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And now for KickAss Shakespeare's presentation of
The Merchant of Venice
Act I
Act I. Scene I. Venice. A street.
Enter Antonio, Salarino, and Salanio
In sooth, I know not why I am so sad:
It wearies me; you say it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn;
And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.
It wearies me: you say it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuffe 'tis made of, whereof it is borne,
I am to learne: and such a Want-wit sadnesse makes of
mee,
That I haue much ado to know my selfe
Your mind is tossing on the ocean;
There, where your argosies with portly sail,
10Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood,
Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea,
Do overpeer the petty traffickers,
That curtsy to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.
There where your Argosies with portly saile
Like Signiors and rich Burgers on the flood,
Or as it were the Pageants of the sea,
Do ouer-peere the pettie Traffiquers
That curtsie to them, do them reuerence
As they flye by them with their wouen wings
Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth,
The better part of my affections would
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind,
Peering in maps for ports and piers and roads;
20And every object that might make me fear
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt
Would make me sad.
The better part of my affections, would
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
Plucking the grasse to know where sits the winde,
Peering in Maps for ports, and peers, and rodes:
And euery obiect that might make me feare
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt
Would make me sad
My wind cooling my broth
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great at sea might do.
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
But I should think of shallows and of flats,
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand,
Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs
30To kiss her burial. Should I go to church
And see the holy edifice of stone,
And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks,
Which touching but my gentle vessel's side,
Would scatter all her spices on the stream,
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks,
And, in a word, but even now worth this,
And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought
To think on this, and shall I lack the thought
That such a thing bechanced would make me sad?
40But tell not me; I know, Antonio
Is sad to think upon his merchandise.
Would blow me to an Ague, when I thought
What harme a winde too great might doe at sea.
I should not see the sandie houre-glasse runne,
But I should thinke of shallows, and of flats,
And see my wealthy Andrew docks in sand,
Vailing her high top lower then her ribs
To kisse her buriall; should I goe to Church
And see the holy edifice of stone,
And not bethinke me straight of dangerous rocks,
Which touching but my gentle Vessels side
Would scatter all her spices on the streame,
Enrobe the roring waters with my silkes,
And in a word, but euen now worth this,
And now worth nothing. Shall I haue the thought
To thinke on this, and shall I lacke the thought
That such a thing bechaunc'd would make me sad?
But tell me, I know Anthonio
Is sad to thinke vpon his merchandize
Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it,
My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,
Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
Upon the fortune of this present year:
Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad.
My ventures are not in one bottome trusted,
Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
Vpon the fortune of this present yeere:
Therefore my merchandize makes me not sad
Why, then you are in love.
Fie, fie!
Not in love neither? Then let us say you are sad,
50Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy
For you to laugh and leap and say you are merry,
Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus,
Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time:
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes
And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper,
And other of such vinegar aspect
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.
Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easie
For you to laugh and leape, and say you are merry
Because you are not sad. Now by two-headed Ianus,
Nature hath fram'd strange fellowes in her time:
Some that will euermore peepe through their eyes,
And laugh like Parrats at a bag-piper.
And other of such vineger aspect,
That they'll not shew their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor sweare the iest be laughable.
Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano
Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman,
60Gratiano and Lorenzo. Fare ye well:
We leave you now with better company.
Enter Bassanio, Lorenso, and Gratiano.
Your most noble Kinsman,
Gratiano, and Lorenso. Faryewell,
We leaue you now with better company
I would have stay'd till I had made you merry,
If worthier friends had not prevented me.
If worthier friends had not preuented me
Your worth is very dear in my regard.
I take it, your own business calls on you
And you embrace the occasion to depart.
I take it your owne busines calls on you,
And you embrace th' occasion to depart
Good morrow, my good lords.
Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say, when?
You grow exceeding strange: must it be so?
You grow exceeding strange: must it be so?
We'll make our leisures to attend on yours.
Exeunt Salarino and Salanio
Exeunt.Salarino, and Solanio.
My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio,
We two will leave you: but at dinner-time,
I pray you, have in mind where we must meet.
We two will leaue you, but at dinner time
I pray you haue in minde where we must meete
I will not fail you.
You look not well, Signior Antonio;
You have too much respect upon the world:
They lose it that do buy it with much care:
Believe me, you are marvellously changed.
You haue too much respect vpon the world:
They loose it that doe buy it with much care,
Beleeue me you are maruellously chang'd
I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano;
80A stage where every man must play a part,
And mine a sad one.
A stage, where euery man must play a part,
And mine a sad one
Let me play the fool:
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come,
And let my liver rather heat with wine
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?
Sleep when he wakes and creep into the jaundice
By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio--
90I love thee, and it is my love that speaks--
There are a sort of men whose visages
Do cream and mantle like a standing pond,
And do a wilful stillness entertain,
With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit,
As who should say 'I am Sir Oracle,
And when I ope my lips let no dog bark!'
O my Antonio, I do know of these
That therefore only are reputed wise
100For saying nothing; when, I am very sure,
If they should speak, would almost damn those ears,
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools.
I'll tell thee more of this another time:
But fish not, with this melancholy bait,
For this fool gudgeon, this opinion.
Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well awhile:
I'll end my exhortation after dinner.
With mirth and laughter let old wrinckles come,
And let my Liuer rather heate with wine,
Then my heart coole with mortifying grones.
Why should a man whose bloud is warme within,
Sit like his Grandsire, cut in Alablaster?
Sleepe when he wakes? and creep into the Iaundies
By being peeuish? I tell thee what Anthonio,
I loue thee, and it is my loue that speakes:
There are a sort of men, whose visages
Do creame and mantle like a standing pond,
And do a wilfull stilnesse entertaine,
With purpose to be drest in an opinion
Of wisedome, grauity, profound conceit,
As who should say, I am sir an Oracle,
And when I ope my lips, let no dogge barke.
O my Anthonio, I do know of these
That therefore onely are reputed wise,
For saying nothing; when I am verie sure
If they should speake, would almost dam those eares
Which hearing them would call their brothers fooles:
Ile tell thee more of this another time.
But fish not with this melancholly baite
For this foole Gudgin, this opinion:
Come good Lorenzo, faryewell a while,
Ile end my exhortation after dinner
Well, we will leave you then till dinner-time:
I must be one of these same dumb wise men,
110For Gratiano never lets me speak.
I must be one of these same dumbe wise men.
For Gratiano neuer let's me speake
Well, keep me company but two years moe,
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine owne tongue
Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear.
Thanks, i' faith, for silence is only commendable
In a neat's tongue dried and a maid not vendible.
Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo
In a neats tongue dri'd, and a maid not vendible.
Exit.
Is that any thing now?
Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more
than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two
grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you
120shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you
have them, they are not worth the search.
more then any man in all Venice, his reasons are two
graines of wheate hid in two bushels of chaffe: you shall
seeke all day ere you finde them, & when you haue them
they are not worth the search
Well, tell me now what lady is the same
To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,
That you today promised to tell me of?
To whom you swore a secret Pilgrimage
That you to day promis'd to tel me of?
'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
How much I have disabled mine estate,
By something showing a more swelling port
Than my faint means would grant continuance:
Nor do I now make moan to be abridged
130From such a noble rate; but my chief care
Is to come fairly off from the great debts
Wherein my time something too prodigal
Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio,
I owe the most, in money and in love,
And from your love I have a warranty
To unburden all my plots and purposes
How to get clear of all the debts I owe.
How much I haue disabled mine estate,
By something shewing a more swelling port
Then my faint meanes would grant continuance:
Nor do I now make mone to be abridg'd
From such a noble rate, but my cheefe care
Is to come fairely off from the great debts
Wherein my time something too prodigall
Hath left me gag'd: to you Anthonio
I owe the most in money, and in loue,
And from your loue I haue a warrantie
To vnburthen all my plots and purposes,
How to get cleere of all the debts I owe
I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it;
And if it stand, as you yourself still do,
140Within the eye of honour, be assured,
My purse, my person, my extremest means,
Lie all unlock'd to your occasions.
And if it stand as you your selfe still do,
Within the eye of honour, be assur'd
My purse, my person, my extreamest meanes
Lye all vnlock'd to your occasions
In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft,
I shot his fellow of the self-same flight
The self-same way with more advised watch,
To find the other forth, and by adventuring both
I oft found both: I urge this childhood proof,
Because what follows is pure innocence.
I owe you much, and, like a wilful youth,
150That which I owe is lost; but if you please
To shoot another arrow that self way
Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,
As I will watch the aim, or to find both
Or bring your latter hazard back again
And thankfully rest debtor for the first.
I shot his fellow of the selfesame flight
The selfesame way, with more aduised watch
To finde the other forth, and by aduenturing both,
I oft found both. I vrge this child-hoode proofe,
Because what followes is pure innocence.
I owe you much, and like a wilfull youth,
That which I owe is lost: but if you please
To shoote another arrow that selfe way
Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,
As I will watch the ayme: Or to finde both,
Or bring your latter hazard backe againe,
And thankfully rest debter for the first
You know me well, and herein spend but time
To wind about my love with circumstance;
And out of doubt you do me now more wrong
In making question of my uttermost
160Than if you had made waste of all I have:
Then do but say to me what I should do
That in your knowledge may by me be done,
And I am prest unto it: therefore, speak.
To winde about my loue with circumstance,
And out of doubt you doe more wrong
In making question of my vttermost
Then if you had made waste of all I haue:
Then doe but say to me what I should doe
That in your knowledge may by me be done,
And I am prest vnto it: therefore speake
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:
170Nor 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 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!
And she is faire, and fairer then that word,
Of wondrous vertues, sometimes from her eyes
I did receiue faire speechlesse messages:
Her name is Portia, nothing vndervallewd
To Cato's daughter, Brutus Portia,
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth,
For the four windes blow in from euery coast
Renowned sutors, and her sunny locks
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece,
Which makes her seat of Belmont Cholchos strond,
And many Iasons come in quest of her.
O my Anthonio, had I but the meanes
To hold a riuall place with one of them,
I haue a minde presages me such thrift,
That I should questionlesse be fortunate
Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea;
Neither have I money nor commodity
To raise a present sum: therefore go forth;
Try what my credit can in Venice do:
That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost,
To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia.
Go, presently inquire, and so will I,
Where money is, and I no question make
To have it of my trust or for my sake.
Exeunt
Neither haue I money, nor commodity
To raise a present summe, therefore goe forth
Try what my credit can in Venice doe,
That shall be rackt euen to the vttermost,
To furnish thee to Belmont to faire Portia.
Goe presently enquire, and so will I
Where money is, and I no question make
To haue it of my trust, or for my sake.
Exeunt.
Act I. Scene II: Belmont. A room in Portia's house.
Enter Portia and Nerissa
By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of
this great world.
Enter Portia with her waiting woman Nerissa.
of this great world
You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in
the same abundance as your good fortunes are: and
yet, for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit
with too much as they that starve with nothing. It
is no mean happiness therefore, to be seated in the
mean: superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but
competency lives longer.
were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are:
and yet for ought I see, they are as sicke that surfet with
too much, as they that starue with nothing; it is no smal
happinesse therefore to bee seated in the meane, superfluitie
comes sooner by white haires, but competencie
liues longer
Good sentences and well pronounced.
They would be better, if well followed.
If to do were as easy as to know what were good to
do, chapels had been churches and poor men's
cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that
follows his own instructions: I can easier teach
twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the
twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may
devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps
o'er a cold decree: such a hare is madness the
20youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the
cripple. But this reasoning is not in the fashion to
choose me a husband. O me, the word 'choose!' I may
neither choose whom I would nor refuse whom I
dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curbed
by the will of a dead father. Is it not hard,
Nerissa, that I cannot choose one nor refuse none?
good to doe, Chappels had beene Churches, and poore
mens cottages Princes Pallaces: it is a good Diuine that
followes his owne instructions; I can easier teach twentie
what were good to be done, then be one of the twentie
to follow mine owne teaching: the braine may deuise
lawes for the blood, but a hot temper leapes ore a
colde decree, such a hare is madnesse the youth, to skip
ore the meshes of good counsaile the cripple; but this
reason is not in fashion to choose me a husband: O mee,
the word choose, I may neither choose whom I would,
nor refuse whom I dislike, so is the wil of a liuing daughter
curb'd by the will of a dead father: it is not hard Nerrissa,
that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none
Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men at their
death have good inspirations: therefore the lottery,
that he hath devised in these three chests of gold,
30silver and lead, whereof who chooses his meaning
chooses you, will, no doubt, never be chosen by any
rightly but one who shall rightly love. But what
warmth is there in your affection towards any of
these princely suitors that are already come?
at their death haue good inspirations, therefore the lotterie
that hee hath deuised in these three chests of gold,
siluer, and leade, whereof who chooses his meaning,
chooses you, wil no doubt neuer be chosen by any rightly,
but one who you shall rightly loue: but what warmth
is there in your affection towards any of these Princely
suters that are already come?
I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou namest
them, I will describe them; and, according to my
description, level at my affection.
them, I will describe them, and according to my description
leuell at my affection
First, there is the Neapolitan prince.
Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but
40talk of his horse; and he makes it a great
appropriation to his own good parts, that he can
shoe him himself. I am much afeard my lady his
mother played false with a smith.
talke of his horse, and hee makes it a great appropriation
to his owne good parts that he can shoo him himselfe:
I am much afraid my Ladie his mother plaid false
with a Smyth
Then there is the County Palatine.
He doth nothing but frown, as who should say 'If you
will not have me, choose:' he hears merry tales and
smiles not: I fear he will prove the weeping
philosopher when he grows old, being so full of
unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had rather be
50married to a death's-head with a bone in his mouth
than to either of these. God defend me from these
two!
say, and you will not haue me, choose: he heares merrie
tales and smiles not, I feare hee will proue the weeping
Phylosopher when he growes old, being so full of vnmannerly
sadnesse in his youth.) I had rather to be married
to a deaths head with a bone in his mouth, then to either
of these: God defend me from these two
How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon?
Le Boune?
God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man.
In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker: but,
he! why, he hath a horse better than the
Neapolitan's, a better bad habit of frowning than
the Count Palatine; he is every man in no man; if a
throstle sing, he falls straight a capering: he will
60fence with his own shadow: if I should marry him, I
should marry twenty husbands. If he would despise me
I would forgive him, for if he love me to madness, I
shall never requite him.
man, in truth I know it is a sinne to be a mocker, but he,
why he hath a horse better then the Neopolitans, a better
bad habite of frowning then the Count Palentine, he
is euery man in no man, if a Trassell sing, he fals straight
a capring, he will fence with his owne shadow. If I should
marry him, I should marry twentie husbands: if hee
would despise me, I would forgiue him, for if he loue me
to madnesse, I should neuer requite him
What say you, then, to Falconbridge, the young baron
of England?
Baron of England?
You know I say nothing to him, for he understands
not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latin, French,
nor Italian, and you will come into the court and
swear that I have a poor pennyworth in the English.
70He is a proper man's picture, but, alas, who can
converse with a dumb-show? How oddly he is suited!
I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round
hose in France, his bonnet in Germany and his
behavior every where.
not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latine, French,
nor Italian, and you will come into the Court & sweare
that I haue a poore pennie-worth in the English: hee is a
proper mans picture, but alas who can conuerse with a
dumbe show? how odly he is suited, I thinke he bought
his doublet in Italie, his round hose in France, his bonnet
in Germanie, and his behauiour euery where
What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour?
That he hath a neighbourly charity in him, for he
borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman and
swore he would pay him again when he was able: I
think the Frenchman became his surety and sealed
80under for another.
he borrowed a boxe of the eare of the Englishman, and
swore he would pay him againe when hee was able: I
thinke the Frenchman became his suretie, and seald vnder
for another
How like you the young German, the Duke of Saxony's nephew?
Saxonies Nephew?
Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober, and
most vilely in the afternoon, when he is drunk: when
he is best, he is a little worse than a man, and
when he is worst, he is little better than a beast:
and the worst fall that ever fell, I hope I shall
make shift to go without him.
and most vildely in the afternoone when hee is drunke:
when he is best, he is a little worse then a man, and when
he is worst, he is little better then a beast: and the worst
fall that euer fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without
him
If he should offer to choose, and choose the right
casket, you should refuse to perform your father's
90will, if you should refuse to accept him.
Casket, you should refuse to performe your Fathers will,
if you should refuse to accept him
Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, set a
deep glass of rhenish wine on the contrary casket,
for if the devil be within and that temptation
without, I know he will choose it. I will do any
thing, Nerissa, ere I'll be married to a sponge.
a deepe glasse of Reinish-wine on the contrary Casket,
for if the diuell be within, and that temptation without,
I know he will choose it. I will doe any thing Nerrissa
ere I will be married to a spunge
You need not fear, lady, the having any of these
lords: they have acquainted me with their
determinations; which is, indeed, to return to their
home and to trouble you with no more suit, unless
100you may be won by some other sort than your father's
imposition depending on the caskets.
these Lords, they haue acquainted me with their determinations,
which is indeede to returne to their home,
and to trouble you with no more suite, vnlesse you may
be won by some other sort then your Fathers imposition,
depending on the Caskets
If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as
chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner
of my father's will. I am glad this parcel of wooers
are so reasonable, for there is not one among them
but I dote on his very absence, and I pray God grant
them a fair departure.
chaste as Diana: vnlesse I be obtained by the manner
of my Fathers will: I am glad this parcell of wooers
are so reasonable, for there is not one among them but
I doate on his verie absence: and I wish them a faire departure
Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a
Venetian, a scholar and a soldier, that came hither
110in company of the Marquis of Montferrat?
time, a Venecian, a Scholler and a Souldior that
came hither in companie of the Marquesse of Mountferrat?
Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, he was so called.
call'd
True, madam: he, of all the men that ever my foolish
eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady.
foolish eyes look'd vpon, was the best deseruing a faire
Lady
I remember him well, and I remember him worthy of
thy praise.
Enter a Serving-man
How now! what news?
of thy praise.
The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take
their leave: and there is a forerunner come from a
fifth, the Prince of Morocco, who brings word the
120prince his master will be here toight.
Enter a Seruingman.
their leaue: and there is a fore-runner come from a fift,
the Prince of Moroco, who brings word the Prince his
Maister will be here to night
If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good a
heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I should
be glad of his approach: if he have the condition
of a saint and the complexion of a devil, I had
rather he should shrive me than wive me. Come,
Nerissa. Sirrah, go before.
Whiles we shut the gates
upon one wooer, another knocks at the door.
Exeunt
heart as I can bid the other foure farewell, I should be
glad of his approach: if he haue the condition of a Saint,
and the complexion of a diuell, I had rather hee should
shriue me then wiue me. Come Nerrissa, sirra go before;
whiles wee shut the gate vpon one wooer, another
knocks at the doore.
Exeunt.
Act I. Scene III. Venice. A public place.
Enter Bassanio and Shylock
Three thousand ducats; well.
Enter Bassanio with Shylocke the Iew.
Ay, sir, for three months.
For three months; well.
For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound.
Anthonio shall be bound
Antonio shall become bound; well.
May you stead me? will you pleasure me? shall I
know your answer?
Shall I know your answere
Three thousand ducats for three months and Antonio bound.
and Anthonio bound
Your answer to that.
Antonio is a good man.
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, upon 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
20and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves, I
mean pirates, and then there is the peril of waters,
winds and rocks. The man is, notwithstanding,
sufficient. Three thousand ducats; I think I may
take his bond.
good man, is to haue you vnderstand me that he is sufficient,
yet his meanes are in supposition: he hath an Argosie
bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies, I vnderstand
moreouer vpon the Ryalta, he hath a third at Mexico,
a fourth for England, and other ventures hee hath
squandred abroad, but ships are but boords, Saylers but
men, there be land rats, and water rats, water theeues,
and land theeues, I meane Pyrats, and then there is the
perrill of waters, windes, and rocks: the man is not withstanding
sufficient, three thousand ducats, I thinke I may
take his bond
Be assured you may.
I will be assured I may; and, that I may be assured,
I will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio?
I will bethinke mee, may I speake with Anthonio?
If it please you to dine with us.
