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Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your Por. You know I say nothing to him, for he miseries were in the same abundance as yourgood understands not me, nor I him : he hath neither fortunes are: and yet, for aught I see, they are Latin, French, nor Italian, and you will come as sick that surfeit with too much as they that into the court and swear that I have a poor starve with nothing. It is no mean happiness pennyworth in the English. He is a proper therefore, to be seated in the mean : superfluity man's picture, but, alas ! who can converse with comes sooner by white hairs, but competency a dumb-show? How oddly he is suited! I think lives longer.

10 he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose Por. Good sentences and well pronounced. in France, his bonnet in Germany, and his Ner. They would be better if well followed. behaviour every where.

Por. If to do were as easy as to know what Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his were good to do, chapels had been churches, and neighbour ! poor men's cottages princes' palaces. It is a Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him, good divine that follows his own instructions : for he borrowed a box of the ear of the EnglishI can easier teach twenty what were good to be man, and swore he would pay him again when done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine he was able : I think the Frenchman became own teaching. The brain may devise laws for his surety and sealed under for another. the blood, but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold Ner. How like you the young German, the decree : such a hare is madness the youth, to Duke of Saxony's nephew? skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the cripple. Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he is But this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose sober, and most vilely in the afternoon, when he me a husband. O me, the word 'choose'! I may is drunk: when he is best, he is a little worse neither choose whom I would nor refuse whom than a man, and when he is worst, he is little I dislike ; so is the will of a living daughter better than a beast. An the worst fall that ever curbed by the will of a dead father. Is it not fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without him. hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose one nor Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose refuse none ?

29 the right casket, you should refuse to perform your Ner. Your father was ever virtuous, and holy father's will, if you should refuse to accept him. men at their death have good inspirations ; Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray therefore the lottery that he hath devised in thee, set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the these three chests of gold, silver, and lead, whereof contrary casket, for if the devil be within and who chooses his meaning chooses you, will, no that temptation without, I know he will choose doubt, never be chosen by any rightly but one it. I will do anything, Nerissa, ere I'll be who you shall rightly love. But what warmth is married to a sponge. there in your affection towards any of these Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any princely snitors that are already come?

of these lords: they have acquainted me with their Por. I pray thee, over-name them, and as thou determinations ; which is, indeed, to return to namest them, I will describe them; and, accord- their home and to trouble you with no more suit, ing to my description, level at my affection. unless you may be won by some other sort than

Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince, your father's imposition depending on the caskets.

Por. Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die nothing but talk of his horse; and he makes it as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the a great appropriation to his own good parts that manner of my father's will. I am glad this parcel he can shoe him himself. I am much afeard of wooers are so reasonable, for there is not one my lady his mother played false with a smith. among them but I dote on his very absence, and

Ner. Then is there the County Palatine. I pray God grant them a fair departure.

Por. He doth nothing but frown, as who Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your should say, “If you will not have me, choose.' father's time, a Venetian, a scholar and a soldier, He hears merry tales, and smiles not : I fear he that came hither in company of the Marquis of will prove the weeping philosopher when he Montferrat? grows old, being so full of unmannerly sadness Por. Yes, yes : it was Bassanio; as I think, in his youth. I had rather be married to a he was so called. death's-head with a bone in his mouth than to Ner. True, madam : he, of all the men that either of these. God defend me from these ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best two!

deserving a fair lady. Ner. How say you by the French lord, Mon. Por. I remember him well, and I remember sieur Le Bon !

50 him worthy of thy praise. Por. God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to

Enter a Scrrant. be a mocker; but, he! why, he hath a horse How now! what news? better than the Neapolitan’s, a better bad habit Serv. The four strangers seek for you, madam, of frowning than the Count Palatine ; he is every to take their leave ; and there is a forerunner man in no man; if a throstle sing, he falls straight come from a fifth, the Prince of Morocco, who a-capering; he will fence with his own shadow: brings word the prince his master will be here if I should marry him, I should marry twenty to-night. husbands. If he would despise me, I would Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so forgive him, for if he love me to madness, I good heart as I can bid the other four farewell, shall never requite him.

