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Senators of Venice, Officers, Jailer, Servants, and other Attendants.
SCENE, partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the Seat of Portia.


A Street in Venice.


Enter Anthonio, Salarino, and Salanio.
Anth. 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.

Sal. Your mind is tossing on the ocean:
There, where your argosies with portly sail,-
Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood,
Or as it were the pageants of the sea,—
Do over-peer the petty traffickers,
That curtsy to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.
Sala. Believe me, sir, had I such ventures 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;
Prying in maps, for ports, and piers and roads:
And ev'ry object that might make me fear
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt,
Would make me sad.


Sal. My wind, cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great might do at sea.
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
5 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,
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church,
And see the holy edifice of stone,

10 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,

15 And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought
To think on this; and shall I lack the thought,
That such a thing, bechanc'd would make me sad?
But, tell not me, I know Anthonio


Is sad to think upon his merchandize.


Anth. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for
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 merchandize makes me not sad.
23 Sala. Why then you are in love?
Anth. Fie, fie!

Ships so named from Ragusa. The name of the ship. hat, to strike sail, to give sign of submission.

3 To vail, means to put off the


Sala. Not in love neither? Then let's 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 arenotsad. Now, by two-headedJanus,
Nature hath fram'd 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 Il not shew their teeth in way of smile, [10]
Though Nesto: swear the jest be laughable.

Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano.
Sat. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble
Gratiano, and Lorenzo: fare you well; [kinsman,|
We leave you now with better company.

Sala. I would have staid till Ihad made youmerry,
If worthier friends had not prevented me.

Anth. Your worth is very dear in my regard.
I take it, your own business calls on you,
And you embrace the occasion to depart.
Sal. Good morrow, my good lords.
Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh?
say, when?

[tools 2.

(That therefore only are reputed wise,
For saying nothing; who, I am very sure, [ears,
they should speak, would almost damn those
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's gudgeon, this opinion.-
Come, good Lorenzo;-Fare ye well, awhile;
I'll end iny exhortation after dinner'.
Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner-
I must be one of these same dumb wise men,
For Gratiano never lets me speak.



Gra. Well, keep me company but two years [tongue. 15 Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own Anth. Fare well; I'll grow a talker for this


grow exceeding strange; Must it be so?
Sal We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. 25
[Exeunt Sal. and Sala.

Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found

We two will leave yoù; but at dinner-time,
I pray you, have in mind where we must meet.
Bass. I will not fail you.

Gra. You look not well, signior Anthonio;
You have too much respect upon the world:
They lose it, that do buy it with much care.
Belie e me, you are marvellously changed.

Anth. Ihold theworld but as the world, Gratiano,
A stage, where every man must play a part,
And mine a sad one.

Gra. 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, Anthonio,-
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 drest 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 Anthonio, I do know of these,


[mendable Gra. Thanks, i'faith; for silence is only comIn a neat's tongue dry'd, and a maid not vendible. [Exeunt Gra. and Lor. Anth. 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.

Anth. Well; tell me now, what lady is the same,
To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,
30 That you to-day promis'd to tell me of?

Buss. 'Tis not unknown to you, Anthonio,
How much I have disabled mine estate,
By something shewing a more swelling port
Than my faint means would grant continuance;
35 Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd

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 gag'd: To you, Anthonio,
40I owe the most, in money, and in love;
And from your love I have a warranty
To unburthen all my plots, and purposes,
How to get clear of all the debts I owe.

Anch. I pray yon, good Bassanio, let me know it;
45 And, if it stand, as you yourself still do,
Within the eye of honour, be assur'd,
My purse, my person, my extremest means,
Lve all unlock'd to your occasions.


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

50I shot his fellow of the self-same flight


The self-same way, with more advised watch,
To find the other forth; and by advent ring both,

I oft found both: I urge this childhood proof,

Because what follows is pure innocence.
owe you much; and, like a wilful youth,

1 This alludes to the common comparison of human life to a stage-play. So that he desires his may be the fool's or buffoon's part, which was a constant character in the old farces; from whence came the phrase, to play the fool. 2 Our author's meaning is, that some people are thought wise whilst they keep silence; who, when they open their mouths, are such stupid praters, that the hearers cannot hep calling them tools, and so incur the judgment denounced in the gospel. The humour of this cousists in its being an allusion to the practice of the puritan preachers of those times; who being generally very long and tedious, were often forced to put off that part of their sermon called the cahortation, till after dinner.



That 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. [time,
Anth. You know me well: and herein spend but
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 my by me be done,
And am I prest' unto it: therefore speak.

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 chuse me a husband: 5-O me, the word chuse! I may neither chuse whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curb'd by the will of a dead father:-Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot chuse one, nor refuse none?


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 chuses his meaning, chuses you) 15wili, no doubt, never be chosen by any rightly, but one who you 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 20nam'st them, I will describe them; and, according to my description, level at my affection.

Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left,
And she is fair, and, fairer than that word,
Of wond'rous virtues: sometimes from ner eyes
I did receive fair speechless messages:
Her name is Portia; nothing undervalu'd
To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia.
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ;
For the four winds blow in trom every coast
Renowned suitors: and her sunny locks
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece;
Which makes her seat of Belmont, Colchos' 25
And many Jasons come in quest of her. [strand,
O my Anthonio, 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.
Anth. Thou know'st, that all my fortunes are
Nor have I money, nor commodity, [at sea;
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 enquire, and so will I,
Where money is; and I no question make,
To have it of my trust, or for my sake. [Exeunt.

A Room in Portia's House in Belmont.

Enter Portia and Nerissa.

Ver. 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 afraid my lady his mother played false with a smith.

