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-
I 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,

90

And when I ope my lips let no dog bark!'
O my Antonio, I do know of these
That therefore only are reputed wise
For saying nothing, when, I am very sure,
If they should speak, would almost damn
those ears
[fools.
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers
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.

100

Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner-time :

I must be one of these same dumb wise men, For Gratiano never lets me speak.

Gra. Well, keep me company but two years moe,

Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.

[gear.

Ant. Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this Gra. Thanks, i' faith, for silence is only commendable

110

In a neat's tongue dried and a maid not vendible. [Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo. Ant. Is that any thing now?

BLSS. 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 shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the search.

Ant. Well, tell me now what lady is the

130

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.
Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me
know it;

And if it stand, as you yourself still do,
Within the eye of honor, be assured,
My purse, my person, my extremest means,
Lie all unlock'd to your occasions.

Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft,

140

To wind about my love with circumstance;
And out of doubt you do me now more wrong
In making question of my uttermost
Than 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. 160
Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left;
And she is fair, and, fairer than that word,
Of wondrous virtues: sometimes from her
eyes

I did receive fair speechless messages:
Her name is Portia, nothing undervalued
To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia :
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth,
For the four winds blow in from every coast
Renowned suitors, and her sunny locks
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece; 170
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!
Ant. Thou know'st that all my fortunes are

at sea;

180

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.

SCENE II. Belmont. A room in PORTIA'S house.

Enter PORTIA and NERISSA.

Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of this great world.

Ner. 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.

10

Por. Good sentences and well pronounced, Ner. They would be better, if well followed. Por. 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 youth, 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 ?

29

Ner. 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, silver 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?

Por. I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou namest them, I will describe them; and, according to my description, level at my affection.

Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. Por. Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but talk 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.

Ner. Then there is the County Palatine.

Por. He doth nothing but frown, as who should say 'If you will not have me, choose:' he hears merry tales and siniles 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 married to A death's-head with a bone in his mouth than to either of these. God defend me from these two!

Ner. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon ?

Por. 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 fence with his own shadow: if I should marry him, f 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. 70 Ner. What say you, then, to Falconbridge, the young baron of England?

Por. 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. He 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.

Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbor?

Por. That he hath a neighborly charity in him, for he borrowed a box of the car of the Englishman and swore he would pay him again when he was able: I think the Frenchman became his surety and sealed under for another.

Ner. How like you the young German, the Duke of Saxony's nephew?

91

Por. 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: an the worst fall that ever fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without him.

Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right casket, you should refuse to perform your father's will, if you should refuse to accept him.

Per. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, set a deep glass of rhenish wine ou the contrary casket, for if the devil be within and that temptation withont, I know he will choose it. I will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I'll be married to a sponge.

Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of these lords: they have acquainted ne with their determinations; which is, indeed. to return to their home and to trouble you with no more suit, unless you may be won by some other sort than your father's imposition depending on the caskets.

Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I wil die as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner of my father's will. I am glad thi parcel of wooers are so reasonable, for ther is not one among them but I dote on his ver absence, and I pray God grant them a fair de parture.

Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in you father's time, a Venetian, a scholar and

Sert. The four strangers seek for you, adam, to take their leave: and there is a forerunner come from a fifth, the Prince of Morocco, who brings word the prince his master will be here to-night. 139 Por If I could bid the fifth welcome with 80 good a heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I should be glad of his approach: if be have the condition of a saint and the comHerion of a devil, I had rather he should skrive me than wive me.

Cone. Nerissa. Sirral, go before. Wiles we shut the gates upon one wooer, another knocks at the door. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. Venice. A public place.

Enter BASSANIO and SHYLOCK.

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

Bus. For the which, as I told you, Antono shall be bound.

shy. Antonio shall become bound; well. Diss. May you stead me? will you pleasure me? shall I know your answer?

Shy. Three thousand ducats for three inths and Antonio bound. Buss. Your answer to that.

10

Ay. Antonio is a good man. Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary?

Shy. Oh, no, no, no, no: my meaning in ying he is a good man is to have you undertind me that he is sufficient. Yet his means are in supposition: he hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies; I understand,

reover, upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England, and other ventires he hath, squandered abroad. But ships are but boards, sailors but men there be and-rats and water-rats, water-thieves and and-thieves, I mean pirates, and then there is Cue peril of waters, winds and rocks. han is, notwithstanding, sufficient. Three tansand ducats; I think I may take his bond. Buss. Be assured you may.

The

Shy. I will be assured I may; and, that I may be assured, I will bethink me. May I Speak with Antonio ?

Boss. If it please you to dine with us.

Shy. Yes, to smell pork; to eat of the habitation which your prophet the Nazarite conjured the devil into. I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and

Bass. This is Signior Antonio. Shy. [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 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, 50

On me, my bargains and my well-won thrift, Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe, If I forgive him!

Bass.

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. Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, Will furnish me. But soft! how many

months

What of that?

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-color'd lambs, and those were
Jacob's.

This was a way to thrive, and he was blest: 90
And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not.

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

Ant.

100

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

Ant. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding 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, 110
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
'Shylock, we would have moneys:' you say

119

You, that did void your rheum upon my beard
And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur
Over your threshold moneys in your suit.
What should I say to you? Should I not say
'Hath a dog money? is it possible

A cur can lend three thousand ducats?' Or
Shall I bend low and in a bondman's key,
With bated breath and 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'?

130

Ant. I am as like to call thce 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
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.

Shy.

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,

140

Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion, The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun, To whom I am a neighbor 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 The best-regarded virgius of our clime Have loved 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

10

And hedged 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.

21

Mor. 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, 30
To win thee, lady. But, alas the while!
1 Hercules and Lichas play at dice
Which is the better man, the greater throw
May turn by fortune from the weaker hand:
Sis Alcides beaten by his page;

And so may I, blind fortune leading me,
Miss that which one unworthier may attain,
And die with grieving.

Pur.
You must take your chance,
And either not attempt to choose at all
Ur swear before you choose, if you choose
wrong

Never to speak to lady afterward

40

IL way of marriage: therefore be advised. Mor. Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my chance. [dinner Por. First, forward to the temple: after. Your hazard shall be made.

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

SCENE II. Venice. A street.

Enter LAUNCELOT.

Laun. Certainly my conscience will serve The to run from this Jew my master. The hend is at mine elbow and tempts me saying Come Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launelot,' or 'good Gobbo,' or good Launcelot Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away. My conscience says 'No; take heed,' Lonest 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 ficud; 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

kind of taste; well, my conscience says Launcelot, budge not.' Budge,' says the fiend. 'Budge not,' says my conscience. 'Conscience,' say I, you counse! 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 friendly counsel I will run, fiend; my heels are at your command; 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 truebegotten father! who, being more than sandblind, high-gravel blind, knows me not: I will try confusions with him.

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

41

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 Master 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.

Laun. 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