Yes, to smell pork; to eat of the habitation which
30your prophet the Nazarite conjured the devil into. I
will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you,
walk with you, and so following, but I will not eat
with you, drink with you, nor pray with you. What
news on the Rialto? Who is he comes here?
which your Prophet the Nazarite coniured the diuell
into: I will buy with you, sell with you, talke with
you, walke with you, and so following: but I will
not eate with you, drinke with you, nor pray with you.
What newes on the Ryalta, who is he comes here?
Enter Antonio
This is Signior Antonio.
Enter Anthonio.
[Aside] How like a fawning publican he looks!
I hate him for he is a Christian,
But more for that in low simplicity
He lends out money gratis and brings down
40The rate of usance here with us in Venice.
If I can catch him once upon the hip,
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
He hates our sacred nation, and he rails,
Even there where merchants most do congregate,
On me, my bargains and my well-won thrift,
Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe,
If I forgive him!
I hate him for he is a Christian:
But more, for that in low simplicitie
He lends out money gratis, and brings downe
The rate of vsance here with vs in Venice.
If I can catch him once vpon the hip,
I will feede fat the ancient grudge I beare him.
He hates our sacred Nation, and he railes
Euen there where Merchants most doe congregate
On me, my bargaines, and my well-worne thrift,
Which he cals interrest: Cursed by my Trybe
If I forgiue him
Shylock, do you hear?
I am debating of my present store,
50And, by the near guess of my memory,
I cannot instantly raise up the gross
Of full three thousand ducats. What of that?
Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe,
Will furnish me. But soft! how many months
Do you desire?
To Antonio
Rest you fair, good signior;
Your worship was the last man in our mouths.
And by the neere gesse of my memorie
I cannot instantly raise vp the grosse
Of full three thousand ducats: what of that?
Tuball a wealthy Hebrew of my Tribe
Will furnish me: but soft, how many months
Doe you desire? Rest you faire good signior,
Your worship was the last man in our mouthes
Shylock, although I neither lend nor borrow
By taking nor by giving of excess,
60Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend,
I'll break a custom. Is he yet possess'd
How much ye would?
By taking, nor by giuing of excesse,
Yet to supply the ripe wants of my friend,
Ile breake a custome: is he yet possest
How much he would?
Ay, ay, three thousand ducats.
And for three months.
I had forgot; three months; you told me so.
Well then, your bond; and let me see; but hear you;
Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow
Upon advantage.
Well then, your bond: and let me see, but heare you,
Me thoughts you said, you neither lend nor borrow
Vpon aduantage
I do never use it.
When Jacob grazed his uncle Laban's sheep--
This Jacob from our holy Abram was,
As his wise mother wrought in his behalf,
The third possessor; ay, he was the third--
This Iacob from our holy Abram was
(As his wise mother wrought in his behalfe)
The third possesser; I, he was the third
And what of him? did he take interest?
No, not take interest, not, as you would say,
Directly interest: mark what Jacob did.
When Laban and himself were compromised
That all the eanlings which were streak'd and pied
Should fall as Jacob's hire, the ewes, being rank,
80In the end of autumn turned to the rams,
And, when the work of generation was
Between these woolly breeders in the act,
The skilful shepherd peel'd me certain wands,
And, in the doing of the deed of kind,
He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes,
Who then conceiving did in eaning time
Fall parti-colour'd lambs, and those were Jacob's.
This was a way to thrive, and he was blest:
And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not.
Directly interest, marke what Iacob did,
When Laban and himselfe were compremyz'd
That all the eanelings which were streakt and pied
Should fall as Iacobs hier, the Ewes being rancke,
In end of Autumne turned to the Rammes,
And when the worke of generation was
Betweene these woolly breeders in the act,
The skilfull shepheard pil'd me certaine wands,
And in the dooing of the deede of kinde,
He stucke them vp before the fulsome Ewes,
Who then conceauing, did in eaning time
Fall party-colour'd lambs, and those were Iacobs.
This was a way to thriue, and he was blest:
And thrift is blessing if men steale it not
This was a venture, sir, that Jacob served for;
A thing not in his power to bring to pass,
But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heaven.
Was this inserted to make interest good?
Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams?
A thing not in his power to bring to passe,
But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heauen.
Was this inserted to make interrest good?
Or is your gold and siluer Ewes and Rams?
I cannot tell; I make it breed as fast:
But note me, signior.
But note me signior
Mark you this, Bassanio,
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.
An evil soul producing holy witness
100Is like a villain with a smiling cheek,
A goodly apple rotten at the heart:
O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!
The diuell can cite Scripture for his purpose,
An euill soule producing holy witnesse,
Is like a villaine with a smiling cheeke,
A goodly apple rotten at the heart.
O what a goodly outside falsehood hath
Three thousand ducats; 'tis a good round sum.
Three months from twelve; then, let me see; the rate--
Three months from twelue, then let me see the rate
Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you?
Signior Antonio, many a time and oft
In the Rialto you have rated me
About my moneys and my usances:
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug,
110For sufferance 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 moneys:' you say so;
You, that did void your rheum upon my beard
And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur
Over your threshold: moneys is your suit
120What 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 whispering humbleness, Say this;
'Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last;
You spurn'd me such a day; another time
You call'd me dog; and for these courtesies
I'll lend you thus much moneys'?
In the Ryalto you haue rated me
About my monies and my vsances:
Still haue I borne it with a patient shrug,
(For suffrance is the badge of all our Tribe.)
You call me misbeleeuer, cut-throate dog,
And spet vpon my Iewish gaberdine,
And all for vse of that which is mine owne.
Well then, it now appeares you neede my helpe:
Goe to then, you come to me, and you say,
Shylocke, we would haue moneyes, you say so:
You that did voide your rume vpon my beard,
And foote me as you spurne a stranger curre
Ouer your threshold, moneyes is your suite.
What should I say to you? Should I not say,
Hath a dog money? Is it possible
A curre should lend three thousand ducats? or
Shall I bend low, and in a bond-mans key
With bated breath, and whispring humblenesse,
Say this: Faire sir, you spet on me on Wednesday last;
You spurn'd me such a day; another time
You cald me dog: and for these curtesies
Ile lend you thus much moneyes
I am as like to call thee so again,
130To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too.
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not
As to thy friends; for when did friendship take
A breed for barren metal of his friend?
But lend it rather to thine enemy,
Who, if he break, thou mayst with better face
Exact the penalty.
To spet on thee againe, to spurne thee too.
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not
As to thy friends, for when did friendship take
A breede of barraine mettall of his friend?
But lend it rather to thine enemie,
Who if he breake, thou maist with better face
Exact the penalties
Why, look you, how you storm!
I would be friends with you and have your love,
Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with,
140Supply your present wants and take no doit
Of usance for my moneys, and you'll not hear me:
This is kind I offer.
I would be friends with you, and haue your loue,
Forget the shames that you haue staind me with,
Supplie your present wants, and take no doite
Of vsance for my moneyes, and youle not heare me,
This is kinde I offer
This were kindness.
This kindness will I show.
Go with me to a notary, seal me there
Your single bond; and, in a merry sport,
If you repay me not on such a day,
In such a place, such sum or sums as are
Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit
150Be nominated for an equal pound
Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken
In what part of your body pleaseth me.
Goe with me to a Notarie, seale me there
Your single bond, and in a merrie sport
If you repaie me not on such a day,
In such a place, such sum or sums as are
Exprest in the condition, let the forfeite
Be nominated for an equall pound
Of your faire flesh, to be cut off and taken
In what part of your bodie it pleaseth me
Content, i' faith: I'll seal to such a bond
And say there is much kindness in the Jew.
And say there is much kindnesse in the Iew
You shall not seal to such a bond for me:
I'll rather dwell in my necessity.
Ile rather dwell in my necessitie
Why, fear not, man; I will not forfeit it:
Within these two months, that's a month before
This bond expires, I do expect return
160Of thrice three times the value of this bond.
Within these two months, that's a month before
This bond expires, I doe expect returne
Of thrice three times the valew of this bond
O father Abram, what these Christians are,
Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect
The thoughts of others! Pray you, tell me this;
If he should break his day, what should I gain
By the exaction of the forfeiture?
A pound of man's flesh taken from a man
Is not so estimable, profitable neither,
As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say,
To buy his favour, I extend this friendship:
170If he will take it, so; if not, adieu;
And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not.
Whose owne hard dealings teaches them suspect
The thoughts of others: Praie you tell me this,
If he should breake his daie, what should I gaine
By the exaction of the forfeiture?
A pound of mans flesh taken from a man,
Is not so estimable, profitable neither
As flesh of Muttons, Beefes, or Goates, I say
To buy his fauour, I extend this friendship,
If he will take it, so: if not adiew,
And for my loue I praie you wrong me not
Yes Shylock, I will seal unto this bond.
Then meet me forthwith at the notary's;
Give him direction for this merry bond,
And I will go and purse the ducats straight,
See to my house, left in the fearful guard
Of an unthrifty knave, and presently
I will be with you.
Giue him direction for this merrie bond,
And I will goe and purse the ducats straite.
See to my house left in the fearefull gard
Of an vnthriftie knaue: and presentlie
Ile be with you.
Exit.
Hie thee, gentle Jew.
Exit Shylock
The Hebrew will turn Christian: he grows kind.
Christian, he growes kinde
I like not fair terms and a villain's mind.
Come on: in this there can be no dismay;
My ships come home a month before the day.
Exeunt
My Shippes come home a month before the daie.
Exeunt.
Actus Secundus.
Enter Morochus a tawnie Moore all in white, and three or foure followers accordingly, with Portia, Nerrissa, and their traine. Flo. Cornets.
Act II
Act II. Scene I. Belmont. A room in Portia's house.
Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Morocco and his train; Portia, Nerissa, and others attending
Mislike me not for my complexion,
The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun,
To whom I am a neighbour and near bred.
Bring me the fairest creature northward born,
Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles,
And let us make incision for your love,
To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine.
I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine
Hath fear'd the valiant: by my love I swear
10The best-regarded virgins of our clime
Have loved it too: I would not change this hue,
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen.
The shadowed liuerie of the burnisht sunne,
To whom I am a neighbour, and neere bred.
Bring me the fairest creature North-ward borne,
Where Phoebus fire scarce thawes the ysicles,
And let vs make incision for your loue,
To proue whose blood is reddest, his or mine.
I tell thee Ladie this aspect of mine
Hath feard the valiant, (by my loue I sweare)
The best regarded Virgins of our Clyme
Haue lou'd it to: I would not change this hue,
Except to steale your thoughts my gentle Queene
In terms of choice I am not solely led
By nice direction of a maiden's eyes;
Besides, the lottery of my destiny
Bars me the right of voluntary choosing:
But if my father had not scanted me
And hedged me by his wit, to yield myself
His wife who wins me by that means I told you,
20Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair
As any comer I have look'd on yet
For my affection.
By nice direction of a maidens eies:
Besides, the lottrie of my destenie
Bars me the right of voluntarie choosing:
But if my Father had not scanted me,
And hedg'd me by his wit to yeelde my selfe
His wife, who wins me by that meanes I told you,
Your selfe (renowned Prince) than stood as faire
As any commer I haue look'd on yet
For my affection
Even for that I thank you:
Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets
To try my fortune. By this scimitar
That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,
I would outstare the sternest eyes that look,
Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth,
30Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear,
Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey,
To win thee, lady. But, alas the while!
If Hercules and Lichas play at dice
Which is the better man, the greater throw
May turn by fortune from the weaker hand:
So is Alcides beaten by his page;
And so may I, blind fortune leading me,
Miss that which one unworthier may attain,
And die with grieving.
Therefore I pray you leade me to the Caskets
To trie my fortune: By this Symitare
That slew the Sophie, and a Persian Prince
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,
I would ore-stare the sternest eies that looke:
Out-braue the heart most daring on the earth:
Plucke the yong sucking Cubs from the she Beare,
Yea, mocke the Lion when he rores for pray
To win the Ladie. But alas, the while
If Hercules and Lychas plaie at dice
Which is the better man, the greater throw
May turne by fortune from the weaker hand:
So is Alcides beaten by his rage,
And so may I, blinde fortune leading me
Misse that which one vnworthier may attaine,
And die with grieuing
You must take your chance,
And either not attempt to choose at all
Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong
Never to speak to lady afterward
In way of marriage: therefore be advised.
And either not attempt to choose at all,
Or sweare before you choose, if you choose wrong
Neuer to speake to Ladie afterward
In way of marriage, therefore be aduis'd
Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my chance.
First, forward to the temple: after dinner
Your hazard shall be made.
Your hazard shall be made
Good fortune then!
To make me blest or cursed'st among men.
Cornets, and exeunt
Cornets.
To make me blest or cursed'st among men.
Exeunt.
Act II. Scene II. Venice. A street.
Enter Launcelot
Certainly my conscience will serve me to run from
this Jew my master. The fiend is at mine 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 Launcelot;
take heed, honest Gobbo, or, as aforesaid, 'honest
Launcelot Gobbo; do not run; scorn running with thy
heels.' Well, the most courageous fiend bids me
10pack: '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
grow to, he had a kind of taste; well, my conscience
says 'Launcelot, budge not.' 'Budge,' says the
fiend. 'Budge not,' says my conscience.
20'Conscience,' say I, 'you counsel well;' ' Fiend,'
say I, 'you counsel well:' to be ruled by my
conscience, I should stay with the Jew my master,
who, God bless the mark, 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
incarnal; 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 the more
30friendly counsel: I will run, fiend; my heels are
at your command; I will run.
Enter the Clowne alone.
from this Iew my Maister: the fiend is at mine elbow,
and tempts me, saying to me, Iobbe, Launcelet Iobbe, good
Launcelet, or good Iobbe, or good Launcelet Iobbe, vse
your legs, take the start, run awaie: my conscience saies
no; take heede honest Launcelet, take heed honest Iobbe,
or as afore-said honest Launcelet Iobbe, doe not runne,
scorne running with thy heeles; well, the most coragious
fiend bids me packe, fia saies the fiend, away saies
the fiend, for the heauens rouse vp a braue minde saies
the fiend, and run; well, my conscience hanging about
the necke of my heart, saies verie wisely to me: my honest
friend Launcelet, being an honest mans sonne, or rather
an honest womans sonne, for indeede my Father did
something smack, something grow too; he had a kinde of
taste; wel, my conscience saies Lancelet bouge not, bouge
saies the fiend, bouge not saies my conscience, conscience
say I you counsaile well, fiend say I you counsaile well,
to be rul'd by my conscience I should stay with the Iew
my Maister, (who God blesse the marke) is a kinde of diuell;
and to run away from the Iew I should be ruled by
the fiend, who sauing your reuerence is the diuell himselfe:
certainely the Iew is the verie diuell incarnation,
and in my conscience, my conscience is a kinde of hard
conscience, to offer to counsaile me to stay with the Iew;
the fiend giues the more friendly counsaile: I will runne
fiend, my heeles are at your commandement, I will
runne.
Enter Old Gobbo, with a basket
Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the way
to master Jew's?
Enter old Gobbe with a Basket.
waie to Maister Iewes?
[Aside] O heavens, this is my true-begotten father!
who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel blind,
knows me not: I will try confusions with him.
being more then sand-blinde, high grauel blinde, knows
me not, I will trie confusions with him
Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way
to master Jew's?
the waie to Maister Iewes
Turn up on your right hand at the next turning, but,
40at the next turning of all, on your left; marry, at
the very next turning, turn of no hand, but turn
down indirectly to the Jew's house.
but at the next turning of all on your left; marrie
at the verie next turning, turne of no hand, but turn down
indirectlie to the Iewes house
By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit. Can
you tell me whether one Launcelot,
that dwells with him, dwell with him or no?
you tell me whether one Launcelet that dwels with him
dwell with him or no
Talk you of young Master Launcelot?
Aside
Mark me now; now will I raise the waters. Talk you
of young Master Launcelot?
me now, now will I raise the waters; talke you of yong
Maister Launcelet?
No master, sir, but a poor man's son: his father,
50though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man
and, God be thanked, well to live.
though I say't is an honest exceeding poore man,
and God be thanked well to liue
Well, let his father be what a' will, we talk of
young Master Launcelot.
yong Maister Launcelet
Your worship's friend and Launcelot, sir.
But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you,
talk you of young Master Launcelot?
talke you of yong Maister Launcelet
Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership.
Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master
Launcelot, father; for the young gentleman,
60according to Fates and Destinies and such odd
sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of
learning, is indeed deceased, or, as you would say
in plain terms, gone to heaven.
Father, for the yong gentleman according to fates and
destinies, and such odde sayings, the sisters three, & such
branches of learning, is indeede deceased, or as you
would say in plaine tearmes, gone to heauen
Marry, God forbid! the boy was the very staff of my
age, my very prop.
of my age, my verie prop
Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or
a prop? Do you know me, father?
or a prop: doe you know me Father
Alack the day, I know you not, young gentleman:
but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy, God rest his
70soul, alive or dead?
but I praie you tell me, is my boy God rest his soule
aliue or dead
Do you not know me, father?
Alack, sir, I am sand-blind; I know you not.
Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might fail of
the knowing me: it is a wise father that knows his
own child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of
your son: give me your blessing: truth will come
to light; murder cannot be hid long; a man's son
may, but at the length truth will out.
faile of the knowing me: it is a wise Father that knowes
his owne childe. Well, old man, I will tell you newes of
your son, giue me your blessing, truth will come to light,
murder cannot be hid long, a mans sonne may, but in the
end truth will out
Pray you, sir, stand up: I am sure you are not
80Launcelot, my boy.
Lancelet my boy
Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but
give me your blessing: I am Launcelot, your boy
that was, your son that is, your child that shall
be.
it, but giue mee your blessing: I am Lancelet your
boy that was, your sonne that is, your childe that
shall be
I cannot think you are my son.
I know not what I shall think of that: but I am
Launcelot, the Jew's man, and I am sure Margery your
wife is my mother.
Lancelet the Iewes man, and I am sure Margerie your wife
is my mother
Her name is Margery, indeed: I'll be sworn, if thou
90be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood.
Lord worshipped might he be! what a beard hast thou
got! thou hast got more hair on thy chin than
Dobbin my fill-horse has on his tail.
thou be Lancelet, thou art mine owne flesh and blood:
Lord worshipt might he be, what a beard hast thou got;
thou hast got more haire on thy chin, then Dobbin my
philhorse has on his taile
It should seem, then, that Dobbin's tail grows
backward: I am sure he had more hair of his tail
than I have of my face when I last saw him.
growes backeward. I am sure he had more haire of his
taile then I haue of my face when I last saw him
Lord, how art thou changed! How dost thou and thy
master agree? I have brought him a present. How
'gree you now?
and thy Master agree, I haue brought him a present; how
gree you now?
Well, well: but, for mine own part, as I have set
up my rest to run away, so I will not rest till I
have run some ground. My master's a very Jew: give
him a present! give him a halter: I am famished in
his service; you may tell every finger I have with
my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come: give me
your present to one Master Bassanio, who, indeed,
gives rare new liveries: if I serve not him, I
will run as far as God has any ground. O rare
fortune! here comes the man: to him, father; for I
110am a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer.
vp my rest to run awaie, so I will not rest till I haue run
some ground; my Maister's a verie Iew, giue him a present,
giue him a halter, I am famisht in his seruice. You
may tell euerie finger I haue with my ribs: Father I am
glad you are come, giue me your present to one Maister
Bassanio, who indeede giues rare new Liuories, if I serue
not him, I will run as far as God has anie ground. O rare
fortune, here comes the man, to him Father, for I am a
Iew if I serue the Iew anie longer.
Enter Bassanio, with Leonardo and other followers
You may do so; but let it be so hasted that supper
be ready at the farthest by five of the clock. See
these letters delivered; put the liveries to making,
and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging.
Exit a Servant
Enter Bassanio with a follower or two.
supper be readie at the farthest by fiue of the clocke:
see these Letters deliuered, put the Liueries to making,
and desire Gratiano to come anone to my lodging
To him, father.
God bless your worship!
Gramercy! wouldst thou aught with me?