Ner. Then, there is the County Palatine. Por. He doth nothing but frown; as, who 30 should say, An if you will not have me, chuse : he hears merry tales and smiles not: I fear he will prove the weeping philosopher when he grows fold, being so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had rather be married to a death's35 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 40 for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mockJer; 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 strait 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 shall never requite him.

Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is a-45 weary 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 50 with nothing: It is no mean happiness therefore, to be seated in the mean; superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer. Por. Gocd sentences, and well pronounc'd. Ner. They would be better, if well follow'd. 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, 60 than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may devise laws for the

That is, ready to do it. youngster.

Ner. What say you then to Faulconbridge, 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 pene 55 ny-worth 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 behaviour every-where.

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

Sometimes here means formerly. i. e, a thoughtless, gidly, gay


Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him; for he borrow'd 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 seal'd under for another.

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


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 10 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 chuse, and chuse the right casket, you should refuse to perform your 15 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 chuse it. 20 I will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I will be marry'd to a spunge.

Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of these lords; they have acquainted me with their determination: which is, indeed, to return to their 25 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 Sybilla, I will die as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the 30 manner of my father's will: I am glad this parcel of wooers are so very 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 fa-35 ther's time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, that came hither in company of the marquis of Montserrat?

Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, so he was call'd.

Ner. True, madam; he, of all the men that ever my foolish eyes look'd upon, was the best deserving a fair lady.

Por. I remember him well; and I remember him worthy of thy praise.-How now! what news? Enter a Servant.

Shy. For three months,—well. Bass. For the which, as I told you, Anthonio shall be bound.

Shy. Anthonio 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 Anthonio bound.

Bass. Your answer to that.

Shy. Anthonio is a good man.

Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary?

Shy. Ho, 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 tothe Indies; I understand moreover upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England, and other ventures he hath, squander'dabroad: But ships are but boards, sailors but men: there be land-rats, and 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.


Bass. Be assur'd, you may. [be assur'd,
Shy. I will be assur'd, I may; and, that I may
will bethink me: May I speak with Anthonio?
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 Anthonio.

Bass. This is signior Anthonio.

Shy. [Aside.] How like a fawning publican he
40I 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',
|45|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!

Ser. The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take their leave: and there is a fore-runner come from the fifth, the prince of Morocco; who brings word, the prince, his master, will be here to-night. 50 Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good heart as I can bid the other four farewell, 1 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 55 me. Come, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before.-Whiles we shut the gate upon one wooer, another knocks at the door. [Exeunt.


A publick Place in Venice. Enter Bassanio and Shylock. Shy. Three thousand ducats,-well. Buss. Ay, sir, for three months.

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: What of that?
Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe,
Will furnish me: But soft; How many months
Do you desire?-Rest you fair, good signior;
[To Anthonie.
60 Your worship was the last man in our mouths.
Anth. Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor bor-
By taking, nor by giving of excess, [row,
Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend,

This is a phrase taken from the practice of wrestlers.

I'll break a custom :--Is he yet possess'd,

How much you would?

Shy. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats.

Anth. And for three months.


You, that did void your rheum upon my beard,
And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur
Over your threshold; monies is your suit.
What should I say to you? Should I not say,

Shy. I had forgot-three months, you told me 5" Hath a dog money? Is it possible

Well then, your bond; and, let me see, -But

hear you;


Methoughts, you said, you neither lend nor bor-
Upon advantage.

Anth. I do never use it.

Shy. When Jacob graz'd his uncle Laban's
This Jacob from our holy Abraham was [sheep,
(As his wise mother wrought in his behalf)
The third possessor: ay, he was the third,

Anth, And what of him? did he take interest?
Shy. No, not take interest; not as you would



"A cur can lend three thousand ducats ?" or
Shall I bend low, and in a bondinan's key,
With 'bated breath, and whispering humbleness,
Say this," Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednes-
"day last;

"You sporn'd me such a day; another time
"You call'd me-dog; and for these courtesies
"I'll lend you thus much monies."

Anth. I am as like to call thee so again,
15 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 of barren metal of his friend ?)
But lend it rather to thine enemy;

Directly interest: mark what Jacob did.
When Laban and himself were compromis'd,
That all the eanlings 2, which were streak'd, and 20


Who if he break, thou may'st 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 stained me with, 25 Supply your present wants, and take no doit Ofusance for my monies, and you'll not hear me; This is kind I offer.

Should fall as Jacob's hire; the ewes, being rank,
In 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 kind2,
He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes ;
Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time
Fall party-colour'd lambs, and those were Jacob's. 30
This was a way to thrive, and he was blest;
And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not

Anth. 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. 35
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.

Anth. 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 falshood hath! [sum. 45
Shy. Three thousand ducats,-'tis a good round
Three months from twelve, then let me see the
Anth. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholden to
Shy. Signior Anthonio, many a time and oft

In the Rialto you have rated me
About my monies 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,
“Shylock, we would have monies;" You say so


Anth. This were kindness.

Shy. 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.

Anth. Content, in faith; I'll seal to such a bond,
And say, there is much kindness in the Jew.
Buss. You shall not seal to such a bond for me,
I'll rather dwell' in my necessity.

Anth. 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 the bond. [are;

Shy. O father Abraham, what these Christians
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
50 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:
55 If he will take it, so; if not, adieu;
And, for my love, I pray you, wrong me not.
Anth. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond.
Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's;
Give him direction for this merry bond,
:160|And I will go and purse the ducats strait;


i. e. lambs just dropt. 3. e. of nature. Meaning, lascivious, obscene. Use and usance were both words formerly employed for usury. A gaberdine means a course frock. That is, interest money bred from the principal. To dwell, here seems to mean the same as to continue.


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