SCENE-Partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the seat of Portia, on the Continent. ACT I. SCENE I. Venice. A strect. Enter ANTONIO, Salarino, and Salanio. And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean; 20 30 Salar 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, Veiling her high-top lower than her ribs To kiss her ourial. Should I go to church And see the holy edifice of stone, And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks, Which touching but my gentie 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 But tell not me; I know, Antonio [sad? . Is sad to think upon his merchandise. 40 Ant. Believeme, 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. Salar. Why, then you are in love. Ant. Fie, fie! Salar. Not in love neither? Then let us say you are sad, Because 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, 50 Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time: That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, Gratiano and Lorenzo. Fare well: you merry, 60 If worthier friends had not prevented me. You grow exceeding strange: must it be so? Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. [Exeunt Salarino and Salanis. Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio, We two will leave you: but at dinner-time, 70 I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. Bass. I will not fail you. Gra. You look not well, Signior Antonio; You have too much respect upon the world: A stage where every man must play a part, 81 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 I shot his fellow of the self-same flight I owe you much, and, like a wilful youth, Gra. ears 90 Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. 100 I'll tell thee more of this another time: [moe, Gra. Well, keep me company but two years Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. Ant. Farewell; I'll grow a talker for this gear. Gra. Thanks, i' faith, for silence is only commendable In a neat's tongue dried and a maid not vendible. [Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo. Ant. Is that any thing now? Bass. 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 same To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, That you to-day promised to tell me of? 120 Bass. '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 From 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. 150 To wind about my love with circumstance; 180 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 happi130 ness therefore, to be seated in the mean: superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer. 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 affec tion. 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 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 married to a death'shead 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, I should marry twenty husbands. If he would despise me, I would forgive him, for if he love me to madness, I shali 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 adumb-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 everywhere. Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbor? Por. That he hath a neighborly charity in him, for he hath 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 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. Por. 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. Ner. 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 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 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. Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a Venetian, a scholar and a soldier, that came hither in company of the Marquis of Montferrat? Shy. Antonio is a good man, Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary? 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 landrats and water-rats, water-thieves and landthieves, 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. Bass. 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? Bass. 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 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? Enter ANTONIO. Bass. This is Signior Antonio. 40 Shy. When Jacob grazed his uncle Laban s sheep This Jacob from our holy Abram was, Ant. And what of him? did he take interest? Shy. No, not take interest, not, as you would say, Directly interest: mark what Jacob did. Ant. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob Mark you this, Bassanio, Shy. [Aside] How like a fawning publican The Devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. 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 Bass. Shylock, do you hear? 100 An evil soul producing holy witness Three months from twelve: then, let me see; the rate Ant. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you? 110 Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft 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, Will furnish me. But soft! how many months Do you desire? [To Ant.] Rest you fair, good signior; Your worship was the last man in our mouths. ACT II. And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur Or A cur can lend three thousand ducats?' 'Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last; 130 Ant. I am as like to call thee so again, A breed for barren metal of his friend? Who, if he break, thou mayst with better face 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, Supply your present wants and take no doit 141 Ofusance for my moneys, and you'll not hear me: This is kind I offer. Bass. This were kindness. This kindness will I show. say 150 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 returu Of thrice three times the value of this bond. 160 Shy. O father Abram, what these Christians are, Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect 170 Ant. Hie thee, gentle Jew. [Exit Shylock. The Hebrew will turn Christian: he grows kind. Bass. I like not fair terms and a villain's mind. Ant. Come on: in this there can be no dismay; My ships come home a month before the day. [Exeunt. 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. 12 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 virgins 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 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 20 As any comer I have look'd on yet For my affection. Mor. you: Even for that I thank 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! 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. Por. 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 41 In way of marriage: therefore be advised. Mor. Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my chance. Por. First, forward to the temple: after dinner Your hazard shall be made. |