Here's my son, sir, a poor boy,--
Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man; that
120would, sir, as my father shall specify--
would sir as my Father shall specifie
He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to serve--
to serue
Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew,
and have a desire, as my father shall specify--
Iew, and haue a desire as my Father shall specifie
His master and he, saving your worship's reverence,
are scarce cater-cousins--
are scarce catercosins
To be brief, the very truth is that the Jew, having
done me wrong, doth cause me, as my father, being, I
hope, an old man, shall frutify unto you--
hauing done me wrong, doth cause me as my Father being
I hope an old man shall frutifie vnto you
I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow upon
130your worship, and my suit is--
vpon your worship, and my suite is
In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself, as
your worship shall know by this honest old man; and,
though I say it, though old man, yet poor man, my father.
selfe, as your worship shall know by this honest old man,
and though I say it, though old man, yet poore man my
Father
One speak for both. What would you?
Serve you, sir.
That is the very defect of the matter, sir.
I know thee well; thou hast obtain'd thy suit:
Shylock thy master spoke with me this day,
And hath preferr'd thee, if it be preferment
140To leave a rich Jew's service, to become
The follower of so poor a gentleman.
Shylocke thy Maister spoke with me this daie,
And hath prefer'd thee, if it be preferment
To leaue a rich Iewes seruice, to become
The follower of so poore a Gentleman
The old proverb is very well parted between my
master Shylock and you, sir: you have the grace of
God, sir, and he hath enough.
my Maister Shylocke and you sir, you haue the grace of
God sir, and he hath enough
Thou speak'st it well. Go, father, with thy son.
Take leave of thy old master and inquire
My lodging out. Give him a livery
More guarded than his fellows': see it done.
Take leaue of thy old Maister, and enquire
My lodging out, giue him a Liuerie
More garded then his fellowes: see it done
Father, in. I cannot get a service, no; I have
150ne'er a tongue in my head. Well, if any man in
Italy have a fairer table which doth offer to swear
upon a book, I shall have good fortune. Go to,
here's a simple line of life: here's a small trifle
of wives: alas, fifteen wives is nothing! eleven
widows and nine maids is a simple coming-in for one
man: and then to 'scape drowning thrice, and to be
in peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed;
here are simple scapes. Well, if Fortune be a
woman, she's a good wench for this gear. Father,
160come; I'll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye.
Exeunt Launcelot and Old Gobbo
a tongue in my head, well: if anie man in Italie haue a
fairer table which doth offer to sweare vpon a booke, I
shall haue good fortune; goe too, here's a simple line
of life, here's a small trifle of wiues, alas, fifteene wiues
is nothing, a leuen widdowes and nine maides is a simple
comming in for one man, and then to scape drowning
thrice, and to be in perill of my life with the edge
of a featherbed, here are simple scapes: well, if Fortune
be a woman, she's a good wench for this gere: Father
come, Ile take my leaue of the Iew in the twinkling.
Exit Clowne.
I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this:
These things being bought and orderly bestow'd,
Return in haste, for I do feast toight
My best-esteem'd acquaintance: hie thee, go.
These things being bought and orderly bestowed
Returne in haste, for I doe feast to night
My best esteemd acquaintance, hie thee goe
My best endeavours shall be done herein.
Exit Le.
Enter Gratiano
Where is your master?
Enter Gratiano.
Yonder, sir, he walks.
Exit
Signior Bassanio!
Gratiano!
I have a suit to you.
You have obtain'd it.
You must not deny me: I must go with you to Belmont.
Belmont
Why then you must. But hear thee, Gratiano;
Thou art too wild, too rude and bold of voice;
Parts that become thee happily enough
And in such eyes as ours appear not faults;
But where thou art not known, why, there they show
Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain
To allay with some cold drops of modesty
180Thy skipping spirit, lest through thy wild behavior
I be misconstrued in the place I go to,
And lose my hopes.
Thou art to wilde, to rude, and bold of voyce,
Parts that become thee happily enough,
And in such eyes as ours appeare not faults;
But where they are not knowne, why there they show
Something too liberall, pray thee take paine
To allay with some cold drops of modestie
Thy skipping spirit, least through thy wilde behauiour
I be misconsterd in the place I goe to,
And loose my hopes
Signior Bassanio, hear me:
If I do not put on a sober habit,
Talk with respect and swear but now and then,
Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely,
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat, and sigh and say 'amen,'
Use all the observance of civility,
190Like one well studied in a sad ostent
To please his grandam, never trust me more.
If I doe not put on a sober habite,
Talke with respect, and sweare but now and than,
Weare prayer bookes in my pocket, looke demurely,
Nay more, while grace is saying hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat, and sigh and say Amen:
Vse all the obseruance of ciuillitie
Like one well studied in a sad ostent
To please his Grandam, neuer trust me more
Well, we shall see your bearing.
Nay, but I bar toight: you shall not gauge me
By what we do toight.
By what we doe to night
No, that were pity:
I would entreat you rather to put on
Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends
That purpose merriment. But fare you well:
I have some business.
I would intreate you rather to put on
Your boldest suite of mirth, for we haue friends
That purpose merriment: but far you well,
I haue some businesse
And I must to Lorenzo and the rest:
But we will visit you at supper-time.
Exeunt
But we will visite you at supper time.
Exeunt.
Act II. Scene III. The same. A room in Shylock's house.
Enter Jessica and Launcelot
I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so:
Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil,
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness.
But fare thee well, there is a ducat for thee:
And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest:
Give him this letter; do it secretly;
And so farewell: I would not have my father
See me in talk with thee.
Enter Iessica and the Clowne.
Our house is hell, and thou a merrie diuell
Did'st rob it of some taste of tediousnesse;
But far thee well, there is a ducat for thee,
And Lancelet, soone at supper shalt thou see
Lorenzo, who is thy new Maisters guest,
Giue him this Letter, doe it secretly,
And so farewell: I would not haue my Father
see me talke with thee
Adieu! tears exhibit my tongue. Most beautiful
pagan, most sweet Jew! if a Christian did not play
the knave and get thee, I am much deceived. But,
adieu: these foolish drops do something drown my
manly spirit: adieu.
Pagan, most sweete Iew, if a Christian doe not play the
knaue and get thee, I am much deceiued; but adue, these
foolish drops doe somewhat drowne my manly spirit:
adue.
Exit.
Farewell, good Launcelot.
Exit Launcelot
Alack, what heinous sin is it in me
To be ashamed to be my father's child!
But though I am a daughter to his blood,
I am not to his manners. O Lorenzo,
20If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife,
Become a Christian and thy loving wife.
Exit
Alacke, what hainous sinne is it in me
To be ashamed to be my Fathers childe,
But though I am a daughter to his blood,
I am not to his manners: O Lorenzo,
If thou keepe promise I shall end this strife,
Become a Christian, and thy louing wife.
Exit.
Act II. Scene IV. The same. A street.
Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio
Nay, we will slink away in supper-time,
Disguise us at my lodging and return,
All in an hour.
Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio.
Disguise vs at my lodging, and returne all in an houre
We have not made good preparation.
We have not spoke us yet of torchbearers.
'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order'd,
And better in my mind not undertook.
And better in my minde not vndertooke
'Tis now but four o'clock: we have two hours
To furnish us.
Enter Launcelot, with a letter
Friend Launcelot, what's the news?
To furnish vs; friend Lancelet what's the newes.
An it shall please you to break up
this, it shall seem to signify.
Enter Lancelet with a Letter.
seeme to signifie
I know the hand: in faith, 'tis a fair hand;
And whiter than the paper it writ on
Is the fair hand that writ.
And whiter then the paper it writ on,
Is the faire hand that writ
Love-news, in faith.
By your leave, sir.
Whither goest thou?
Marry, sir, to bid my old master the
20Jew to sup toight with my new master the Christian.
to night with my new Master the Christian
Hold here, take this: tell gentle Jessica
I will not fail her; speak it privately.
Go, gentlemen,
Exit Launcelot
Will you prepare you for this masque tonight?
I am provided of a torch-bearer.
I will not faile her, speake it priuately:
Go Gentlemen, will you prepare you for this Maske to
night,
I am prouided of a Torch-bearer.
Exit. Clowne
Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it straight.
And so will I.
Meet me and Gratiano
At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence.
Some houre hence
'Tis good we do so.
Exeunt Salarino and Salanio
Exit.
Was not that letter from fair Jessica?
I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed
How I shall take her from her father's house,
What gold and jewels she is furnish'd with,
What page's suit she hath in readiness.
If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven,
It will be for his gentle daughter's sake:
And never dare misfortune cross her foot,
Unless she do it under this excuse,
40That she is issue to a faithless Jew.
Come, go with me; peruse this as thou goest:
Fair Jessica shall be my torch-beare r.
Exeunt
How I shall take her from her Fathers house,
What gold and iewels she is furnisht with,
What Pages suite she hath in readinesse:
If ere the Iew her Father come to heauen,
It will be for his gentle daughters sake;
And neuer dare misfortune crosse her foote,
Vnlesse she doe it vnder this excuse,
That she is issue to a faithlesse Iew:
Come goe with me, pervse this as thou goest,
Faire Iessica shall be my Torch-bearer.
Exit.
Act II. Scene V. The same. Before Shylock's house.
Enter Shylock and Launcelot
Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge,
The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio:--
What, Jessica!--thou shalt not gormandise,
As thou hast done with me:--What, Jessica!--
And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out;--
Why, Jessica, I say!
Enter Iew, and his man that was the Clowne.
The difference of old Shylocke and Bassanio;
What Iessica, thou shalt not gurmandize
As thou hast done with me: what Iessica?
And sleepe, and snore, and rend apparrell out.
Why Iessica I say
Why, Jessica!
Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call.
Your worship was wont to tell me that
10I could do nothing without bidding.
I could doe nothing without bidding.
Enter Jessica
Call you? what is your will?
Enter Iessica.
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 toight.
There are my Keyes: but wherefore should I go?
I am not bid for loue, they flatter me,
But yet Ile goe in hate, to feede vpon
The prodigall Christian. Iessica my girle,
Looke to my house, I am right loath to goe,
There is some ill a bruing towards my rest,
For I did dreame of money bags to night
I beseech you, sir, go: my young master doth expect
your reproach.
Doth expect your reproach
So do I his.
An 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' the morning,
falling out that year on Ash-Wednesday was four
year, in the afternoon.
you shall see a Maske, but if you doe, then it was not for
nothing that my nose fell a bleeding on blacke monday
last, at six a clocke ith morning, falling out that yeere on
ashwensday was foure yeere in th' afternoone
What, are there masques? Hear you me, Jessica:
30Lock 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 foppery enter
My sober house. By Jacob's staff, I swear,
I have no mind of feasting forth toight:
But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah;
40Say I will come.
Lock vp my doores, and when you heare the drum
And the vile squealing of the wry-neckt Fife,
Clamber not you vp to the casements then,
Nor thrust your head into the publique streete
To gaze on Christian fooles with varnisht faces:
But stop my houses eares, I meane my casements,
Let not the sound of shallow fopperie enter
My sober house. By Iacobs staffe I sweare,
I haue no minde of feasting forth to night:
But I will goe: goe you before me sirra,
Say I will come
I will go before, sir. Mistress, look out at
window, for all this, There will come a Christian
boy, will be worth a Jewess' eye.
Exit
Mistris looke out at window for all this;
There will come a Christian by,
Will be worth a Iewes eye
What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha?
ha
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
50To one that would have him help to waste
His borrow'd 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.
Exit
Snaile-slow in profit, but he sleepes by day
More then the wilde-cat: drones hiue not with me,
Therefore I part with him, and part with him
To one that I would haue him helpe to waste
His borrowed purse. Well Iessica goe in,
Perhaps I will returne immediately;
Doe as I bid you, shut dores after you, fast binde, fast
finde,
A prouerbe neuer stale in thriftie minde.
Exit.
Farewell; and if my fortune be not crost,
I have a father, you a daughter, lost.
Exit
I haue a Father, you a daughter lost.
Exit.
Act II. Scene VI. The same.
Enter Gratiano and Salarino, masqued
This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo
Desired us to make stand.
Enter the Maskers, Gratiano and Salino.
Desired vs to make a stand
His hour is almost past.
And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour,
For lovers ever run before the clock.
For louers euer run before the clocke
O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly
To seal love's bonds new-made, than they are wont
To keep obliged faith unforfeited!
To steale loues bonds new made, then they are wont
To keepe obliged faith vnforfaited
That ever holds: who riseth from a feast
10With that keen appetite that he sits down?
Where is the horse that doth untread again
His tedious measures with the unbated fire
That he did pace them first? All things that are,
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd.
How like a younker or a prodigal
The scarfed bark puts from her native bay,
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind!
How like the prodigal doth she return,
With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails,
20Lean, rent and beggar'd by the strumpet wind!
With that keene appetite that he sits downe?
Where is the horse that doth vntread againe
His tedious measures with the vnbated fire,
That he did pace them first: all things that are,
Are with more spirit chased then enioy'd.
How like a yonger or a prodigall
The skarfed barke puts from her natiue bay,
Hudg'd and embraced by the strumpet winde:
How like a prodigall doth she returne
With ouer-wither'd ribs and ragged sailes,
Leane, rent, and begger'd by the strumpet winde?
Here comes Lorenzo: more of this hereafter.
Enter Lorenzo
Enter Lorenzo.
Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode;
Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait:
When you shall please to play the thieves for wives,
I'll watch as long for you then. Approach;
Here dwells my father Jew. Ho! who's within?
Not I, but my affaires haue made you wait;
When you shall please to play the theeues for wiues
Ile watch as long for you then: approach
Here dwels my father Iew. Hoa, who's within?
Iessica aboue.
Enter Jessica, above, in boy's clothes
Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty,
Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue.
Albeit Ile sweare that I do know your tongue
Lorenzo, and thy love.
Lorenzo, certain, and my love indeed,
For who love I so much? And now who knows
But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours?
For who loue I so much? and now who knowes
But you Lorenzo, whether I am yours?
Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art.
art
Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains.
I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me,
For I am much ashamed of my exchange:
But love is blind and lovers cannot see
The pretty follies that themselves commit;
For if they could, Cupid himself would blush
40To see me thus transformed to a boy.
I am glad 'tis night, you do not looke on me,
For I am much asham'd of my exchange:
But loue is blinde, and louers cannot see
The pretty follies that themselues commit,
For if they could, Cupid himselfe would blush
To see me thus transformed to a boy
Descend, for you must be my torchbearer.
What, must I hold a candle to my shames?
They in themselves, good-sooth, are too too light.
Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love;
And I should be obscured.
They in themselues goodsooth are too too light.
Why, 'tis an office of discouery Loue,
And I should be obscur'd
So are you, sweet,
Even in the lovely garnish of a boy.
But come at once;
For the close night doth play the runaway,
50And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast.
Euen in the louely garnish of a boy: but come at once,
For the close night doth play the run-away,
And we are staid for at Bassanio's feast
I will make fast the doors, and gild myself
With some more ducats, and be with you straight.
Exit above
With some more ducats, and be with you straight
Now, by my hood, a Gentile and no Jew.
Beshrew me but I love her heartily;
For she is wise, if I can judge of her,
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true,
And true she is, as she hath proved herself,
And therefore, like herself, wise, fair and true,
Shall she be placed in my constant soul.
Enter Jessica, below
What, art thou come? On, gentlemen; away!
Our masquing mates by this time for us stay.
Exit with Jessica and Salarino
For she is wise, if I can iudge of her.
And faire she is, if that mine eyes be true,
And true she is, as she hath prou'd her selfe:
And therefore like her selfe, wise, faire, and true,
Shall she be placed in my constant soule.
What, art thou come? on gentlemen, away,
Enter Iessica.
Our masking mates by this time for vs stay.
Exit.
Enter Antonio
Who's there?
Enter Anthonio.
Signior Antonio!
Fie, fie, Gratiano! where are all the rest?
'Tis nine o'clock: our friends all stay for you.
No masque toight: the wind is come about;
Bassanio presently will go aboard:
I have sent twenty out to seek for you.
'Tis nine a clocke, our friends all stay for you,
No maske to night, the winde is come about,
Bassanio presently will goe aboord,
I haue sent twenty out to seeke for you
I am glad on't: I desire no more delight
70Than to be under sail and gone toight.
Exeunt
Then to be vnder saile, and gone to night.
Exeunt.
Act II. Scene VII. Belmont. A room in Portia's house.
Flourish of cornets. Enter Portia, with the Prince of Morocco, and their trains
Go draw aside the curtains and discover
The several caskets to this noble prince.
Now make your choice.
Enter Portia with Morrocho, and both their traines.
The seuerall Caskets to this noble Prince:
Now make your choyse
The first, of gold, who this inscription bears,
'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire;'
The second, silver, which this promise carries,
'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves;'
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt,
'Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.'
10How shall I know if I do choose the right?
Who chooseth me, shall gaine what men desire.
The second siluer, which this promise carries,
Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserues.
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt,
Who chooseth me, must giue and hazard all he hath.
How shall I know if I doe choose the right?
The one of them contains my picture, prince:
If you choose that, then I am yours withal.
If you choose that, then I am yours withall
Some god direct my judgment! Let me see;
I will survey the inscriptions back again.
What says this leaden casket?
'Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.'
Must give: for what? for lead? hazard for lead?
This casket threatens. Men that hazard all
Do it in hope of fair advantages:
20A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross;
I'll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead.
What says the silver with her virgin hue?
'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.'
As much as he deserves! Pause there, Morocco,
And weigh thy value with an even hand:
If thou be'st rated by thy estimation,
Thou dost deserve enough; and yet enough
May not extend so far as to the lady:
And yet to be afeard of my deserving
30Were but a weak disabling of myself.
As much as I deserve! Why, that's the lady:
I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes,
In graces and in qualities of breeding;
But more than these, in love I do deserve.
What if I stray'd no further, but chose here?
Let's see once more this saying graved in gold
'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.'
Why, that's the lady; all the world desires her;
From the four corners of the earth they come,
40To kiss this shrine, this mortal-breathing saint:
The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds
Of wide Arabia are as thoroughfares now
For princes to come view fair Portia:
The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head
Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar
To stop the foreign spirits, but they come,
As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia.
One of these three contains her heavenly picture.
Is't like that lead contains her? 'Twere damnation
50To think so base a thought: it were too gross
To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave.
Or shall I think in silver she's immured,
Being ten times undervalued to tried gold?
O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem
Was set in worse than gold. They have in England
A coin that bears the figure of an angel
Stamped in gold, but that's insculp'd upon;
But here an angel in a golden bed
Lies all within. Deliver me the key:
60Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may!
I will suruay the inscriptions, backe againe:
What saies this leaden casket?
Who chooseth me, must giue and hazard all he hath.
Must giue, for what? for lead, hazard for lead?
This casket threatens men that hazard all
Doe it in hope of faire aduantages:
A golden minde stoopes not to showes of drosse,
Ile then nor giue nor hazard ought for lead.
What saies the Siluer with her virgin hue?
Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserues.
As much as he deserues; pause there Morocho,
And weigh thy value with an euen hand,
If thou beest rated by thy estimation
Thou doost deserue enough, and yet enough
May not extend so farre as to the Ladie:
And yet to be afeard of my deseruing,
Were but a weake disabling of my selfe.
As much as I deserue, why that's the Lady.
I doe in birth deserue her, and in fortunes,
In graces, and in qualities of breeding:
But more then these, in loue I doe deserue.
What if I strai'd no farther, but chose here?
Let's see once more this saying grau'd in gold.
Who chooseth me shall gaine what many men desire:
Why that's the Lady, all the world desires her:
From the foure corners of the earth they come
To kisse this shrine, this mortall breathing Saint.
The Hircanion deserts, and the vaste wildes
Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now
For Princes to come view faire Portia.
The waterie Kingdome, whose ambitious head
Spets in the face of heauen, is no barre
To stop the forraine spirits, but they come
As ore a brooke to see faire Portia.
One of these three containes her heauenly picture.
