friends are willing to just stand by and allow an outrage to happen, but Portia is the one person who has
the guts to actually take action against it.

But I think we try to take the play much too seriously. We see it as a play about a very serious issue, but
for Shakespeare and his audience, the issue was a non-issue. As Harold Bloom says, the play is out of
Cole Porter. Or I Love Lucy. Or as regards Portia and her Belmont friends, maybe Dynasty or Dallas or
even Beverly Hills 90201 -- one of those nighttime soap operas.

It is often said that the Merchant of Venice of William Shakespeare does not have any hero but it has a
heroine, Portia. Portia is perhaps the strong character in the Merchant of Venice. She is a good
counterpart of Shylock who is the evil. If we look at the other leading male characters like Bassanio and
Antonio we can find that they were not as strong as Portia who could fight the villain Shylock. So, Portia
is a very impressive and exceptional of character in English drama. She is one of the strongest characters
made by William Shakespeare.

The first impression we get of Portia is that she is a beautiful and wealthy women. She is the news of her
beauty and wealth all over the world and people from different countries came to the hope of getting
married with her. Thus, Portia was a very attractive woman to everyone. To get married to her, princes
from Scotland and Morocco came. Bassanio even made Antonio take loan from his enemy Shylock just to
go and test his fortune to get married with Portia. Thus, the beauty and wealth of Portia made her an
exceptional figure. There was the rule that any man who could solve the mystery of the Cascade would
be able to marry her and enjoy her wealth.

Although Portia was very rich, at the same time she was very romantic. When sweeter from different
countries came to seek her for marriage she gave interesting opinions about them. It is clear that she
liked Bassanio who was a good man. Bassanio was not a rich or powerful man. He was not a prince or
even he was not a big trader. He was only the friend of Antonio. This was his main identity in the society
of Venice. Even Portia did not care for this and she thought that Bassanio was the perfect man for her
and she was eager that Bassanio can solve the mystery of the Cascade and get married with her. This
clearly shows that Portia gives more value to love and romance than wealth and power.

Portia was a very smart and skilled person. She was educated and the same time she was clever person.
She could out with Shylock in his own game. This is a lot of mental strength and also a lot of knowledge

and wisdom. Portia had all the wisdom that a woman can dream of. She knows what to say in which
condition and this smartness in the end saved Antonio.

Portia was a very brave woman. When she needed she could be soft, when she needed she could be
brave. When she heard the news of Antonio then she decided that she must try to save Antonio because
Antonio had fallen into danger only by helping Bassanio to come to Portia. So, she took the disguise of a
man and went to Venice and then fought with Shylock head to head and toe to toe. Shylock was an evil
character and he was a very powerful person. Antonio or Bassanio or even the duke could not convince
him or could not even make him little bit softer towards Antonio. But Portia had the mental courage to
fight against Shylock and in the end she successfully defeated Shylock.

One of the qualities that attract the readers towards Portia is that she was an obedient daughter and at
the same time she was a very loyal and obedient wife. She agreed with the wish of her father about the
matter of cascade. She waited patiently to get married. If she wanted she could easily told Bassanio or
another person what was the secret of the secret of the secret of three cascades and could get married
but she waited patiently and even allow other princes to try for it. She was loyal and obedient but at the
same time she had firmness, she had firm characteristics, she was brave and she was ready to fight with
anyone. She was also ready to fight with injustice. This quality of her really makes her exception.

Portia is one of the finest characters created by William Shakespeare. Normally, the characters of
Shakespeare are strong. If we look at Lady Macbeth then we can see that she was a very strong
character. On the other hand, the characters of the comedy are not that strong but I think that Portia is
an exception to this matter. Portia was not only strong but Portia had many qualities that I have talked
about. I have already said that she was beautiful, she was a romantic person, smart skill and educated
and she was also brave. All these characteristics have made her into a very exceptional woman of
Elizabethan time. I have no doubt that there were very few women in that time in England and Europe
who possessed remarkable qualities like Portia.
Portia is the rich daughter of Belmont and heiress to her dead fathers fortune. We first hear of her as a
rich woman who could be the answer to all of Bassanios money troubles. But Portia turns out to be
much more than a rich plot-device. This woman is one of Shakespeares deeper female characters shes
a good girl, but she knows what she wants and how to get it, even if her methods are a bit
unconventional.

To the play, its important that Portia is wealthy, but as the story develops, it becomes more important
that shes clever. With her disguised defense of Antonio at court, and her silly-but-devious ring trick,
Portia shows that shes mostly willing to play by the rules, but will have fun interpreting and twisting
them to her own pleasure. She can out-think everyone, which helps her to win over the court, deceive
Bassanio and Gratiano, and even back her husband into a corner at the end of the play. Her thinking also
leads her to some deep thoughts on a variety of issues some of the more philosophical speeches of the
play belong to Portia. Most importantly, she operates within the bounds of the rules of social and legal
norms, yet her quick and mischievous thinking allows her to be imaginative within those bounds instead
of being oppressed by them.

Though Portia is clearly strong-willed (she shows her disdain for her many wooing men), shes still an
obedient girl. She sticks to her fathers plan for her and simply hopes that it will turn out right, though
shes not above being snarky when it comes to dealing with each of the suitors. The lady is gracious, so
shell do things as theyre supposed to be done, but shell be damned if she doesnt do things her way on
top of that. The only time we ever really see Portia out of sorts is when shes faced with Bassanios
choice. For the first time in the play, she doesnt seem to know what to say, or is unable to really
communicate what she is feeling, which seems to be love for Bassanio. She gives herself over to him
fully, but in everything that follows she does as she pleases, rendering her both obedient and ruleabiding (with regard to her husband and father), but not without a hint of her own mischief. Portias got
her own touch, and shes smart enough to figure out how to get what she wants. She has a certain
playfulness too, which means her machinations arent manipulations, but just part of a fun game she
devises.

Ultimately, this complexity still allows her to fit within the confines of being a woman in her times. And
yet, her wit, intelligence, and generosity are all tools she uses to let others know that while shes
definitely a woman, and seems to be accordingly limited, she isnt subordinate to anybody except
when she chooses to be. Her cross-dressing endeavor, where she outwits all the men in both the law and
their ability to define gender, is a perfect example of this kind of cleverness. Besides displaying her ability
to exploit loopholes, the cross-dressing is a clear if complicated testament to Portias view of justice and
of her own intelligence. She knows the rules (both of social and legal norms), but shes discerning
enough to be able to decide which ones must be followed and which are just silly. Portia follows the
former doggedly while working her way around the others. Shed never disobey her fathers will, but she
happily uses the law against Shylocks invocation of it. She expresses a desire to be Bassanios woman,
but she directly flouts social rules by dressing as a man. Portia has clearly thought about justice, devised
a code that suits her, and follows it to the letter.