ACT I. Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad; And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean; That curt'sy to them, do them reverence, Salar. Would blow me to an ague, when I thought But I should think of shallows and of flats; And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks? Is sad to think upon his merchandize. Ant. 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 merchandize makes me not sad. Salan. Why then you are in love. And other of such vinegar aspect, Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO. Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman Gratiano, and Lorenzo: Fare you well; Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. You grow exceeding strange: Must it be so? Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. [Exeunt SALARINO and SALANIO Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found We two will leave you: but, at dinner-time, Gra. You look not well, signior Antonio; Ant. I hold the world 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; Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice If they should speak, would almost dam those ears, Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner-time: Gra. Well, keep me company but two years more, Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. Aut. Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear. [Exeunt GRATIANO and LORENZo. 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; 3 Obstinate silence you shall seek all day ere you find them: and, wher Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft I owe you much; and, like a wilful youth, Ant. You know me well; and herein spend but To wind about my love with circumstance; Than if you had made waste of all I have: Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left, Where money is; and I no question make, Enter PORTIA and NERISSA. Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is a-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 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. 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. 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 curb'd by the will of a dead father: Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose 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 chooses his meaning, chooses you,) will, 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 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. Ner. Then, is there the county 6 Palatine. Por. He doth nothing but frown; as who should say, An 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's head with a bone in his mouth, than to either of these. Heaven defend me from these two! Ner. How say you by the French lord, monsieur Le Bon? Por. Heaven 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 shall never requite him. Ner. What say you then to Faulconbridge, the young baron of England? 6 Count. 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? 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. How Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour? Por. 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 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 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 will be married to a spunge. 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 wish 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? Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, so was he called. Ner. True, madam; he of all the men that ever my foolish eyes looked 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. Serv. The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take their leave: and there is a fore-runner come from a fifth, the prince of Morocco; who brings word, the prince, his master, will be here to-night. Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so should be glad of his approach: if he have the congood heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I dition 7 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 gate upon one wooer, another knocks at the door. [Exeunt. 7 Temper, qualities. 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 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 to the Indies; I understand moreover upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England, and other ventures he hath, squander'd abroad: But ships are but boards, sailors but men: there be land-rats, 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: 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. Three months from twelve, then let me see the rate. A cur can lend three thousand ducats? or You spurn'd me such a day; another time Ant. I am as like to call thee so again, As to thy friends; (for when did friendship take Shy. [Aside.] How like a fawning publican he But lend it rather to thine enemy; looks! I hate him for he is a Christian : But more, for that, in low simplicity, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear 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: What of that? Yet to supply the ripe wants of my friend, 8 Wants which admit no longer delay. 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 stain'd me with, Supply your present wants, and take no doit Of usance for my monies, and you'll not hear me This is kind I offer. Ant. 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. Ant. Content, in 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 1 This bond expires, I do expect return A pound of man's flesh, taken from a man, 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. Ant. Hie thee, gentle Jew. This 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. [Exit. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I. Belmont. A Room in Portia's Flourish of Cornets. Enter the Prince of Morocco and his Train; PORTIA, NERISSA, and other of her Attendants. 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 incision 2 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 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. 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 out-stare the sternest eyes that look, Out-brave 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 froin 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, 2 Allusion to the Eastern custom for lovers to testify their passion by cutting themselves in their mistresses' sight. 3 Terrified. [Exeunt. the 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 fiend; away! says the fiend; 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, 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, I should stay with the Jew my master, who 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 incarnation; 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 conclusions with him. Gob. Master, young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew's? 4 Experiments. |