Is't like that Lead containes her? 'twere damnation
To thinke so base a thought, it were too grose
To rib her searecloath in the obscure graue:
Or shall I thinke in Siluer she's immur'd
Being ten times vndervalued to tride gold;
O sinfull thought, neuer so rich a Iem
Was set in worse then gold! They haue in England
A coyne that beares the figure of an Angell
Stampt in gold, but that's insculpt vpon:
But here an Angell in a golden bed
Lies all within. Deliuer me the key:
Here doe I choose, and thriue I as I may
There, take it, prince; and if my form lie there,
Then I am yours.
He unlocks the golden casket
Then I am yours
O hell! what have we here?
A carrion Death, within whose empty eye
There is a written scroll! I'll read the writing.
Reads
All that glitters is not gold;
Often have you heard that told:
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold:
Gilded tombs do worms enfold.
Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgment old,
Your answer had not been inscroll'd:
Fare you well; your suit is cold.
Cold, indeed; and labour lost:
Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost!
Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart
To take a tedious leave: thus losers part.
Exit with his train. Flourish of cornets
Within whose emptie eye there is a written scroule;
Ile reade the writing.
All that glisters is not gold,
Often haue you heard that told;
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold;
Guilded timber doe wormes infold:
Had you beene as wise as bold,
Yong in limbs, in iudgement old,
Your answere had not beene inscrold,
Fareyouwell, your suite is cold,
Cold indeede, and labour lost,
Then farewell heate, and welcome frost:
Portia adew, I haue too grieu'd a heart
To take a tedious leaue: thus loosers part.
Exit.
A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go.
Let all of his complexion choose me so.
Exeunt
Let all of his complexion choose me so.
Exeunt.
Act II. Scene VIII. Venice. A street.
Enter Salarino and Salanio
Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail:
With him is Gratiano gone along;
And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not.
Enter Salarino and Solanio
Flo. Cornets
With him is Gratiano gone along;
And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not
The villain Jew with outcries raised the duke,
Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship.
Who went with him to search Bassanios ship
He came too late, the ship was under sail:
But there the duke was given to understand
That in a gondola were seen together
Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica:
10Besides, Antonio certified the duke
They were not with Bassanio in his ship.
But there the Duke was giuen to vnderstand
That in a Gondilo were seene together
Lorenzo and his amorous Iessica.
Besides, Anthonio certified the Duke
They were not with Bassanio in his ship
I never heard a passion so confused,
So strange, outrageous, and so variable,
As the dog Jew did utter in the streets:
'My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter!
Fled with a Christian! O my Christian ducats!
Justice! the law! my ducats, and my daughter!
A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats,
Of double ducats, stolen from me by my daughter!
20And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones,
Stolen by my daughter! Justice! find the girl;
She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats.'
So strange, outragious, and so variable,
As the dogge Iew did vtter in the streets;
My daughter, O my ducats, O my daughter,
Fled with a Christian, O my Christian ducats!
Iustice, the law, my ducats, and my daughter;
A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats,
Of double ducats, stolne from me by my daughter,
And iewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones,
Stolne by my daughter: iustice, finde the girle,
She hath the stones vpon her, and the ducats
Why, all the boys in Venice follow him,
Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats.
Crying his stones, his daughter, and his ducats
Let good Antonio look he keep his day,
Or he shall pay for this.
Or he shall pay for this
Marry, well remember'd.
I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday,
Who told me, in the narrow seas that part
30The French and English, there miscarried
A vessel of our country richly fraught:
I thought upon Antonio when he told me;
And wish'd in silence that it were not his.
I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday,
Who told me, in the narrow seas that part
The French and English, there miscaried
A vessell of our countrey richly fraught:
I thought vpon Anthonio when he told me,
And wisht in silence that it were not his
You were best to tell Antonio what you hear;
Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him.
Yet doe not suddainely, for it may grieue him
A kinder gentleman treads not the earth.
I saw Bassanio and Antonio part:
Bassanio told him he would make some speed
Of his return: he answer'd, 'Do not so;
40Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio
But stay the very riping of the time;
And for the Jew's bond which he hath of me,
Let it not enter in your mind of love:
Be merry, and employ your chiefest thoughts
To courtship and such fair ostents of love
As shall conveniently become you there:'
And even there, his eye being big with tears,
Turning his face, he put his hand behind him,
And with affection wondrous sensible
50He wrung Bassanio's hand; and so they parted.
I saw Bassanio and Anthonio part,
Bassanio told him he would make some speede
Of his returne: he answered, doe not so,
Slubber not businesse for my sake Bassanio,
But stay the very riping of the time,
And for the Iewes bond which he hath of me,
Let it not enter in your minde of loue:
Be merry, and imploy your chiefest thoughts
To courtship, and such faire ostents of loue
As shall conueniently become you there;
And euen there his eye being big with teares,
Turning his face, he put his hand behinde him,
And with affection wondrous sencible
He wrung Bassanios hand, and so they parted
I think he only loves the world for him.
I pray thee, let us go and find him out
And quicken his embraced heaviness
With some delight or other.
I pray thee let vs goe and finde him out
And quicken his embraced heauinesse
With some delight or other
Do we so.
Exeunt
Exeunt.
Act II. Scene IX. Belmont. A room in Portia's house.
Enter Nerissa with a Servitor
Quick, quick, I pray thee; draw the curtain straight:
The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath,
And comes to his election presently.
Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Arragon, Portia, and their trains
Enter Nerrissa and a Seruiture.
The Prince of Arragon hath tane his oath,
And comes to his election presently.
Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince:
If you choose that wherein I am contain'd,
Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemnized:
But if you fail, without more speech, my lord,
You must be gone from hence immediately.
Enter Arragon, his traine, and Portia. Flor. Cornets.
If you choose that wherein I am contain'd,
Straight shall our nuptiall rights be solemniz'd:
But if thou faile, without more speech my Lord,
You must be gone from hence immediately
I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things:
10First, never to unfold to any one
Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I fail
Of the right casket, never in my life
To woo a maid in way of marriage: Lastly,
If I do fail in fortune of my choice,
Immediately to leave you and be gone.
First, neuer to vnfold to any one
Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I faile
Of the right casket, neuer in my life
To wooe a maide in way of marriage:
Lastly, if I doe faile in fortune of my choyse,
Immediately to leaue you, and be gone
To these injunctions every one doth swear
That comes to hazard for my worthless self.
That comes to hazard for my worthlesse selfe
And so have I address'd me. Fortune now
To my heart's hope! Gold; silver; and base lead.
20'Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.'
You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard.
What says the golden chest? ha! let me see:
'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.'
What many men desire! that 'many' may be meant
By the fool multitude, that choose by show,
Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach;
Which pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet,
Builds in the weather on the outward wall,
Even in the force and road of casualty.
30I will not choose what many men desire,
Because I will not jump with common spirits
And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.
Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house;
Tell me once more what title thou dost bear:
'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves:'
And well said too; for who shall go about
To cozen fortune and be honourable
Without the stamp of merit? Let none presume
To wear an undeserved dignity.
40O, that estates, degrees and offices
Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honour
Were purchased by the merit of the wearer!
How many then should cover that stand bare!
How many be commanded that command!
How much low peasantry would then be glean'd
From the true seed of honour! and how much honour
Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times
To be new-varnish'd! Well, but to my choice:
'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.'
50I will assume desert. Give me a key for this,
And instantly unlock my fortunes here.
He opens the silver casket
To my hearts hope: gold, siluer, and base lead.
Who chooseth me must giue and hazard all he hath.
You shall looke fairer ere I giue or hazard.
What saies the golden chest, ha, let me see.
Who chooseth me, shall gaine what many men desire:
What many men desire, that many may be meant
By the foole multitude that choose by show,
Not learning more then the fond eye doth teach,
Which pries not to th' interior, but like the Martlet
Builds in the weather on the outward wall,
Euen in the force and rode of casualtie.
I will not choose what many men desire,
Because I will not iumpe with common spirits,
And ranke me with the barbarous multitudes.
Why then to thee thou Siluer treasure house,
Tell me once more, what title thou doost beare;
Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserues:
And well said too; for who shall goe about
To cosen Fortune, and be honourable
Without the stampe of merrit, let none presume
To weare an vndeserued dignitie:
O that estates, degrees, and offices,
Were not deriu'd corruptly, and that cleare honour
Were purchast by the merrit of the wearer;
How many then should couer that stand bare?
How many be commanded that command?
How much low pleasantry would then be gleaned
From the true seede of honor? And how much honor
Pickt from the chaffe and ruine of the times,
To be new varnisht: Well, but to my choise.
Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserues.
I will assume desert; giue me a key for this,
And instantly vnlocke my fortunes here
Too long a pause for that which you find there.
What's here? the portrait of a blinking idiot,
Presenting me a schedule! I will read it.
How much unlike art thou to Portia!
How much unlike my hopes and my deservings!
'Who chooseth me shall have as much as he deserves.'
Did I deserve no more than a fool's head?
Is that my prize? are my deserts no better?
Presenting me a scedule, I will reade it:
How much vnlike art thou to Portia?
How much vnlike my hopes and my deseruings?
Who chooseth me, shall haue as much as he deserues.
Did I deserue no more then a fooles head,
Is that my prize, are my deserts no better?
To offend, and judge, are distinct offices
And of opposed natures.
And of opposed natures
What is here?
Reads
The fire seven times tried this:
Seven times tried that judgment is,
That did never choose amiss.
Some there be that shadows kiss;
Such have but a shadow's bliss:
There be fools alive, I wis,
Silver'd o'er; and so was this.
70Take what wife you will to bed,
I will ever be your head:
So be gone: you are sped.
Still more fool I shall appear
By the time I linger here
With one fool's head I came to woo,
But I go away with two.
Sweet, adieu. I'll keep my oath,
Patiently to bear my wroth.
Exeunt Arragon and train
The fier seauen times tried this,
80Seauen times tried that iudgement is,
That did neuer choose amis,
Some there be that shadowes kisse,
Such haue but a shadowes blisse:
There be fooles aliue Iwis
Siluer'd o're, and so was this:
Take what wife you will to bed,
I will euer be your head:
So be gone, you are sped
Still more foole I shall appeare
By the time I linger here,
With one fooles head I came to woo,
But I goe away with two.
Sweet adue, Ile keepe my oath,
Patiently to beare my wroath
Thus hath the candle singed the moth.
90O, these deliberate fools! when they do choose,
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose.
O these deliberate fooles when they doe choose,
They haue the wisdome by their wit to loose
The ancient saying is no heresy,
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
Hanging and wiuing goes by destinie
Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa.
Enter a Servant
Where is my lady?
Enter Messenger.
Here: what would my lord?
Madam, there is alighted at your gate
A young Venetian, one that comes before
To signify the approaching of his lord;
100From whom he bringeth sensible regreets,
To wit, besides commends and courteous breath,
Gifts of rich value. Yet I have not seen
So likely an ambassador of love:
A day in April never came so sweet,
To show how costly summer was at hand,
As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord.
A yong Venetian, one that comes before
To signifie th' approaching of his Lord,
From whom he bringeth sensible regreets;
To wit (besides commends and curteous breath)
Gifts of rich value; yet I haue not seene
So likely an Embassador of loue.
A day in Aprill neuer came so sweete
To show how costly Sommer was at hand,
As this fore-spurrer comes before his Lord
No more, I pray thee: I am half afeard
Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee,
Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him.
110Come, come, Nerissa; for I long to see
Quick Cupid's post that comes so mannerly.
Thou wilt say anone he is some kin to thee,
Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him:
Come, come Nerryssa, for I long to see
Quicke Cupids Post, that comes so mannerly
Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be!
Exeunt
Exeunt.
Actus Tertius.
Act III
Act III. Scene I. Venice. A street.
Enter Salanio and Salarino
Now, what news on the Rialto?
Enter Solanio and Salarino.
Why, yet it lives there uncheck'd that Antonio hath
a ship of rich lading wrecked on the narrow seas;
the Goodwins, I think they call the place; a very
dangerous flat and fatal, where the carcasses of many
a tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossip
Report be an honest woman of her word.
hath a ship of rich lading wrackt on the narrow Seas; the
Goodwins I thinke they call the place, a very dangerous
flat, and fatall, where the carcasses of many a tall ship, lye
buried, as they say, if my gossips report be an honest woman
of her word
I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever
knapped ginger or made her neighbours believe she
10wept for the death of a third husband. But it is
true, without any slips of prolixity or crossing the
plain highway of talk, that the good Antonio, the
honest Antonio,--O that I had a title good enough
to keep his name company!--
knapt Ginger, or made her neighbours beleeue she wept
for the death of a third husband: but it is true, without
any slips of prolixity, or crossing the plaine high-way of
talke, that the good Anthonio, the honest Anthonio; o that
I had a title good enough to keepe his name company!
Come, the full stop.
Ha! what sayest thou? Why, the end is, he hath
lost a ship.
a ship
I would it might prove the end of his losses.
Let me say 'amen' betimes, lest the devil cross my
20prayer, for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew.
Enter Shylock
How now, Shylock! what news among the merchants?
my praier, for here he comes in the likenes of a Iew. How
now Shylocke, what newes among the Merchants?
You know, none so well, none so well as you, of my
daughter's flight.
Enter Shylocke.
my daughters flight
That's certain: I, for my part, knew the tailor
that made the wings she flew withal.
that made the wings she flew withall
And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was
fledged; and then it is the complexion of them all
to leave the dam.
fledg'd, and then it is the complexion of them al to leaue
the dam
She is damned for it.
That's certain, if the devil may be her judge.
My own flesh and blood to rebel!
Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it at these years?
I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood.
There is more difference between thy flesh and hers
than between jet and ivory; more between your bloods
than there is between red wine and rhenish. But
tell us, do you hear whether Antonio have had any
loss at sea or no?
hers, then betweene Iet and Iuorie, more betweene your
bloods, then there is betweene red wine and rennish: but
tell vs, doe you heare whether Anthonio haue had anie
losse at sea or no?
There I have another bad match: a bankrupt, a
40prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the
Rialto; a beggar, that was used to come so smug upon
the mart; let him look to his bond: he was wont to
call me usurer; let him look to his bond: he was
wont to lend money for a Christian courtesy; let him
look to his bond.
prodigall, who dare scarce shew his head on the Ryalto,
a begger that was vsd to come so smug vpon the Mart:
let him look to his bond, he was wont to call me Vsurer,
let him looke to his bond, he was wont to lend money
for a Christian curtsie, let him looke to his bond
Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take
his flesh: what's that good for?
his flesh, what's that good for?
To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else,
it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and
50hindered me half a million; laughed at my losses,
mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my
bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine
enemies; and what's his reason? I am a Jew. Hath
not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs,
dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with
the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject
to the same diseases, healed by the same means,
warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as
a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed?
60if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison
us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not
revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will
resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian,
what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian
wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by
Christian example? Why, revenge. The villany you
teach me, I will execute, and it shall go hard but I
will better the instruction.
else, it will feede my reuenge; he hath disgrac'd me, and
hindred me halfe a million, laught at my losses, mockt at
my gaines, scorned my Nation, thwarted my bargaines,
cooled my friends, heated mine enemies, and what's the
reason? I am a Iewe: Hath not a Iew eyes? hath not a
Iew hands, organs, dementions, sences, affections, passions,
fed with the same foode, hurt with the same weapons,
subiect to the same diseases, healed by the same
meanes, warmed and cooled by the same Winter and
Sommer as a Christian is: if you pricke vs doe we not
bleede? if you tickle vs, doe we not laugh? if you poison
vs doe we not die? and if you wrong vs shall we not reuenge?
if we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you
in that. If a Iew wrong a Christian, what is his humility,
reuenge? If a Christian wrong a Iew, what should his sufferance
be by Christian example, why reuenge? The villanie
you teach me I will execute, and it shall goe hard
but I will better the instruction.
Enter a man from Anthonio.
Gentlemen, my maister Anthonio is at his house, and
desires to speake with you both
Enter a Servant
Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house and
70desires to speak with you both.
We have been up and down to seek him.
Enter Tuball.
be matcht, vnlesse the diuell himselfe turne Iew.
Enter Tubal
Here comes another of the tribe: a third cannot be
matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew.
Exeunt Salanio, Salarino, and Servant
How now, Tubal! what news from Genoa? hast thou
found my daughter?
thou found my daughter?
I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot find her.
finde her
Why, there, there, there, there! a diamond gone,
cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort! The curse
never fell upon our nation till now; I never felt it
80till now: two thousand ducats in that; and other
precious, precious jewels. I would my daughter
were dead at my foot, and the jewels in her ear!
would she were hearsed at my foot, and the ducats in
her coffin! No news of them? Why, so: and I know
not what's spent in the search: why, thou loss upon
loss! the thief gone with so much, and so much to
find the thief; and no satisfaction, no revenge:
nor no in luck stirring but what lights on my
shoulders; no sighs but of my breathing; no tears
90but of my shedding.
cost me two thousand ducats in Franckford, the curse neuer
fell vpon our Nation till now, I neuer felt it till now,
two thousand ducats in that, and other precious, precious
iewels: I would my daughter were dead at my foot,
and the iewels in her eare: would she were hearst at my
foote, and the duckets in her coffin: no newes of them,
why so? and I know not how much is spent in the search:
why thou losse vpon losse, the theefe gone with so
much, and so much to finde the theefe, and no satisfaction,
no reuenge, nor no ill luck stirring but what lights
a my shoulders, no sighes but a my breathing, no teares
but a my shedding
Yes, other men have ill luck too: Antonio, as I
heard in Genoa,--
heard in Genowa?
What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck?
Hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis.
I thank God, I thank God. Is't true, is't true?
I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wreck.
the wracke
I thank thee, good Tubal: good news, good news!
ha, ha! where? in Genoa?
newes: ha, ha, here in Genowa
Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, in one
100night fourscore ducats.
night fourescore ducats
Thou stickest a dagger in me: I shall never see my
gold again: fourscore ducats at a sitting!
fourscore ducats!
gold againe, fourescore ducats at a sitting, fourescore ducats
There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my
company to Venice, that swear he cannot choose but break.
company to Venice, that sweare hee cannot choose but
breake
I am very glad of it: I'll plague him; I'll torture
him: I am glad of it.
him, I am glad of it,
One of them showed me a ring that he had of your
daughter for a monkey.
your daughter for a Monkie
Out upon her! Thou torturest me, Tubal: it was my
turquoise; I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor:
I would not have given it for a wilderness of monkeys.
my Turkies, I had it of Leah when I was a Batcheler: I
would not haue giuen it for a wildernesse of Monkies
But Antonio is certainly undone.
Nay, that's true, that's very true. Go, Tubal, fee
me an officer; bespeak him a fortnight before. I
will have the heart of him, if he forfeit; for, were
he out of Venice, I can make what merchandise I
will. Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue;
go, good Tubal; at our synagogue, Tubal.
Exeunt
me an Officer, bespeake him a fortnight before, I will
haue the heart of him if he forfeit, for were he out of Venice,
I can make what merchandize I will: goe Tuball,
and meete me at our Sinagogue, goe good Tuball, at our
Sinagogue Tuball.
Exeunt.
Act III. Scene II. Belmont. A room in Portia's house.
Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, Nerissa,
I pray you, tarry: pause a day or two
Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong,
I lose your company: therefore forbear awhile.
There's something tells me, but it is not love,
I would not lose you; and you know yourself,
Hate counsels not in such a quality.
But lest you should not understand me well,--
And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,--
I would detain you here some month or two
10Before you venture for me. I could teach you
How to choose right, but I am then forsworn;
So will I never be: so may you miss me;
But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin,
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes,
They have o'erlook'd me and divided me;
One half of me is yours, the other half yours,
Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,
And so all yours. O, these naughty times
Put bars between the owners and their rights!
20And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so,
Let fortune go to hell for it, not I.
I speak too long; but 'tis to peize the time,
To eke it and to draw it out in length,
To stay you from election.
Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, and all their traine.