70 I should be glad of his approach : if he have the Ner. What say you then to Falconbridge, the condition of a saint and the complexion of adevil, young baron of England ?

I had rather he should shrive me than wire me.




Come, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before.
Whiles we shut the gate upon one wooer, another
knocks at the door.

SCENE III-Venice. A public Place.

141 | Will furnish me. But soft! how many months Do you desire? To ANTONIO. Rest you fair, good signior;


Shy. Three thousand ducats; well?
Bass. Ay, sir, for three months.
Shy. For three months; well?

Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound.

Shy. Antonio shall become bound; well?

Bass. May you stead me? Will you pleasure me? Shall I know your answer?

Shy. Three thousand ducats, for three months,

and Antonio bound.


Bass. Your answer to that.

Shy. Antonio is a good man.

Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the


Shy. 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 and waterrats, 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.

Bugs. Be assured you may.


Shy. I will be assured I may; and, that I may be assured, I will bethink me. May I speak

with Antonio?

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I hate him for he is a Christian;
But more for that in low simplicity
He leads out money gratis, and brings down
The 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, 51
Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe,
If I forgive him!

Your worship was the last man in our mouths.
Ant. Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor borrow
By taking nor by giving of excess,
Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend,
I'll break a custom. Is he yet possess'd
How much ye would?


Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. Ant. And for three months.

Shy. I had forgot; three months; you told


Shylock, do you hear?

Shy. I am debating of my present store,
And, 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,

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Directly interest: mark what Jacob did.
When Laban and himself were compromis'd,
That all the canlings which were streak'd and pied
Should fall as Jacob's hire, the ewes, being rank,
In 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.

Ant. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob serv'd

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?
Shy. I cannot tell; I make it breed as fast:
But note me, signior.


Bass. This is Signior Antonio.

Shy. Aside. How like a fawning publican he Is like a villain with a smiling cheek,

A goodly apple rotten at the heart.

O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!
Shy. Three thousand ducats; 'tis a good
round sum.
Three months from twelve, then let me see the

Ant. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to

Shy. 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,
For 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,


Mark you this, Bassanio,
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.
An evil soul, producing holy witness,




'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.
What should I say to you? Should I not say,
'Hath a dog money? Is it possible
A cur can lend three thousand ducats'?
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'?

Ant. I am as like to call thee so again,
To 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
A breed for barren metal of his friend?
But lend it rather to thine enemy;
Who, if he break, thou my'st with better face
Exact the penalty.
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
Supply your present wants, and take no doit
Of usance for my moneys, and you'll not hear me:
This is kind I offer.


Ant. 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
Be nominated for an equal pound
Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken
In what part of your body pleaseth me.

Ant. Content, i' faith: I'll seal to such a bond,
And say there is much kindness in the Jew.

Bass. You shall not seal to such a bond for me:
I'll rather dwell in my necessity.

Ant. 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
Of thrice three times the value of this bond. 160
Shy. O father Abram! what these Christians




Mor. 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 inci-ion for your love,
take 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
The best-regarded virgins of our clime
Have lov'd it too: I would not change this hue,
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen.
Por. 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 hedg'd me by his wit, to yield myself
His wife who wins me by that means I told you,
Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair »
As any comer I have look'd on yet
For my affection.

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?

Ant. Come on in this there can be no dismay, My ships come home a month before the day. Exeunt.

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:
If he will take it, so; if not, adieu;
And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not.
Ant. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond.
Shy. 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.

Hie thee, gentle Jew.
This Hebrew will turn Christian: he grows kind.
Bess. I like not fair terms and a villain's mind.



SCENE I.-Belmont. A Room in PORTIA'S

Flourish of Cornets. Enter the Prince of MOROCCO, and his Followers; PORTIA, NERISSA, and others of her Train.