Before you hazard, for in choosing wrong
I loose your companie; therefore forbeare a while,
There's something tels me (but it is not loue)
I would not loose you, and you know your selfe,
Hate counsailes not in such a quallitie;
But least you should not vnderstand me well,
And yet a maiden hath no tongue, but thought,
I would detaine you here some month or two
Before you venture for me. I could teach you
How to choose right, but then I am forsworne,
So will I neuer be, so may you misse me,
But if you doe, youle make me wish a sinne,
That I had beene forsworne: Beshrow your eyes,
They haue ore-lookt me and deuided me,
One halfe of me is yours, the other halfe yours,
Mine owne I would say: but of mine then yours,
And so all yours; O these naughtie times
Puts bars betweene the owners and their rights.
And so though yours, not yours (proue it so)
Let Fortune goe to hell for it, not I.
I speake too long, but 'tis to peize the time,
To ich it, and to draw it out in length,
To stay you from election
Let me choose
For as I am, I live upon the rack.
For as I am, I liue vpon the racke
Upon the rack, Bassanio! then confess
What treason there is mingled with your love.
What treason there is mingled with your loue
None but that ugly treason of mistrust,
30Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love:
There may as well be amity and life
'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love.
Which makes me feare the enioying of my loue:
There may as well be amitie and life,
'Tweene snow and fire, as treason and my loue
Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack,
Where men enforced do speak anything.
Where men enforced doth speake any thing
Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth.
Well then, confess and live.
'Confess' and 'love'
Had been the very sum of my confession:
O happy torment, when my torturer
40Doth teach me answers for deliverance!
But let me to my fortune and the caskets.
Had beene the verie sum of my confession:
O happie torment, when my torturer
Doth teach me answers for deliuerance:
But let me to my fortune and the caskets
Away, then! I am lock'd in one of them:
If you do love me, you will find me out.
Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof.
Let music sound while he doth make his choice;
Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end,
Fading in music: that the comparison
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream
And watery death-bed for him. He may win;
50And what is music then? Then music is
Even as the flourish when true subjects bow
To a new-crowned monarch: such it is
As are those dulcet sounds in break of day
That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear,
And summon him to marriage. Now he goes,
With no less presence, but with much more love,
Than young Alcides, when he did redeem
The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy
To the sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice
60The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives,
With bleared visages, come forth to view
The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules!
Live thou, I live: with much, much more dismay
I view the fight than thou that makest the fray.
Music, whilst Bassanio comments on the caskets to himself
SONG.
Tell me where is fancy bred,
Or in the heart, or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?
Reply, reply.
70It is engender'd in the eyes,
With gazing fed; and fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies.
Let us all ring fancy's knell
I'll begin it,--Ding, dong, bell.
If you doe loue me, you will finde me out.
Nerryssa and the rest, stand all aloofe,
Let musicke sound while he doth make his choise,
Then if he loose he makes a Swan-like end,
Fading in musique. That the comparison
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the streame
And watrie death-bed for him: he may win,
And what is musique than? Than musique is
Euen as the flourish, when true subiects bowe
To a new crowned Monarch: Such it is,
As are those dulcet sounds in breake of day,
That creepe into the dreaming bride-groomes eare,
And summon him to marriage. Now he goes
With no lesse presence, but with much more loue
Then yong Alcides, when he did redeeme
The virgine tribute, paied by howling Troy
To the Sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice,
The rest aloofe are the Dardanian wiues:
With bleared visages come forth to view
The issue of th' exploit: Goe Hercules,
Liue thou, I liue with much more dismay
I view the sight, then thou that mak'st the fray.
Here Musicke. A Song the whilst Bassanio comments on the
Caskets to
himselfe.
Tell me where is fancie bred,
Or in the heart, or in the head:
How begot, how nourished. Replie, replie.
It is engendred in the eyes,
With gazing fed, and Fancie dies,
In the cradle where it lies:
Let vs all ring Fancies knell.
Ile begin it.
Ding, dong, bell
Ding, dong, bell.
So may the outward shows be least themselves:
The world is still deceived with ornament.
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,
But, being seasoned with a gracious voice,
80Obscures the show of evil? In religion,
What damned error, but some sober brow
Will bless it and approve it with a text,
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?
There is no vice so simple but assumes
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts:
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars;
Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk;
90And these assume but valour's excrement
To render them redoubted! Look on beauty,
And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight;
Which therein works a miracle in nature,
Making them lightest that wear most of it:
So are those crisped snaky golden locks
Which make such wanton gambols with the wind,
Upon supposed fairness, often known
To be the dowry of a second head,
The skull that bred them in the sepulchre.
100Thus ornament is but the guiled shore
To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf
Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word,
The seeming truth which cunning times put on
To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold,
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee;
Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge
'Tween man and man: but thou, thou meagre lead,
Which rather threatenest than dost promise aught,
Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence;
110And here choose I; joy be the consequence!
The world is still deceiu'd with ornament.
In Law, what Plea so tainted and corrupt,
But being season'd with a gracious voice,
Obscures the show of euill? In Religion,
What damned error, but some sober brow
Will blesse it, and approue it with a text,
Hiding the grosenesse with faire ornament:
There is no voice so simple, but assumes
Some marke of vertue on his outward parts;
How manie cowards, whose hearts are all as false
As stayers of sand, weare yet vpon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars,
Who inward searcht, haue lyuers white as milke,
And these assume but valors excrement,
To render them redoubted. Looke on beautie,
And you shall see 'tis purchast by the weight,
Which therein workes a miracle in nature,
Making them lightest that weare most of it:
So are those crisped snakie golden locks
Which makes such wanton gambols with the winde
Vpon supposed fairenesse, often knowne
To be the dowrie of a second head,
The scull that bred them in the Sepulcher.
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore
To a most dangerous sea: the beautious scarfe
Vailing an Indian beautie; In a word,
The seeming truth which cunning times put on
To intrap the wisest. Therefore then thou gaudie gold,
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee,
Nor none of thee thou pale and common drudge
'Tweene man and man: but thou, thou meager lead
Which rather threatnest then dost promise ought,
Thy palenesse moues me more then eloquence,
And here choose I, ioy be the consequence
[Aside] How all the other passions fleet to air,
As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced despair,
And shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy! O love,
Be moderate; allay thy ecstasy,
In measure rein thy joy; scant this excess.
I feel too much thy blessing: make it less,
For fear I surfeit.
As doubtfull thoughts, and rash imbrac'd despaire:
And shuddring feare, and greene-eyed iealousie.
O loue be moderate, allay thy extasie,
In measure raine thy ioy, scant this excesse,
I feele too much thy blessing, make it lesse,
For feare I surfeit
What find I here?
Opening the leaden casket
Fair Portia's counterfeit! What demi-god
120Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes?
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine,
Seem they in motion? Here are sever'd lips,
Parted with sugar breath: so sweet a bar
Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs
The painter plays the spider and hath woven
A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men,
Faster than gnats in cobwebs; but her eyes,--
How could he see to do them? having made one,
Methinks it should have power to steal both his
130And leave itself unfurnish'd. Yet look, how far
The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow
In underprizing it, so far this shadow
Doth limp behind the substance. Here's the scroll,
The continent and summary of my fortune.
Reads
You that choose not by the view,
Chance as fair and choose as true!
Since this fortune falls to you,
Be content and seek no new,
If you be well pleased with this
140And hold your fortune for your bliss,
Turn you where your lady is
And claim her with a loving kiss.
A gentle scroll. Fair lady, by your leave;
I come by note, to give and to receive.
Like one of two contending in a prize,
That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes,
Hearing applause and universal shout,
Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt
Whether these pearls of praise be his or no;
150So, thrice fair lady, stand I, even so;
As doubtful whether what I see be true,
Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you.
Faire Portias counterfeit. What demie God
Hath come so neere creation? moue these eies?
Or whether riding on the bals of mine
Seeme they in motion? Here are seuer'd lips
Parted with suger breath, so sweet a barre
Should sunder such sweet friends: here in her haires
The Painter plaies the Spider, and hath wouen
A golden mesh t' intrap the hearts of men
Faster then gnats in cobwebs: but her eies,
How could he see to doe them? hauing made one,
Me thinkes it should haue power to steale both his
And leaue it selfe vnfurnisht: Yet looke how farre
The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow
In vnderprising it, so farre this shadow
Doth limpe behinde the substance. Here's the scroule,
The continent, and summarie of my fortune.
You that choose not by the view
Chance as faire, and choose as true:
Since this fortune fals to you,
Be content, and seeke no new.
If you be well pleasd with this,
And hold your fortune for your blisse,
Turne you where your Lady is,
And claime her with a louing kisse
You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand,
Such as I am: though for myself alone
I would not be ambitious in my wish,
To wish myself much better; yet, for you
I would be trebled twenty times myself;
A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich;
That only to stand high in your account,
160I might in virtue, beauties, livings, friends,
Exceed account; but the full sum of me
Is sum of something, which, to term in gross,
Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractised;
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;
Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit
Commits itself to yours to be directed,
As from her lord, her governor, her king.
170Myself and what is mine to you and yours
Is now converted: but now I was the lord
Of this fair mansion, master of my servants,
Queen o'er myself: and even now, but now,
This house, these servants and this same myself
Are yours, my lord: I give them with this ring;
Which when you part from, lose, or give away,
Let it presage the ruin of your love
And be my vantage to exclaim on you.
I come by note to giue, and to receiue,
Like one of two contending in a prize
That thinks he hath done well in peoples eies:
Hearing applause and vniuersall shout,
Giddie in spirit, still gazing in a doubt
Whether those peales of praise be his or no.
So thrice faire Lady stand I euen so,
As doubtfull whether what I see be true,
Vntill confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you
Madam, you have bereft me of all words,
180Only my blood speaks to you in my veins;
And there is such confusion in my powers,
As after some oration fairly spoke
By a beloved prince, there doth appear
Among the buzzing pleased multitude;
Where every something, being blent together,
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy,
Express'd and not express'd. But when this ring
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence:
O, then be bold to say Bassanio's dead!
Such as I am; though for my selfe alone
I would not be ambitious in my wish,
To wish my selfe much better, yet for you,
I would be trebled twenty times my selfe,
A thousand times more faire, ten thousand times
More rich, that onely to stand high in your account,
I might in vertues, beauties, liuings, friends,
Exceed account: but the full summe of me
Is sum of nothing: which to terme in grosse,
Is an vnlessoned girle, vnschool'd, vnpractiz'd,
Happy in this, she is not yet so old
But she may learne: happier then this,
Shee is not bred so dull but she can learne;
Happiest of all, is that her gentle spirit
Commits it selfe to yours to be directed,
As from her Lord, her Gouernour, her King.
My selfe, and what is mine, to you and yours
Is now conuerted. But now I was the Lord
Of this faire mansion, master of my seruants,
Queene ore my selfe: and euen now, but now,
This house, these seruants, and this same my selfe
Are yours, my Lord, I giue them with this ring,
Which when you part from, loose, or giue away,
Let it presage the ruine of your loue,
And be my vantage to exclaime on you
My lord and lady, it is now our time,
That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper,
To cry, good joy: good joy, my lord and lady!
Onely my bloud speakes to you in my vaines,
And there is such confusion in my powers,
As after some oration fairely spoke
By a beloued Prince, there doth appeare
Among the buzzing pleased multitude,
Where euery something being blent together,
Turnes to a wilde of nothing, saue of ioy
Exprest, and not exprest: but when this ring
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence,
O then be bold to say Bassanio's dead
My lord Bassanio and my gentle lady,
I wish you all the joy that you can wish;
For I am sure you can wish none from me:
And when your honours mean to solemnize
The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you,
Even at that time I may be married too.
That haue stood by and seene our wishes prosper,
To cry good ioy, good ioy my Lord and Lady
With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.
I wish you all the ioy that you can wish:
For I am sure you can wish none from me:
And when your Honours meane to solemnize
The bargaine of your faith: I doe beseech you
Euen at that time I may be married too
I thank your lordship, you have got me one.
My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours:
You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid;
You loved, I loved for intermission.
No more pertains to me, my lord, than you.
Your fortune stood upon the casket there,
And so did mine too, as the matter falls;
For wooing here until I sweat again,
And sweating until my very roof was dry
With oaths of love, at last, if promise last,
210I got a promise of this fair one here
To have her love, provided that your fortune
Achieved her mistress.
Is this true, Nerissa?
My eyes my Lord can looke as swift as yours:
You saw the mistres, I beheld the maid:
You lou'd, I lou'd for intermission,
No more pertaines to me my Lord then you;
Your fortune stood vpon the caskets there,
And so did mine too, as the matter falls:
For wooing heere vntill I swet againe,
And swearing till my very rough was dry
With oathes of loue, at last, if promise last,
I got a promise of this faire one heere
To haue her loue: prouided that your fortune
Atchieu'd her mistresse
Madam, it is, so you stand pleased withal.
And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith?
Yes, faith, my lord.
Our feast shall be much honour'd in your marriage.
We'll play with them the first boy for a thousand ducats.
What, and stake down?
ducats
No; we shall ne'er win at that sport, and stake down.
But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel? What,
and my old Venetian friend Salerio?
Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salerio, a Messenger from Venice
Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither;
If that the youth of my new interest here
Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave,
I bid my very friends and countrymen,
Sweet Portia, welcome.
downe.
But who comes heere? Lorenzo and his Infidell?
What and my old Venetian friend Salerio?
So do I, my lord:
They are entirely welcome.
Enter Lorenzo, Iessica, and Salerio.
If that the youth of my new interest heere
Haue power to bid you welcome: by your leaue
I bid my verie friends and Countrimen
Sweet Portia welcome
I thank your honour. For my part, my lord,
My purpose was not to have seen you here;
But meeting with Salerio by the way,
He did entreat me, past all saying nay,
To come with him along.
I did, my lord;
And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio
Commends him to you.
Gives Bassanio a letter
My purpose was not to haue seene you heere,
But meeting with Salerio by the way,
He did intreate mee past all saying nay
To come with him along
Ere I ope his letter,
I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth.
And I haue reason for it, Signior Anthonio
Commends him to you
Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind;
Nor well, unless in mind: his letter there
Will show you his estate.
I pray you tell me how my good friend doth
Nerissa, cheer yon stranger; bid her welcome.
Your hand, Salerio: what's the news from Venice?
How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio?
I know he will be glad of our success;
We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece.
Nor wel, vnlesse in minde: his Letter there
Wil shew you his estate.
Opens the Letter.
I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost.
Your hand Salerio, what's the newes from Venice?
How doth that royal Merchant good Anthonio;
I know he will be glad of our successe,
We are the Iasons, we haue won the fleece
There are some shrewd contents in yon same paper,
250That steals the colour from Bassanio's cheek:
Some dear friend dead; else nothing in the world
Could turn so much the constitution
Of any constant man. What, worse and worse!
With leave, Bassanio: I am half yourself,
And I must freely have the half of anything
That this same paper brings you.
lost
O sweet Portia,
Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words
That ever blotted paper! Gentle lady,
260When I did first impart my love to you,
I freely told you, all the wealth I had
Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman;
And then I told you true: and yet, dear lady,
Rating myself at nothing, you shall see
How much I was a braggart. When I told you
My state was nothing, I should then have told you
That I was worse than nothing; for, indeed,
I have engaged myself to a dear friend,
Engaged my friend to his mere enemy,
270To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady;
The paper as the body of my friend,
And every word in it a gaping wound,
Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio?
Have all his ventures fail'd? What, not one hit?
From Tripolis, from Mexico and England,
From Lisbon, Barbary and India?
And not one vessel 'scape the dreadful touch
Of merchant-marring rocks?
Paper,
That steales the colour from Bassianos cheeke,
Some deere friend dead, else nothing in the world
Could turne so much the constitution
Of any constant man. What, worse and worse?
With leaue Bassanio I am halfe your selfe,
And I must freely haue the halfe of any thing
That this same paper brings you
Not one, my lord.
280Besides, it should appear, that if he had
The present money to discharge the Jew,
He would not take it. Never did I know
A creature, that did bear the shape of man,
So keen and greedy to confound a man:
He plies the duke at morning and at night,
And doth impeach the freedom of the state,
If they deny him justice: twenty merchants,
The duke himself, and the magnificoes
Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him;
290But none can drive him from the envious plea
Of forfeiture, of justice and his bond.
Heere are a few of the vnpleasant'st words
That euer blotted paper. Gentle Ladie
When I did first impart my loue to you,
I freely told you all the wealth I had
Ran in my vaines: I was a Gentleman,
And then I told you true: and yet deere Ladie,
Rating my selfe at nothing, you shall see
How much I was a Braggart, when I told you
My state was nothing, I should then haue told you
That I was worse then nothing: for indeede
I haue ingag'd my selfe to a deere friend,
Ingag'd my friend to his meere enemie
To feede my meanes. Heere is a Letter Ladie,
The paper as the bodie of my friend,
And euerie word in it a gaping wound
Issuing life blood. But is it true Salerio,
Hath all his ventures faild, what not one hit,
From Tripolis, from Mexico and England,
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India,
And not one vessell scape the dreadfull touch
Of Merchant-marring rocks?
When I was with him I have heard him swear
To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen,
That he would rather have Antonio's flesh
Than twenty times the value of the sum
That he did owe him: and I know, my lord,
If law, authority and power deny not,
It will go hard with poor Antonio.
Besides, it should appeare, that if he had
The present money to discharge the Iew,
He would not take it: neuer did I know
A creature that did beare the shape of man
So keene and greedy to confound a man.
He plyes the Duke at morning and at night,
And doth impeach the freedome of the state
If they deny him iustice. Twenty Merchants,
The Duke himselfe, and the Magnificoes
Of greatest port haue all perswaded with him,
But none can driue him from the enuious plea
Of forfeiture, of iustice, and his bond
Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble?
To Tuball and to Chus, his Countri-men,
That he would rather haue Anthonio's flesh,
Then twenty times the value of the summe
That he did owe him: and I know my Lord,
If law, authoritie, and power denie not,
It will goe hard with poore Anthonio
The dearest friend to me, the kindest man,
The best-condition'd and unwearied spirit
In doing courtesies, and one in whom
The ancient Roman honour more appears
Than any that draws breath in Italy.
What sum owes he the Jew?
The best condition'd, and vnwearied spirit
In doing curtesies: and one in whom
The ancient Romane honour more appeares
Then any that drawes breath in Italie
For me three thousand ducats.
What, no more?
Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond;
Double six thousand, and then treble that,
310Before a friend of this description
Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault.
First go with me to church and call me wife,
And then away to Venice to your friend;
For never shall you lie by Portia's side
With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold
To pay the petty debt twenty times over:
When it is paid, bring your true friend along.
My maid Nerissa and myself meantime
Will live as maids and widows. Come, away!
320For you shall hence upon your wedding-day:
Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer:
Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear.
But let me hear the letter of your friend.
[Reads] Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all
miscarried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is
very low, my bond to the Jew is forfeit; and since
in paying it, it is impossible I should live, all
debts are cleared between you and I, if I might but
see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your
330pleasure: if your love do not persuade you to come,
let not my letter.
Pay him sixe thousand, and deface the bond:
Double sixe thousand, and then treble that,
Before a friend of this description
Shall lose a haire through Bassanio's fault.
First goe with me to Church, and call me wife,
And then away to Venice to your friend:
For neuer shall you lie by Portias side
With an vnquiet soule. You shall haue gold
To pay the petty debt twenty times ouer.
When it is payd, bring your true friend along,
My maid Nerrissa, and my selfe meane time
Will liue as maids and widdowes; come away,
For you shall hence vpon your wedding day:
Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheere,
Since you are deere bought, I will loue you deere.
But let me heare the letter of your friend.
Sweet Bassanio, my ships haue all miscarried, my Creditors
grow cruell, my estate is very low, my bond to the Iew is
forfeit, and since in paying it, it is impossible I should liue, all
debts are cleerd between you and I, if I might see you at my
death: notwithstanding, vse your pleasure, if your loue doe not
perswade you to come, let not my letter
O love, dispatch all business, and be gone!
Since I have your good leave to go away,
I will make haste: but, till I come again,
No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay,
No rest be interposer 'twixt us twain.
Exeunt
I will make hast; but till I come againe,
No bed shall ere be guilty of my stay,
Nor rest be interposer twixt vs twaine.
Exeunt.
Act III. Scene III. Venice. A street.
Enter Shylock, Salarino, Antonio, and Jailer
Jailer, look to him: tell not me of mercy;
This is the fool that lent out money gratis:
Jailer, look to him.
Enter the Iew, and Solanio, and Anthonio, and the Iaylor.
This is the foole that lends out money gratis.
Iaylor, looke to him
Hear me yet, good 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 hadst a cause;
But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs:
The duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder,
10Thou naughty jailer, that thou art so fond
To come abroad with him at his request.
I haue sworne an oath that I will haue my bond:
Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause,
But since I am a dog, beware my phangs,
The Duke shall grant me iustice, I do wonder
Thou naughty Iaylor, that thou art so fond
To come abroad with him at his request
I pray thee, hear me speak.
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 will have my bond.
Exit
Ile haue my bond, and therefore speake no more,
Ile not be made a soft and dull ey'd foole,
To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yeeld
To Christian intercessors: follow not,
Ile haue no speaking, I will haue my bond.
Exit Iew.
It is the most impenetrable cur
20That ever kept with men.
That euer kept with men
Let him alone:
I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers.
He seeks my life; his reason well I know:
I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures
Many that have at times made moan to me;
Therefore he hates me.
Ile follow him no more with bootlesse prayers:
He seekes my life, his reason well I know;
I oft deliuer'd from his forfeitures
Many that haue at times made mone to me,
Therefore he hates me
I am sure the duke
Will never grant this forfeiture to hold.
this forfeiture to hold
The duke cannot deny the course of law:
30For the commodity that strangers have
With us in Venice, if it be denied,
Will much impeach the justice of his state;
Since that the trade and profit of the city
Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go:
These griefs and losses have so bated me,
That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh
To-morrow to my bloody creditor.
Well, jailer, on. Pray God, Bassanio come
To see me pay his debt, and then I care not!
Exeunt
For the commoditie that strangers haue
With vs in Venice, if it be denied,
Will much impeach the iustice of the State,
Since that the trade and profit of the citty
Consisteth of all Nations. Therefore goe,
These greefes and losses haue so bated mee,
That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh
To morrow, to my bloudy Creditor.
Well Iaylor, on, pray God Bassanio come
To see me pay his debt, and then I care not.
Exeunt.
Act III. Scene IV. Belmont. A room in Portia's house.
Enter Portia, Nerissa, Lorenzo, Jessica, and Balthasar
Madam, although I speak it in your presence,
You have a noble and a true conceit
Of godlike amity; which appears most strongly
In bearing thus the absence of your lord.
But if you knew to whom you show this honour,
How true a gentleman you send relief,
How dear a lover of my lord your husband,
I know you would be prouder of the work
Than customary bounty can enforce you.
Enter Portia, Nerrissa, Lorenzo, Iessica, and a man of Portias.
You haue a noble and a true conceit
Of god-like amity, which appeares most strongly
In bearing thus the absence of your Lord.
But if you knew to whom you shew this honour,
How true a Gentleman you send releefe,
How deere a louer of my Lord your husband,
I know you would be prouder of the worke
Then customary bounty can enforce you
I never did repent for doing good,
Nor shall not now: for in companions
That do converse and waste the time together,
Whose souls do bear an equal yoke Of love,
There must be needs a like proportion
Of lineaments, of manners and of spirit;
Which makes me think that this Antonio,
Being the bosom lover of my lord,
Must needs be like my lord. If it be so,
How little is the cost I have bestow'd
20In purchasing the semblance of my soul
From out the state of hellish misery!
This comes too near the praising of myself;
Therefore no more of it: hear other things.
Lorenzo, I commit into your hands
The husbandry and manage of my house
Until my lord's return: for mine own part,
I have toward heaven breathed a secret vow
To live in prayer and contemplation,
Only attended by Nerissa here,
30Until her husband and my lord's return:
There is a monastery two miles off;
And there will we abide. I do desire you
Not to deny this imposition;
The which my love and some necessity
Now lays upon you.
Nor shall not now: for in companions
That do conuerse and waste the time together,
Whose soules doe beare an egal yoke of loue.
There must be needs a like proportion
Of lyniaments, of manners, and of spirit;
Which makes me thinke that this Anthonio
Being the bosome louer of my Lord,
Must needs be like my Lord. If it be so,
How little is the cost I haue bestowed
In purchasing the semblance of my soule;
From out the state of hellish cruelty,
This comes too neere the praising of my selfe,
Therefore no more of it: heere other things
Lorenso I commit into your hands,
The husbandry and mannage of my house,
Vntill my Lords returne; for mine owne part
I haue toward heauen breath'd a secret vow,
To liue in prayer and contemplation,
Onely attended by Nerrissa heere,
Vntill her husband and my Lords returne:
There is a monastery too miles off,
And there we will abide. I doe desire you
Not to denie this imposition,
The which my loue and some necessity
Now layes vpon you
Madam, with all my heart;
I shall obey you in all fair commands.
I shall obey you in all faire commands
My people do already know my mind,
And will acknowledge you and Jessica
40In place of Lord Bassanio and myself.
And so farewell, till we shall meet again.
And will acknowledge you and Iessica
In place of Lord Bassanio and my selfe.
So far you well till we shall meete againe
Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you!
I wish your ladyship all heart's content.
I thank you for your wish, and am well pleased
To wish it back on you: fare you well Jessica.
Exeunt Jessica and Lorenzo
Now, Balthasar,
As I have ever found thee honest-true,
So let me find thee still. Take this same letter,
And use thou all the endeavour of a man
50In speed to Padua: see thou render this
Into my cousin's hand, Doctor Bellario;
And, look, what notes and garments he doth give thee,
Bring them, I pray thee, with imagined speed
Unto the tranect, to the common ferry
Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words,
But get thee gone: I shall be there before thee.
To wish it backe on you: faryouwell Iessica.
Exeunt.
Now Balthaser, as I haue euer found thee honest true,
So let me finde thee still: take this same letter,
And vse thou all the indeauor of a man,
In speed to Mantua, see thou render this
Into my cosins hand, Doctor Belario,
And looke what notes and garments he doth giue thee,
Bring them I pray thee with imagin'd speed
Vnto the Tranect, to the common Ferrie
Which trades to Venice; waste no time in words,
But get thee gone, I shall be there before thee
Madam, I go with all convenient speed.
Exit
Come on, Nerissa; I have work in hand
That you yet know not of: we'll see our husbands
60Before they think of us.
That you yet know not of; wee'll see our husbands
Before they thinke of vs?
Shall they see us?
They shall, Nerissa; but in such a habit,
That they shall think we are accomplished
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
70Into 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,
80Which I will practise.
That they shall thinke we are accomplished
With that we lacke; Ile hold thee any wager
When we are both accoutered like yong men,
Ile proue the prettier fellow of the two,
And weare my dagger with the brauer grace,
And speake betweene the change of man and boy,
With a reede voyce, and turne two minsing steps
Into a manly stride; and speake of frayes
Like a fine bragging youth: and tell quaint lyes
How honourable Ladies sought my loue,
Which I denying, they fell sicke and died.
I could not doe withall: then Ile repent,
And wish for all that, that I had not kil'd them;
And twentie of these punie lies Ile tell,
That men shall sweare I haue discontinued schoole
Aboue a twelue moneth: I haue within my minde
A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Iacks,
Which I will practise
Why, shall we turn to men?
Fie, what a question's that,
If thou wert near a lewd interpreter!
But come, I'll tell thee all my whole device
When I am in my coach, which stays for us
At the park gate; and therefore haste away,
For we must measure twenty miles today.
Exeunt
If thou wert nere a lewd interpreter:
But come, Ile tell thee all my whole deuice
When I am in my coach, which stayes for vs
At the Parke gate; and therefore haste away,
For we must measure twentie miles to day.
Exeunt.
Act III. Scene V. The same. A garden.
Enter Launcelot and Jessica
Yes, truly; for, look you, the sins of the father
are to be laid upon the children: therefore, I
promise ye, I fear you. I was always plain with
you, and so now I speak my agitation of the matter:
therefore be of good cheer, for truly I think you
are damned. There is but one hope in it that can do
you any good; and that is but a kind of bastard
hope neither.
Enter Clowne and Iessica.
are to be laid vpon the children, therefore I promise
you, I feare you, I was alwaies plaine with you, and so
now I speake my agitation of the matter: therfore be of
good cheere, for truly I thinke you are damn'd, there is
but one hope in it that can doe you anie good, and that is
but a kinde of bastard hope neither
And what hope is that, I pray thee?
Marry, you may partly hope that your father got you
not, that you are not the Jew's daughter.
got you not, that you are not the Iewes daughter
That were a kind of bastard hope, indeed: so the
sins of my mother should be visited upon me.
sins of my mother should be visited vpon me
Truly then I fear you are damned both by father and
mother: thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I
fall into Charybdis, your mother: well, you are
gone both ways.
and mother: thus when I shun Scilla your father, I
fall into Charibdis your mother; well, you are gone both
waies
I shall be saved by my husband; he hath made me a
Christian.
a Christian
Truly, the more to blame he: we were Christians
enow before; e'en as many as could well live, one by
another. This making Christians will raise the
price of hogs: if we grow all to be pork-eaters, we
shall not shortly have a rasher on the coals for money.
enow before, e'ne as many as could wel liue one by another:
this making of Christians will raise the price of
Hogs, if wee grow all to be porke-eaters, wee shall not
shortlie haue a rasher on the coales for money.
Enter Lorenzo
I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say: here he comes.
Enter Lorenzo.
he comes
I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot, if
you thus get my wife into corners.
if you thus get my wife into corners?
Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo: Launcelot and I
are out. He tells me flatly, there is no mercy for
30me in heaven, because I am a Jew's daughter: and he
says, you are no good member of the commonwealth,
for in converting Jews to Christians, you raise the
price of pork.
and I are out, he tells me flatly there is no mercy for mee
in heauen, because I am a Iewes daughter: and hee saies
you are no good member of the common wealth, for
in conuerting Iewes to Christians, you raise the price
of Porke
I shall answer that better to the commonwealth than
you can the getting up of the negro's belly: the
Moor is with child by you, Launcelot.
than you can the getting vp of the Negroes bellie:
the Moore is with childe by you Launcelet?
It is much that the Moor should be more than reason:
but if she be less than an honest woman, she is
indeed more than I took her for.
reason: but if she be lesse then an honest woman, shee is
indeed more then I tooke her for
How every fool can play upon the word! I think the
best grace of wit will shortly turn into silence,
and discourse grow commendable in none only but
parrots. Go in, sirrah; bid them prepare for dinner.
thinke the best grace of witte will shortly turne into silence,
and discourse grow commendable in none onely
but Parrats: goe in sirra, bid them prepare for dinner?
That is done, sir; they have all stomachs.
Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you! then bid
them prepare dinner.
then bid them prepare dinner
That is done too, sir; only 'cover' is the word.
Will you cover then, sir?
Not so, sir, neither; I know my duty.
Yet more quarrelling with occasion! Wilt thou show
the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant? I pray
tree, understand a plain man in his plain meaning:
go to thy fellows; bid them cover the table, serve
in the meat, and we will come in to dinner.
shew the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant; I pray
thee vnderstand a plaine man in his plaine meaning: goe
to thy fellowes, bid them couer the table, serue in the
meat, and we will come in to dinner
For the table, sir, it shall be served in; for the
meat, sir, it shall be covered; for your coming in
to dinner, sir, why, let it be as humours and
conceits shall govern.
Exit
meat sir, it shall bee couered, for your comming in to
dinner sir, why let it be as humors and conceits shall gouerne.
Exit Clowne.
O dear discretion, how his words are suited!
60The fool hath planted in his memory
An army of good words; and I do know
A many fools, that stand in better place,
Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word
Defy the matter. How cheerest thou, Jessica?
And now, good sweet, say thy opinion,
How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio's wife?
The foole hath planted in his memory
An Armie of good words, and I doe know
A many fooles that stand in better place,
Garnisht like him, that for a tricksie word
Defie the matter: how cheer'st thou Iessica,
And now good sweet say thy opinion,
How dost thou like the Lord Bassiano's wife?
Past all expressing. It is very meet
The Lord Bassanio live an upright life;
For, having such a blessing in his lady,
70He finds the joys of heaven here on earth;
And if on earth he do not mean it, then
In reason he should never come to heaven
Why, if two gods should play some heavenly match
And on the wager lay two earthly women,
And Portia one, there must be something else
Pawn'd with the other, for the poor rude world
Hath not her fellow.
The Lord Bassanio liue an vpright life
For hauing such a blessing in his Lady,
He findes the ioyes of heauen heere on earth,
And if on earth he doe not meane it, it
Is reason he should neuer come to heauen?
Why, if two gods should play some heauenly match,
And on the wager lay two earthly women,
And Portia one: there must be something else
Paund with the other, for the poore rude world
Hath not her fellow
Even such a husband
Hast thou of me as she is for a wife.
Hast thou of me, as she is for a wife
Nay, but ask my opinion too of that.
I will anon: first, let us go to dinner.
Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach.
No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk;
' Then, howso'er thou speak'st, 'mong other things
I shall digest it.
Then how som ere thou speakst 'mong other things,
I shall digest it?
Well, I'll set you forth.
Exeunt
Exeunt.
Actus Quartus.
Act IV
Act IV. Scene I. Venice. A court of justice.
Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Antonio, Bassanio, Gratiano, Salerio, and others
What, is Antonio here?
Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Anthonio, Bassanio, and Gratiano
Ready, so please your grace.
I am sorry for thee: thou art come to answer
A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch
uncapable of pity, void and empty
From any dram of mercy.
A stonie aduersary, an inhumane wretch,
Vncapable of pitty, voyd, and empty
From any dram of mercie
I have heard
Your grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify
His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate
10And that no lawful means can carry me
Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose
My patience to his fury, and am arm'd
To suffer, with a quietness of spirit,
The very tyranny and rage of his.
Your Grace hath tane great paines to qualifie
His rigorous course: but since he stands obdurate,
And that no lawful meanes can carrie me
Out of his enuies reach, I do oppose
My patience to his fury, and am arm'd
To suffer with a quietnesse of spirit,
The very tiranny and rage of his
Go one, and call the Jew into the court.
He is ready at the door: he comes, my lord.
Enter Shylock
Make room, and let him stand before our face.
Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too,
That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice
20To the last hour of act; and then 'tis thought
Thou'lt show thy mercy and remorse more strange
Than is thy strange apparent cruelty;
And where thou now exact'st the penalty,
Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh,
Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture,
But, touch'd with human gentleness and love,
Forgive a moiety of the principal;
Glancing an eye of pity on his losses,
That have of late so huddled on his back,
30Enow to press a royal merchant down
And pluck commiseration of his state
From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint,
From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train'd
To offices of tender courtesy.
We all expect a gentle answer, Jew.
Enter Shylocke.
Shylocke the world thinkes, and I thinke so to
That thou but leadest this fashion of thy mallice
To the last houre of act, and then 'tis thought
Thou'lt shew thy mercy and remorse more strange,
Than is thy strange apparant cruelty;
And where thou now exact'st the penalty,
Which is a pound of this poore Merchants flesh,
Thou wilt not onely loose the forfeiture,
But touch'd with humane gentlenesse and loue:
Forgiue a moytie of the principall,
Glancing an eye of pitty on his losses
That haue of late so hudled on his backe,
Enow to presse a royall Merchant downe;
And plucke commiseration of his state
From brassie bosomes, and rough hearts of flints,
From stubborne Turkes and Tarters neuer traind
To offices of tender curtesie,
We all expect a gentle answer Iew?
I have possess'd your grace of what I purpose;
And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn
To have the due and forfeit of my bond:
If you deny it, let the danger light
40Upon your charter and your city's freedom.
You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have
A weight of carrion flesh than to receive
Three thousand ducats: I'll not answer that:
But, say, it is my humour: is it answer'd?
What if my house be troubled with a rat
And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats
To have it baned? What, are you answer'd yet?
Some men there are love not a gaping pig;
Some, that are mad if they behold a cat;
50And others, when the bagpipe sings i' the nose,
Cannot contain their urine: for affection,
Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood
Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer:
As there is no firm reason to be render'd,
Why he cannot abide a gaping pig;
Why he, a harmless necessary cat;
Why he, a woollen bagpipe; but of force
Must yield to such inevitable shame
As to offend, himself being offended;
60So can I give no reason, nor I will not,
More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing
I bear Antonio, that I follow thus
A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd?
And by our holy Sabbath haue I sworne
To haue the due and forfeit of my bond.
If you denie it, let the danger light
Vpon your Charter, and your Cities freedome.
You'l aske me why I rather choose to haue
A weight of carrion flesh, then to receiue
Three thousand Ducats? Ile not answer that:
But say it is my humor; Is it answered?
What if my house be troubled with a Rat,
And I be pleas'd to giue ten thousand Ducates
To haue it bain'd? What, are you answer'd yet?
Some men there are loue not a gaping Pigge:
Some that are mad, if they behold a Cat:
And others, when the bag-pipe sings i'th nose,
Cannot containe their Vrine for affection.
Masters of passion swayes it to the moode
Of what it likes or loaths, now for your answer:
As there is no firme reason to be rendred
Why he cannot abide a gaping Pigge?
Why he a harmlesse necessarie Cat?
Why he a woollen bag-pipe: but of force
Must yeeld to such ineuitable shame,
As to offend himselfe being offended:
So can I giue no reason, nor I will not,
More then a lodg'd hate, and a certaine loathing
I beare Anthonio, that I follow thus
A loosing suite against him? Are you answered?
This is no answer, thou unfeeling man,
To excuse the current of thy cruelty.
To excuse the currant of thy cruelty
I am not bound to please thee with my answers.
Do all men kill the things they do not love?
Hates any man the thing he would not kill?
Every offence is not a hate at first.
What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice?
twice?
I pray you, think you question with the Jew:
You may as well go stand upon the beach
And bid the main flood bate his usual height;
You may as well use question with the wolf
Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb;
You may as well forbid the mountain pines
To wag their high tops and to make no noise,
When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven;
You may as well do anything most hard,
80As seek to soften that--than which what's harder?--
His Jewish heart: therefore, I do beseech you,
Make no more offers, use no farther means,
But with all brief and plain conveniency
Let me have judgment and the Jew his will.
You may as well go stand vpon the beach,
And bid the maine flood baite his vsuall height,
Or euen as well vse question with the Wolfe,
The Ewe bleate for the Lambe:
You may as well forbid the Mountaine Pines
To wagge their high tops, and to make no noise
When they are fretted with the gusts of heauen:
You may as well do any thing most hard,
As seeke to soften that, then which what harder?
His Iewish heart. Therefore I do beseech you
Make no more offers, vse no farther meanes,
But with all briefe and plaine conueniencie
Let me haue iudgement, and the Iew his will
For thy three thousand ducats here is six.
What judgment shall I dread, doing
Were in six parts and every part a ducat,
I would not draw them; I would have my bond.
Were in sixe parts, and euery part a Ducate,
I would not draw them, I would haue my bond?
How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none?
What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong?
You have among you many a purchased slave,
Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules,
You use in abject and in slavish parts,
Because you bought them: shall I say to you,
Let them be free, marry them to your heirs?
Why sweat they under burthens? let their beds
Be made as soft as yours and let their palates
Be season'd with such viands? You will answer
'The slaves are ours:' so do I answer you:
100The pound of flesh, which I demand of him,
Is dearly bought; 'tis mine and I will have it.
If you deny me, fie upon your law!
There is no force in the decrees of Venice.
I stand for judgment: answer; shall I have it?
You haue among you many a purchast slaue,
Which like your Asses, and your Dogs and Mules,
You vse in abiect and in slauish parts,
Because you bought them. Shall I say to you,
Let them be free, marrie them to your heires?
Why sweate they vnder burthens? Let their beds
Be made as soft as yours: and let their pallats
Be season'd with such Viands: you will answer
The slaues are ours. So do I answer you.
The pound of flesh which I demand of him
Is deerely bought, 'tis mine, and I will haue it.
If you deny me; fie vpon your Law,
There is no force in the decrees of Venice;
I stand for iudgement, answer, Shall I haue it?