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,
Pluck 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.


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 advis'd.

Mor. Nor will not come, bring me unto my chance.


Por. First, forward to the temple: after dinner Your hazard shall be made.


Good fortune then! To make me blest or cursed'st among men. Cornets, and excunt.

SCENE II.-Venice. A Street.

Laun. 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 pack: 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. Conscience,' say I, you counsel well'; 'fiend,' say I, 'you counsel well' to be ruled by my conscience, 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 friendly counsel: I will run, fiend; my heels are at your commandment; I will run.




Enter Old GOBBO, with a basket.

Gob. Master young man, you; I pray you, which is the way to Master Jew's?

Laun. 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.

Grob Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to Master Jew's?


Laun. Turn up on your right hand at the next turning, but at 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.

Gob. 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?

Laun. Talk you of young Ma-ter Launcelot? Aside. Mark me now; now will I raise the waters. Talk you of young Master Launcelot ?


Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man's son: his father, though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man, and, God be thanked, well to live. Laun. Well, let his father be what a' will, we talk of young Master Launcelot.

Gob. Your worship's friend, and Launcelot, sir. Lann. But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you, talk you of young Master Launcelot? Gob. Of Launcelot, an 't please your mastership.


Laun. Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master Launcelot, father; for the young gentleman, according 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.

Gob. Marry, God forbid! the boy was the very staff of my age, my very prop. 70

• Laun. Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or a prop? Do you know me, father?

Gob. Alack the day! I know you not, young gentleman; but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy, God rest his soul! alive or dead?

Laun. Do you not know me, father?

Gob. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind; I know you not.


Laun. 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 in the end truth will out.

Gob. Pray you, sir, stand up. I am sure you are not Launcelot, my boy.

Lun. 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.


Gob. I cannot think you are my son.

Laun. 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.

Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed: I'll be sworn, if thou be 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 thill-horse has on his tail.


Lann. 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.

Gob. Lord! how art thou changed. How dost thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a present. How 'gree you now?

Laun. 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 am a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer.


Enter BASSANIO, with LEONARDO, and other Followers.

Bass. You may do so; but let it be so hasted that supper be ready at the furthest 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.

Laun. To him, father.

Gob. God bless your worship!
Bass. Gramercy! Would'st thou aught with me?
Gob. Here's my son, sir, a poor boy,-

Laun. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man; that would, sir, as my father shall specify,


Gob. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to serve

Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, and have a desire, as my father shall specify,—

Gob. His master and he, saving your worship's reverence, are scarce cater-cousins,

Laun. 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,


Gob. I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow upon your worship, and my suit is,

Laun. 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.

Bass. One speak for both. What would you? Laun. Serve you, sir.


Gob. That is the very defect of the matter, sir. Bass. 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
To leave a rich Jew's service, to become
The follower of so poor a gentleman.

Laun. 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. Bass. Thou speak'st it well. Go, father, with SCENE III.-The Same.

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.

Lau. Father, in. I cannot get a service, no; I have ne'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: a 'leven 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, come; I'll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye.


Buss. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this. These things being bought, and orderly bestow'd, Return in haste, for I do feast to-night My best-esteem'd acquaintance: hie thee, go. Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein.



Gra. Where is your master?
Yonder, sir, he walks. Exit.
Gra. Signior Bassanio!
Bass. Gratiano!

Gra. I have a suit to you.


You have obtain❜d it. Gra. You must not deny me: I must go with you to Belmont.

Bass. Why, then you must. But hear thee, Gratiano;



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,
Like one well studied in a sad ostent
To please his grandam, never trust me more.
Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing.
Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night; you shall not
gage me

By what we do 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.

Gra. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest; But we will visit you at supper-time. Excunt.

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

Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain
To allay with some cold drops of modesty
Thy skipping spirit, lest through thy wild


I be misconstrued in the place I go to,
And lose my hopes.


A Room in SHYLOCK'S House.

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