Upon my power I may dismiss this court,
Unless Bellario, a learned doctor,
Whom I have sent for to determine this,
Come here today.
Vnlesse Bellario a learned Doctor,
Whom I haue sent for to determine this,
Come heere to day
My lord, here stays without
110A messenger with letters from the doctor,
New come from Padua.
A Messenger with Letters from the Doctor,
New come from Padua
Bring us the letter; call the messenger.
Good cheer, Antonio! What, man, courage yet!
The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones and all,
Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood.
The Iew shall haue my flesh, blood, bones, and all,
Ere thou shalt loose for me one drop of blood
I am a tainted wether of the flock,
Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit
Drops earliest to the ground; and so let me
You cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio,
120Than to live still and write mine epitaph.
Meetest for death, the weakest kinde of fruite
Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me;
You cannot better be employ'd Bassanio,
Then to liue still, and write mine Epitaph.
Enter Nerissa, dressed like a lawyer's clerk
Came you from Padua, from Bellario?
Enter Nerrissa.
From both, my lord. Bellario greets your grace.
Presenting a letter
My Lord Bellario greets your Grace
Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?
To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there.
Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,
Thou makest thy knife keen; but no metal can,
No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keenness
Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee?
Thou mak'st thy knife keene: but no mettall can,
No, not the hangmans Axe beare halfe the keennesse
Of thy sharpe enuy. Can no prayers pierce thee?
No, none that thou hast wit enough to make.
O, be thou damn'd, inexecrable dog!
And for thy life let justice be accused.
Thou almost makest me waver in my faith
To hold opinion with Pythagoras,
That souls of animals infuse themselves
Into the trunks of men: thy currish spirit
Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for human slaughter,
Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet,
And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam,
Infused itself in thee; for thy desires
140Are wolvish, bloody, starved and ravenous.
And for thy life let iustice be accus'd:
Thou almost mak'st me wauer in my faith;
To hold opinion with Pythagoras,
That soules of Animals infuse themselues
Into the trunkes of men. Thy currish spirit
Gouern'd a Wolfe, who hang'd for humane slaughter,
Euen from the gallowes did his fell soule fleet;
And whil'st thou layest in thy vnhallowed dam,
Infus'd it selfe in thee: For thy desires
Are Woluish, bloody, steru'd, and rauenous
Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond,
Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud:
Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall
To cureless ruin. I stand here for law.
Thou but offend'st thy Lungs to speake so loud:
Repaire thy wit good youth, or it will fall
To endlesse ruine. I stand heere for Law
This letter from Bellario doth commend
A young and learned doctor to our court.
Where is he?
A yong and Learned Doctor in our Court;
Where is he?
He attendeth here hard by,
To know your answer, whether you'll admit him.
To know your answer, whether you'l admit him
With all my heart. Some three or four of you
Go give him courteous conduct to this place.
Meantime the court shall hear Bellario's letter.
[Reads]
Your grace shall understand that at the receipt of
your letter I am very sick: but in the instant that
your messenger came, in loving visitation was with
me a young doctor of Rome; his name is Balthasar. I
acquainted him with the cause in controversy between
the Jew and Antonio the merchant: we turned o'er
many books together: he is furnished with my
opinion; which, bettered with his own learning, the
greatness whereof I cannot enough commend, comes
with him, at my importunity, to fill up your grace's
request in my stead. I beseech you, let his lack of
years be no impediment to let him lack a reverend
estimation; for I never knew so young a body with so
old a head. I leave him to your gracious
acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his
commendation.
Go giue him curteous conduct to this place,
Meane time the Court shall heare Bellarioes Letter.
Your Grace shall vnderstand, that at the receite of your
Letter I am very sicke: but in the instant that your messenger
came, in louing visitation, was with me a yong Doctor
of Rome, his name is Balthasar: I acquainted him with
the cause in Controuersie, betweene the Iew and Anthonio
the Merchant: We turn'd ore many Bookes together: hee is
furnished with my opinion, which bettred with his owne learning,
160the greatnesse whereof I cannot enough commend, comes
with him at my importunity, to fill vp your Graces request in
my sted. I beseech you, let his lacke of years be no impediment
to let him lacke a reuerend estimation: for I neuer knewe so
yong a body, with so old a head. I leaue him to your gracious
acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his commendation.
You hear the learn'd Bellario, what he writes:
And here, I take it, is the doctor come.
Enter Portia, dressed like a doctor of laws
Give me your hand. Come you from old Bellario?
Enter Portia for Balthazar.
And heere (I take it) is the Doctor come.
Giue me your hand: Came you from old Bellario?
I did, my lord.
You are welcome: take your place.
Are you acquainted with the difference
That holds this present question in the court?
Are you acquainted with the difference
That holds this present question in the Court
I am informed thoroughly of the cause.
Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew?
Which is the Merchant heere? and which the Iew?
Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth.
Is your name Shylock?
Shylock is my name.
Of a strange nature is the suit you follow;
Yet in such rule that the Venetian law
180Cannot impugn you as you do proceed.
You stand within his danger, do you not?
Yet in such rule, that the Venetian Law
Cannot impugne you as you do proceed.
You stand within his danger, do you not?
Ay, so he says.
Do you confess the bond?
I do.
Then must the Jew be merciful.
On what compulsion must I? tell me that.
The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;
190It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
The throned 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 enthroned in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God's
200When 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.
It droppeth as the gentle raine from heauen
Vpon the place beneath. It is twice blest,
It blesseth him that giues, and him that takes,
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest, it becomes
The throned Monarch better then his Crowne.
His Scepter shewes the force of temporall power,
The attribute to awe and Maiestie,
Wherein doth sit the dread and feare of Kings:
But mercy is aboue this sceptred sway,
It is enthroned in the hearts of Kings,
It is an attribute to God himselfe;
And earthly power doth then shew likest Gods
When mercie seasons Iustice. Therefore Iew,
Though Iustice be thy plea, consider this,
That in the course of Iustice, none of vs
Should see saluation: we do pray for mercie,
And that same prayer, doth teach vs all to render
The deeds of mercie. I haue spoke thus much
To mittigate the iustice of thy plea:
Which if thou follow, this strict course of Venice
Must needes giue sentence 'gainst the Merchant there
My deeds upon my head! I crave the law,
210The penalty and forfeit of my bond.
The penaltie and forfeite of my bond
Is he not able to discharge the money?
Yes, here I tender it for him in the court;
Yea, twice the sum: if that will not suffice,
I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er,
On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart:
If this will not suffice, it must appear
That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you,
Wrest once the law to your authority:
To do a great right, do a little wrong,
220And curb this cruel devil of his will.
Yea, twice the summe, if that will not suffice,
I will be bound to pay it ten times ore,
On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart:
If this will not suffice, it must appeare
That malice beares downe truth. And I beseech you
Wrest once the Law to your authority.
To do a great right, do a little wrong,
And curbe this cruell diuell of his will
It must not be; there is no power in Venice
Can alter a decree established:
'Twill be recorded for a precedent,
And many an error by the same example
Will rush into the state: it cannot be.
Can alter a decree established:
'Twill be recorded for a President,
And many an error by the same example,
Will rush into the state: It cannot be
A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel!
O wise young judge, how I do honour thee!
O wise young Iudge, how do I honour thee
I pray you, let me look upon the bond.
Here 'tis, most reverend doctor, here it is.
Shylock, there's thrice thy money offer'd thee.
An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven:
Shall I lay perjury upon my soul?
No, not for Venice.
Shall I lay periurie vpon my soule?
No not for Venice
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 thy money; bid me tear the bond.
And lawfully by this the Iew may claime
A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off
Neerest the Merchants heart; be mercifull,
Take thrice thy money, bid me teare the bond
When it is paid according to the tenor.
240It 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 judgment: by my soul I swear
There is no power in the tongue of man
To alter me: I stay here on my bond.
It doth appeare you are a worthy Iudge:
You know the Law, your exposition
Hath beene most sound. I charge you by the Law,
Whereof you are a well-deseruing pillar,
Proceede to iudgement: By my soule I sweare,
There is no power in the tongue of man
To alter me: I stay heere on my bond
Most heartily I do beseech the court
To give the judgment.
To giue the iudgement
Why then, thus it is:
250You must prepare your bosom for his knife.
You must prepare your bosome for his knife
O noble judge! O excellent young man!
For the intent and purpose of the law
Hath full relation to the penalty,
Which here appeareth due upon the bond.
Hath full relation to the penaltie,
Which heere appeareth due vpon the bond
'Tis very true: O wise and upright judge!
How much more elder art thou than thy looks!
How much more elder art thou then thy lookes?
Therefore lay bare your bosom.
Ay, his breast:
So says the bond: doth it not, noble judge?
260'Nearest his heart:' those are the very words.
So sayes the bond, doth it not noble Iudge?
Neerest his heart, those are the very words
It is so. Are there balance here to weigh
The flesh?
flesh?
I have them ready.
Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge,
To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death.
To stop his wounds, least he should bleede to death
Is it so nominated in the bond?
It is not so express'd: but what of that?
'Twere good you do so much for charity.
'Twere good you do so much for charitie
I cannot find it; 'tis not in the bond.
You, merchant, have you any thing to say?
But little: I am arm'd and well prepared.
Give me your hand, Bassanio: fare you well!
Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you;
For herein Fortune shows herself more kind
Than is her custom: it is still her use
To let the wretched man outlive his wealth,
To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow
An age of poverty; from which lingering penance
Of such misery doth she cut me off.
280Commend me to your honourable wife:
Tell her the process of Antonio's end;
Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death;
And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge
Whether Bassanio had not once a love.
Repent but you that you shall lose your friend,
And he repents not that he pays your debt;
For if the Jew do cut but deep enough,
I'll pay it presently with all my heart.
Giue me your hand Bassanio, fare you well.
Greeue not that I am falne to this for you:
For heerein fortune shewes her selfe more kinde
Then is her custome. It is still her vse
To let the wretched man out-liue his wealth,
To view with hollow eye, and wrinkled brow
An age of pouerty. From which lingring penance
Of such miserie, doth she cut me off:
Commend me to your honourable Wife,
Tell her the processe of Anthonio's end:
Say how I lou'd you; speake me faire in death:
And when the tale is told, bid her be iudge,
Whether Bassanio had not once a Loue:
Repent not you that you shall loose your friend,
And he repents not that he payes your debt.
For if the Iew do cut but deepe enough,
Ile pay it instantly, with all my heart
Antonio, I am married to a wife
290Which is as dear to me as life itself;
But life itself, my wife, and all the world,
Are not with me esteem'd above thy life:
I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all
Here to this devil, to deliver you.
Which is as deere to me as life it selfe,
But life it selfe, my wife, and all the world,
Are not with me esteem'd aboue thy life.
I would loose all, I sacrifice them all
Heere to this deuill, to deliuer you
Your wife would give you little thanks for that,
If she were by, to hear you make the offer.
If she were by to heare you make the offer
I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love:
I would she were in heaven, so she could
Entreat some power to change this currish Jew.
I would she were in heauen, so she could
Intreat some power to change this currish Iew
'Tis well you offer it behind her back;
The wish would make else an unquiet house.
The wish would make else an vnquiet house
These be the Christian husbands. I have a daughter;
Would any of the stock of Barrabas
Had been her husband rather than a Christian!
Aside
We trifle time: I pray thee, pursue sentence.
Would any of the stocke of Barrabas
Had beene her husband, rather then a Christian.
We trifle time, I pray thee pursue sentence
A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine:
The court awards it, and the law doth give it.
The Court awards it, and the law doth giue it
Most rightful judge!
And you must cut this flesh from off his breast:
310The law allows it, and the court awards it.
The Law allowes it, and the Court awards it
Most learned judge! A sentence! Come, prepare!
Tarry a little; there is something else.
This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood;
The words expressly are 'a pound of flesh:'
Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh;
But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed
One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods
Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate
Unto the state of Venice.
This bond doth giue thee heere no iot of bloud,
The words expresly are a pound of flesh:
Then take thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh,
But in the cutting it, if thou dost shed
One drop of Christian bloud, thy lands and goods
Are by the Lawes of Venice confiscate
Vnto the state of Venice
O upright judge! Mark, Jew: O learned judge!
Marke Iew, o learned Iudge
Is that the law?
Thyself shalt see the act:
For, as thou urgest justice, be assured
Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest.
For as thou vrgest iustice, be assur'd
Thou shalt haue iustice more then thou desirest
O learned judge! Mark, Jew: a learned judge!
I take this offer, then; pay the bond thrice
And let the Christian go.
And let the Christian goe
Here is the money.
Soft!
330The Jew shall have all justice; soft! no haste:
He shall have nothing but the penalty.
He shall haue nothing but the penalty
O Jew! an upright judge, a learned judge!
Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh.
Shed thou no blood, nor cut thou less nor more
But just a pound of flesh: if thou cut'st more
Or less than a just pound, be it but so much
As makes it light or heavy in the substance,
Or the division of the twentieth part
Of one poor scruple, nay, if the scale do turn
340But in the estimation of a hair,
Thou diest and all thy goods are confiscate.
Shed thou no bloud, nor cut thou lesse nor more
But iust a pound of flesh: if thou tak'st more
Or lesse then a iust pound, be it so much
As makes it light or heauy in the substance,
Or the deuision of the twentieth part
Of one poore scruple, nay if the scale doe turne
But in the estimation of a hayre,
Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate
A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew!
Now, infidel, I have you on the hip.
Now infidell I haue thee on the hip
Why doth the Jew pause? take thy forfeiture.
Give me my principal, and let me go.
I have it ready for thee; here it is.
He hath refused it in the open court:
He shall have merely justice and his bond.
He shall haue meerly iustice and his bond
A Daniel, still say I, a second Daniel!
350I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.
I thanke thee Iew for teaching me that word
Shall I not have barely my principal?
Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture,
To be so taken at thy peril, Jew.
To be taken so at thy perill Iew
Why, then the devil give him good of it!
I'll stay no longer question.
Ile stay no longer question
Tarry, Jew:
The law hath yet another hold on you.
It is enacted in the laws of Venice,
If it be proved against an alien
360That by direct or indirect attempts
He seek the life of any citizen,
The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive
Shall seize one half his goods; the other half
Comes to the privy coffer of the state;
And the offender's life lies in the mercy
Of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice.
In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st;
For it appears, by manifest proceeding,
That indirectly and directly too
370Thou hast contrived against the very life
Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr'd
The danger formerly by me rehearsed.
Down therefore and beg mercy of the duke.
The Law hath yet another hold on you.
It is enacted in the Lawes of Venice,
If it be proued against an Alien,
That by direct, or indirect attempts
He seeke the life of any Citizen,
The party gainst the which he doth contriue,
Shall seaze one halfe his goods, the other halfe
Comes to the priuie coffer of the State,
And the offenders life lies in the mercy
Of the Duke onely, gainst all other voice.
In which predicament I say thou standst:
For it appeares by manifest proceeding,
That indirectly, and directly to,
Thou hast contriu'd against the very life
Of the defendant: and thou hast incur'd
The danger formerly by me rehearst.
Downe therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke
Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself:
And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state,
Thou hast not left the value of a cord;
Therefore thou must be hang'd at the state's charge.
And yet thy wealth being forfeit to the state,
Thou hast not left the value of a cord,
Therefore thou must be hang'd at the states charge
That thou shalt see the difference of our spirits,
I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it:
380For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's;
The other half comes to the general state,
Which humbleness may drive unto a fine.
I pardon thee thy life before thou aske it:
For halfe thy wealth, it is Anthonio's
The other halfe comes to the generall state,
Which humblenesse may driue vnto a fine
Ay, for the state, not for Antonio.
Nay, take my life and all; pardon not that:
You take my house when you do take the prop
That doth sustain my house; you take my life
When you do take the means whereby I live.
You take my house, when you do take the prop
That doth sustaine my house: you take my life
When you doe take the meanes whereby I liue
What mercy can you render him, Antonio?
A halter gratis; nothing else, for God's sake.
So please my lord the duke and all the court
To quit the fine for one half of his goods,
I am content; so he will let me have
The other half in use, to render it,
Upon his death, unto the gentleman
That lately stole his daughter:
Two things provided more, that, for this favour,
He presently become a Christian;
The other, that he do record a gift,
Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd,
400Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter.
To quit the fine for one halfe of his goods,
I am content: so he will let me haue
The other halfe in vse, to render it
Vpon his death, vnto the Gentleman
That lately stole his daughter.
Two things prouided more, that for this fauour
He presently become a Christian:
The other, that he doe record a gift
Heere in the Court of all he dies possest
Vnto his sonne Lorenzo, and his daughter
He shall do this, or else I do recant
The pardon that I late pronounced here.
The pardon that I late pronounced heere
Art thou contented, Jew? what dost thou say?
I am content.
Clerk, draw a deed of gift.
I pray you, give me leave to go from hence;
I am not well: send the deed after me,
And I will sign it.
I am not well, send the deed after me,
And I will signe it
Get thee gone, but do it.
In christening shalt thou have two god-fathers:
Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more,
To bring thee to the gallows, not the font.
Exit Shylock
Had I been iudge, thou shouldst haue had ten more,
To bring thee to the gallowes, not to the font.
Exit.
Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner.
I humbly do desire your grace of pardon:
I must away this night toward Padua,
And it is meet I presently set forth.
I must away this night toward Padua,
And it is meete I presently set forth
I am sorry that your leisure serves you not.
Antonio, gratify this gentleman,
For, in my mind, you are much bound to him.
Exeunt Duke and his train
Anthonio, gratifie this gentleman,
For in my minde you are much bound to him.
Exit Duke and his traine.
Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend
Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted
Of grievous penalties; in lieu whereof,
Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew,
We freely cope your courteous pains withal.
Haue by your wisedome beene this day acquitted
Of greeuous penalties, in lieu whereof,
Three thousand Ducats due vnto the Iew
We freely cope your curteous paines withall
And stand indebted, over and above,
In love and service to you evermore.
In loue and seruice to you euermore
He is well paid that is well satisfied;
And I, delivering you, am satisfied
And therein do account myself well paid:
430My mind was never yet more mercenary.
I pray you, know me when we meet again:
I wish you well, and so I take my leave.
And I deliuering you, am satisfied,
And therein doe account my selfe well paid,
My minde was neuer yet more mercinarie.
I pray you know me when we meete againe,
I wish you well, and so I take my leaue
Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further:
Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute,
Not as a fee: grant me two things, I pray you,
Not to deny me, and to pardon me.
Take some remembrance of vs as a tribute,
Not as fee: grant me two things, I pray you
Not to denie me, and to pardon me
You press me far, and therefore I will yield.
To Antonio
Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for your sake;
To Bassanio
And, for your love, I'll take this ring from you:
440Do not draw back your hand; I'll take no more;
And you in love shall not deny me this.
Giue me your gloues, Ile weare them for your sake,
And for your loue Ile take this ring from you,
Doe not draw backe your hand, ile take no more,
And you in loue shall not deny me this?
This ring, good sir, alas, it is a trifle!
I will not shame myself to give you this.
I will not shame my selfe to giue you this
I will have nothing else but only this;
And now methinks I have a mind to it.
And now methinkes I haue a minde to it
There's more depends on this than on the value.
The dearest ring in Venice will I give you,
And find it out by proclamation:
Only for this, I pray you, pardon me.
The dearest ring in Venice will I giue you,
And finde it out by proclamation,
Onely for this I pray you pardon me
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.
You taught me first to beg, and now me thinkes
You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd
Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife;
And when she put it on, she made me vow
That I should neither sell nor give nor lose it.
And when she put it on, she made me vow
That I should neither sell, nor giue, nor lose it
That 'scuse serves many men to save their gifts.
An if your wife be not a mad-woman,
And know how well I have deserved the ring,
She would not hold out enemy for ever,
460For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you!
Exeunt Portia and Nerissa
And if your wife be not a mad woman,
And know how well I haue deseru'd this ring,
Shee would not hold out enemy for euer
For giuing it to me: well, peace be with you.
Exeunt.
My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring:
Let his deservings and my love withal
Be valued against your wife's commandment.
Let his deseruings and my loue withall
Be valued against your wiues commandement
Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him;
Give him the ring, and bring him, if thou canst,
Unto Antonio's house: away! make haste.
Exit Gratiano
Come, you and I will thither presently;
And in the morning early will we both
Fly toward Belmont: come, Antonio.
Exeunt
Giue him the ring, and bring him if thou canst
Vnto Anthonios house, away, make haste.
Exit Grati.
Come, you and I will thither presently,
And in the morning early will we both
Flie toward Belmont, come Anthonio.
Exeunt.
Act IV. Scene II. The same. A street.
Enter Portia and Nerissa
Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this deed
And let him sign it: we'll away toight
And be a day before our husbands home:
This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo.
Enter Portia and Nerrissa.
And let him signe it, wee'll away to night,
And be a day before our husbands home:
This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo.
Enter Gratiano
Fair sir, you are well o'erta'en
My Lord Bassanio upon more advice
Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat
Your company at dinner.
Enter Gratiano.
My L[ord]. Bassanio vpon more aduice,
Hath sent you heere this ring, and doth intreat
Your company at dinner
That cannot be:
10His ring I do accept most thankfully:
And so, I pray you, tell him: furthermore,
I pray you, show my youth old Shylock's house.
His ring I doe accept most thankfully,
And so I pray you tell him: furthermore,
I pray you shew my youth old Shylockes house
That will I do.
Sir, I would speak with you.
Aside to Portia
I'll see if I can get my husband's ring,
Which I did make him swear to keep for ever.
Ile see if I can get my husbands ring
Which I did make him sweare to keepe for euer
[Aside to Nerissa] Thou mayst, I warrant.
We shall have old swearing
That they did give the rings away to men;
20But we'll outface them, and outswear them too.
Aloud
Away! make haste: thou knowist where I will tarry.
That they did giue the rings away to men;
But weele out-face them, and out-sweare them to:
Away, make haste, thou know'st where I will tarry
Come, good sir, will you show me to this house?
Exeunt
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus.
Act V
Act V. Scene I. Belmont. Avenue to Portia's house.
Enter Lorenzo and Jessica
The moon shines bright: in such a night as this,
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees
And they did make no noise, in such a night
Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls
And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents,
Where Cressid lay that night.
Enter Lorenzo and Iessica.
When the sweet winde did gently kisse the trees,
And they did make no noyse, in such a night
Troylus me thinkes mounted the Troian walls,
And sigh'd his soule toward the Grecian tents
Where Cressed lay that night
In such a night
Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself
10And ran dismay'd away.
Did Thisbie fearefully ore-trip the dewe,
And saw the Lyons shadow ere himselfe,
And ranne dismayed away
In such a night
Stood Dido with a willow in her hand
Upon the wild sea banks and waft her love
To come again to Carthage.
Stood Dido with a Willow in her hand
Vpon the wilde sea bankes, and waft her Loue
To come againe to Carthage
In such a night
Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs
That did renew old AEson.
Medea gathered the inchanted hearbs
That did renew old Eson
In such a night
Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew
20And with an unthrift love did run from Venice
As far as Belmont.
Did Iessica steale from the wealthy Iewe,
And with an Vnthrift Loue did runne from Venice,
As farre as Belmont
In such a night
Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well,
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith
And ne'er a true one.
Did young Lorenzo sweare he lou'd her well,
Stealing her soule with many vowes of faith,
And nere a true one
In such a night
Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,
Slander her love, and he forgave it her.
Did pretty Iessica (like a little shrow)
Slander her Loue, and he forgaue it her
I would out-night you, did no body come;
30But, hark, I hear the footing of a man.
But harke, I heare the footing of a man.
Enter Stephano
Who comes so fast in silence of the night?
Enter Messenger.
A friend.
A friend! what friend? your name, I pray you, friend?
Stephano is my name; and I bring word
My mistress will before the break of day
Be here at Belmont; she doth stray about
By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays
For happy wedlock hours.
My Mistresse will before the breake of day
Be heere at Belmont, she doth stray about
By holy crosses where she kneeles and prayes
For happy wedlocke houres
Who comes with her?
None but a holy hermit and her maid.
I pray you, is my master yet return'd?
I pray you is my Master yet return'd?
He is not, nor we have not heard from him.
But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica,
And ceremoniously let us prepare
Some welcome for the mistress of the house.
But goe we in I pray thee Iessica,
And ceremoniously let vs prepare
Some welcome for the Mistresse of the house,
Enter Launcelot
Sola, sola! wo ha, ho! sola, sola!
Enter Clowne.
Who calls?
Sola! did you see Master Lorenzo?
Master Lorenzo, sola, sola!
sola,
Leave hollaing, man: here.
Sola! where? where?
Here.
Tell him there's a post come from my master, with
his horn full of good news: my master will be here
ere morning.
Exit
his horne full of good newes, my Master will be here ere
morning sweete soule
Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their coming.
And yet no matter: why should we go in?
My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you,
Within the house, your mistress is at hand;
60And bring your music forth into the air.
Exit Stephano
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold:
There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins;
70Such harmony is in immortal souls;
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
Enter Musicians
Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn!
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,
And draw her home with music.
Music
And yet no matter: why should we goe in?
My friend Stephen, signifie pray you
Within the house, your Mistresse is at hand,
And bring your musique foorth into the ayre.
How sweet the moone-light sleepes vpon this banke,
Heere will we sit, and let the sounds of musicke
Creepe in our eares soft stilnes, and the night
Become the tutches of sweet harmonie:
Sit Iessica, looke how the floore of heauen
Is thicke inlayed with pattens of bright gold,
There's not the smallest orbe which thou beholdst
But in his motion like an Angell sings,
Still quiring to the young eyed Cherubins;
Such harmonie is in immortall soules,
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grosly close in it, we cannot heare it:
Come hoe, and wake Diana with a hymne,
With sweetest tutches pearce your Mistresse eare,
And draw her home with musicke
I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
Play musicke.
The reason is, your spirits are attentive:
For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,
80Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,
Which is the hot condition of their blood;
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,
Or any air of music touch their ears,
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze
By the sweet power of music: therefore the poet
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods;
Since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage,
But music for the time doth change his nature.
90The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night
And his affections dark as Erebus:
Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music.
For doe but note a wilde and wanton heard
Or race of youthful and vnhandled colts,
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,
Which is the hot condition of their bloud,
If they but heare perchance a trumpet sound,
Or any ayre of musicke touch their eares,
You shall perceiue them make a mutuall stand,
Their sauage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze,
By the sweet power of musicke: therefore the Poet
Did faine that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods.
Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage,
But musicke for time doth change his nature,
The man that hath no musicke in himselfe,
Nor is not moued with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoyles,
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections darke as Erobus,
Let no such man be trusted: marke the musicke.
Enter Portia and Nerissa
That light we see is burning in my hall.
How far that little candle throws his beams!
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
Enter Portia and Nerrissa.
How farre that little candell throwes his beames,
So shines a good deed in a naughty world
When the moon shone, we did not see the candle.
So doth the greater glory dim the less:
A substitute shines brightly as a king
Unto the king be by, and then his state
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook
Into the main of waters. Music! hark!
A substitute shines brightly as a King
Vntill a King be by, and then his state
Empties it selfe, as doth an inland brooke
Into the maine of waters: musique, harke.
Musicke.
It is your music, madam, of the house.
Nothing is good, I see, without respect:
Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day.
Methinkes it sounds much sweeter then by day?
Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.
The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark,
110When neither is attended, and I think
The nightingale, if she should sing by day,
When every goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the wren.
How many things by season season'd are
To their right praise and true perfection!
Peace, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion
And would not be awaked.
Music ceases
When neither is attended: and I thinke
The Nightingale if she should sing by day
When euery Goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a Musitian then the Wren?
How many things by season, season'd are
To their right praise, and true perfection:
Peace, how the Moone sleepes with Endimion,
And would not be awak'd.
Musicke ceases.
That is the voice,
Or I am much deceived, of Portia.
Or I am much deceiu'd of Portia
He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo,
By the bad voice.
Cuckow by the bad voice?
Dear lady, welcome home.
We have been praying for our husbands' healths,
Which speed, we hope, the better for our words.
Are they return'd?
Which speed we hope the better for our words,
Are they return'd?
Madam, they are not yet;
But there is come a messenger before,
To signify their coming.
But there is come a Messenger before
To signifie their comming
Go in, Nerissa;
130Give order to my servants that they take
No note at all of our being absent hence;
Nor you, Lorenzo; Jessica, nor you.
A tucket sounds
Giue order to my seruants, that they take
No note at all of our being absent hence,
Nor you Lorenzo, Iessica nor you.
A Tucket sounds.
Your husband is at hand; I hear his trumpet:
We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not.
We are no tell-tales Madam, feare you not
This night methinks is but the daylight sick;
It looks a little paler: 'tis a day,
Such as the day is when the sun is hid.
It lookes a little paler, 'tis a day,
Such as the day is, when the Sun is hid.
Enter Bassanio, Antonio, Gratiano, and their followers
We should hold day with the Antipodes,
If you would walk in absence of the sun.
Enter Bassanio, Anthonio, Gratiano, and their Followers.
If you would walke in absence of the sunne
Let me give light, but let me not be light;
For a light wife doth make a heavy husband,
And never be Bassanio so for me:
But God sort all! You are welcome home, my lord.
For a light wife doth make a heauie husband,
And neuer be Bassanio so for me,
But God sort all: you are welcome home my Lord
I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my friend.
This is the man, this is Antonio,
To whom I am so infinitely bound.
This is the man, this is Anthonio,
To whom I am so infinitely bound
You should in all sense be much bound to him.
For, as I hear, he was much bound for you.
For as I heare he was much bound for you
No more than I am well acquitted of.
Sir, you are very welcome to our house:
It must appear in other ways than words,
Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.
It must appeare in other waies then words,
Therefore I scant this breathing curtesie
[To Nerissa] By yonder moon I swear you do me wrong;
In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk:
Would he were gelt that had it, for my part,
Since you do take it, love, so much at heart.
Infaith I gaue it to the Iudges Clearke,
Would he were gelt that had it for my part,
Since you do take it Loue so much at hart
A quarrel, ho, already! what's the matter?
About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
That she did give me, whose posy was
160For all the world like cutler's poetry
Upon a knife, 'Love me, and leave me not.'
That she did giue me, whose Poesie was
For all the world like Cutlers Poetry
Vpon a knife; Loue mee, and leaue mee not
What talk you of the posy or the value?
You swore to me, when I did give it you,
That you would wear it till your hour of death
And that it should lie with you in your grave:
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,
You should have been respective and have kept it.
Gave it a judge's clerk! no, God's my judge,
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it.
You swore to me when I did giue it you,
That you would weare it til the houre of death,
And that it should lye with you in your graue,
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,
You should haue beene respectiue and haue kept it.
Gaue it a Iudges Clearke: but wel I know
The Clearke wil nere weare haire on's face that had it
He will, an if he live to be a man.
Ay, if a woman live to be a man.
Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth,
A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy,
No higher than thyself; the judge's clerk,
A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee:
I could not for my heart deny it him.
A kinde of boy, a little scrubbed boy,
No higher then thy selfe, the Iudges Clearke,
A prating boy that begg'd it as a Fee,
I could not for my heart deny it him
You were to blame, I must be plain with you,
To part so slightly with your wife's first gift:
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger
180And so riveted with faith unto your flesh.
I gave my love a ring and made him swear
Never to part with it; and here he stands;
I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it
Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth
That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano,
You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief:
An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it.
To part so slightly with your wiues first gift,
A thing stucke on with oathes vpon your finger,
And so riueted with faith vnto your flesh.
I gaue my Loue a Ring, and made him sweare
Neuer to part with it, and heere he stands:
I dare be sworne for him, he would not leaue it,
Nor plucke it from his finger, for the wealth
That the world masters. Now in faith Gratiano,
You giue your wife too vnkinde a cause of greefe,
And 'twere to me I should be mad at it
[Aside] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off
And swear I lost the ring defending it.
And sweare I lost the Ring defending it
My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away
Unto the judge that begg'd it and indeed
Deserved it too; and then the boy, his clerk,
That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine;
And neither man nor master would take aught
But the two rings.
Vnto the Iudge that beg'd it, and indeede
Deseru'd it too: and then the Boy his Clearke
That tooke some paines in writing, he begg'd mine,
And neyther man nor master would take ought
But the two Rings
What ring gave you my lord?
Not that, I hope, which you received of me.
Not that I hope which you receiu'd of me
If I could add a lie unto a fault,
I would deny it; but you see my finger
200Hath not the ring upon it; it is gone.
I would deny it: but you see my finger
Hath not the Ring vpon it, it is gone
Even so void is your false heart of truth.
By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed
Until I see the ring.
By heauen I wil nere come in your bed
Vntil I see the Ring
Nor I in yours
Till I again see mine.
Sweet Portia,
If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
If you did know for whom I gave the ring
And would conceive for what I gave the ring
210And how unwillingly I left the ring,
When nought would be accepted but the ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure.
If you did know to whom I gaue the Ring,
If you did know for whom I gaue the Ring,
And would conceiue for what I gaue the Ring,
And how vnwillingly I left the Ring,
When nought would be accepted but the Ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure?
If you had known the virtue of the ring,
Or half her worthiness that gave the ring,
Or your own honour to contain the ring,
You would not then have parted with the ring.
What man is there so much unreasonable,
If you had pleased to have defended it
With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty
220To urge the thing held as a ceremony?
Nerissa teaches me what to believe:
I'll die for't but some woman had the ring.
Or halfe her worthinesse that gaue the Ring,
Or your owne honour to containe the Ring,
You would not then haue parted with the Ring:
What man is there so much vnreasonable,
If you had pleas'd to haue defended it
With any termes of Zeale: wanted the modestie
To vrge the thing held as a ceremonie:
Nerrissa teaches me what to beleeue,
Ile die for't, but some Woman had the Ring?
No, by my honour, madam, by my soul,
No woman had it, but a civil doctor,
Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me
And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him
And suffer'd him to go displeased away;
Even he that did uphold the very life
Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady?
230I was enforced to send it after him;
I was beset with shame and courtesy;
My honour would not let ingratitude
So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady;
For, by these blessed candles of the night,
Had you been there, I think you would have begg'd
The ring of me to give the worthy doctor.
No Woman had it, but a ciuill Doctor,
Which did refuse three thousand Ducates of me,
And beg'd the Ring; the which I did denie him,
And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away:
Euen he that had held vp the verie life
Of my deere friend. What should I say sweete Lady?
I was inforc'd to send it after him,
I was beset with shame and curtesie,
My honor would not let ingratitude
So much besmeare it. Pardon me good Lady,
And by these blessed Candles of the night,
Had you bene there, I thinke you would haue beg'd
The Ring of me, to giue the worthie Doctor?
Let not that doctor e'er come near my house:
Since he hath got the jewel that I loved,
And that which you did swear to keep for me,
240I will become as liberal as you;
I'll not deny him any thing I have,
No, not my body nor my husband's bed:
Know him I shall, I am well sure of it:
Lie not a night from home; watch me like Argus:
If you do not, if I be left alone,
Now, by mine honour, which is yet mine own,
I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow.
Since he hath got the iewell that I loued,
And that which you did sweare to keepe for me,
I will become as liberall as you,
Ile not deny him any thing I haue,
No, not my body, nor my husbands bed:
Know him I shall, I am well sure of it.
Lie not a night from home. Watch me like Argos,
If you doe not, if I be left alone,
Now by mine honour which is yet mine owne,
Ile haue the Doctor for my bedfellow
And I his clerk; therefore be well advised
How you do leave me to mine own protection.
How you doe leaue me to mine owne protection
Well, do you so; let not me take him, then;
For if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen.
For if I doe, ile mar the yong Clarks pen
I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels.
Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome notwithstanding.
You are welcome notwithstanding
Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong;
And, in the hearing of these many friends,
I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes,
Wherein I see myself--
And in the hearing of these manie friends
I sweare to thee, euen by thine owne faire eyes
Wherein I see my selfe
Mark you but that!
In both my eyes he doubly sees himself;
260In each eye, one: swear by your double self,
And there's an oath of credit.
In both my eyes he doubly sees himselfe:
In each eye one, sweare by your double selfe,
And there's an oath of credit
Nay, but hear me:
Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear
I never more will break an oath with thee.
Pardon this fault, and by my soule I sweare
I neuer more will breake an oath with thee
I once did lend my body for his wealth;
Which, but for him that had your husband's ring,
Had quite miscarried: I dare be bound again,
My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord
Will never more break faith advisedly.
Which but for him that had your husbands ring
Had quite miscarried. I dare be bound againe,
My soule vpon the forfeit, that your Lord
Will neuer more breake faith aduisedlie
Then you shall be his surety. Give him this
And bid him keep it better than the other.
And bid him keepe it better then the other
Here, Lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring.
By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor!
I had it of him: pardon me, Bassanio;
For, by this ring, the doctor lay with me.
For by this ring the Doctor lay with me
And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano;
For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk,
In lieu of this last night did lie with me.
For that same scrubbed boy the Doctors Clarke
In liew of this, last night did lye with me
Why, this is like the mending of highways
280In summer, where the ways are fair enough:
What, are we cuckolds ere we have deserved it?
In Sommer, where the waies are faire enough:
What, are we Cuckolds ere we haue deseru'd it
Speak not so grossly. You are all amazed:
Here is a letter; read it at your leisure;
It comes from Padua, from Bellario:
There you shall find that Portia was the doctor,
Nerissa there her clerk: Lorenzo here
Shall witness I set forth as soon as you
And even but now return'd; I have not yet
Enter'd my house. Antonio, you are welcome;
290And I have better news in store for you
Than you expect: unseal this letter soon;
There you shall find three of your argosies
Are richly come to harbour suddenly:
You shall not know by what strange accident
I chanced on this letter.
Heere is a letter, reade it at your leysure,
It comes from Padua from Bellario,
There you shall finde that Portia was the Doctor,
Nerrissa there her Clarke. Lorenzo heere
Shall witnesse I set forth as soone as you,
And but eu'n now return'd: I haue not yet
Entred my house. Anthonio you are welcome,
And I haue better newes in store for you
Then you expect: vnseale this letter soone,
There you shall finde three of your Argosies
Are richly come to harbour sodainlie.
You shall not know by what strange accident
I chanced on this letter
I am dumb.
Were you the doctor and I knew you not?
Were you the clerk that is to make me cuckold?
Ay, but the clerk that never means to do it,
300Unless he live until he be a man.
Vnlesse he liue vntill he be a man
Sweet doctor, you shall be my bed-fellow:
When I am absent, then lie with my wife.
When I am absent, then lie with my wife
Sweet lady, you have given me life and living;
For here I read for certain that my ships
Are safely come to road.
For heere I reade for certaine that my ships
Are safelie come to Rode
How now, Lorenzo!
My clerk hath some good comforts too for you.
My Clarke hath some good comforts to for you
Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee.
There do I give to you and Jessica,
310From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift,
After his death, of all he dies possess'd of.
There doe I giue to you and Iessica
From the rich Iewe, a speciall deed of gift
After his death, of all he dies possess'd of
Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way
Of starved people.
Of starued people
It is almost morning,
And yet I am sure you are not satisfied
Of these events at full. Let us go in;
And charge us there upon inter'gatories,
And we will answer all things faithfully.
And yet I am sure you are not satisfied
Of these euents at full. Let vs goe in,
And charge vs there vpon intergatories,
And we will answer all things faithfully
Let it be so: the first inter'gatory
320That my Nerissa shall be sworn on is,
Whether till the next night she had rather stay,
Or go to bed now, being two hours today:
But were the day come, I should wish it dark,
That I were couching with the doctor's clerk.
Well, while I live I'll fear no other thing
So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring.
Exeunt
That my Nerrissa shall be sworne on, is,
Whether till the next night she had rather stay,
Or goe to bed, now being two houres to day,
But were the day come, I should wish it darke,
Till I were couching with the Doctors Clarke.
Well, while I liue, Ile feare no other thing
So sore, as keeping safe Nerrissas ring.
Exeunt.
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