Laun Talk you of young master Launcelot ?Mark me now; [Aside.] 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 he 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, and such odd sayings, the sisters three, and such branches of learning, is indeed deceased.

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

Laun. 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. What a beard hast thou got! thou hast got more hair on thy chin, than Dobbin my thill-horse has on his tail.

Enter BASSANIO, with LEONARDO, and other
Followers.

Bass. You may do so;—but let it be so hasted, that supper be ready at the farthest by five of the clock: See these letters deliver'd; 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; Wouldst 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 I 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 an old man, yet, poor man, my father. What would you?

Bass. One speak for both;
Laun. Serve you, sir.

Gob. This 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 grace, sir, and he hath enough.

Bass. Thou speak'st it well: Go, father, with thy son:

Take leave of thy old master, and enquire
My lodging out:- Give him a livery

6

[To his Followers. More guarded than his fellows': See it done. Laun. Father, in:-I cannot get a service, no;

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 famish'd 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 Bassa5 Shaft-horse.

come; I'll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye. [Exeunt LAUNCELOT and old GORBO.

Bass. 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.
Enter GRATIANO.

Gra. Where is your master?
Leon.

Gra. Signior Bassanio,

Yonder. sir, he walks.

[Exit LEONARDO.

6 Ornamented.

Laun. And they have conspired together, I will not say, you shall see a masque; but if you do, then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a bleeding on Black-Monday last, at six o'clock i'the morning.

Shy. What are there masques? Hear you me,
Jessica :

Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum,
And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fife,
Clamber not you up to the casements then,
Nor thrust your head into the public street,
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces :
But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements;
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter
My sober house. By Jacob's staff, I swear
I have no mind of feasting forth to-night:
But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah;
Say, I will come.

-

SCENE VI. The same.

Enter GRATIANO and SALARINO, masked. Gra. This is the pent-house, under which Lorenzo Desir'd us to make stand.

Salar. His hour is almost past. Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, For lovers ever run before the clock.

Salar. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly To seal love's bonds new made, than they are wont, To keep obliged faith unforfeited!

Gra. That ever holds: Who riseth from a feast, With that keen appetite that he sits down? Where is the horse that doth untread again His tedious measures with the unbated fire That he did pace them first? All things that are, Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. How like a younker, or a prodigal, The scarfed bark puts from her native bay. How like the prodigal doth she return; With over-weather'd ribs, and ragged sails.

Enter JESSICA, above, in Boy's clothes. Jes. Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty, Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue. Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love.

Jes. Lorenzo, certain; and my love, indeed; For who love I so much? And now who knows, But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours?

Lor. Heaven, and thy thoughts, are witness that thou art.

Jes. Here, catch this casket, it is worth the pains. I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me, For I am much asham'd of my exchange : But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit: For if they could, Cupid himself would blush To see me thus transformed to a boy.

Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. Jes. What, must I hold a candle to my shames? They in themselves, good sooth, are too too light. Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love; And I should be obscur'd.

Even in the lovely garnish of a boy.

But come at once;

For the close night doth play the run-away,
And we are staid for at Bassanio's feast.
Jes. I will make fast the doors, and join you
straight.
[Exit, from above.
Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew
Lor. Beshrew me, but I love her heartily:
For she is wise, if I can judge of her;
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true;
And true she is, as she hath prov'd herself;
And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true,
Shall she be placed in my constant soul.
Enter JESSICA, below.
What, art thou come?— On, gentlemen, away;
Our masquing mates by this time for us stay.
[Exit with JESSICA and SALARINO.

SCENE VII. - Belmont. A Room in Portia's House.

Flourish of Cornets. Enter PORTIA, with the Prince of Morocco, and both their Trains.

Por. Go, draw aside the curtains, and discover The several caskets to this noble princeNow make your choice.

Mor. The first, of gold, who this inscription

SCENE VII.

Mor. Some god direct my judgment! Let me see, I will survey the inscriptions back again : What says this leaden casket?

Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath,
Must give For what? for lead? hazard for lead?
This casket threatens; Men, that hazard all,
Do it in hope of fair advantages:

A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross;
I'll then nor give, nor hazard, aught for lead.
What says the silver, with her virgin hue?
Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves.
Pause there, Morocco.
As much as he deserves?—
And weigh thy value with an even hand:
If thou be'st rated by thy estimation,
Thou dost deserve enough; and yet enough
May not extend so far as to the lady;
And yet to be afeard of my deserving,
Were but a weak disabling of myself.
Why, that's the lady :
As much as I deserve!
I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes,
In graces, and in qualities of breeding;
But more than these, in love I do deserve.
What if I stray'd no further, but chose here?
Let's see once more this saying grav'd in gold :
Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire.
Why, that's the lady; all the world desires her:
From the four corners of the earth they come,
To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint.
The Hyrcanian deserts, and the vasty wilds
Of wide Arabia, are as through-fares now,
For princes to come view fair Portia :
The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head
Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar
To stop the foreign spirits; but they come,
As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia.

One of these three contains her heavenly picture.
Is't like, that lead contains her? 'Twere a sin
To think so base a thought; it were too gross
To rib her cerccloth in the obscure grave.
Or shall I think, in silver she's immur'd,
Being ten times undervalued to try'd gold?
O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem

upon;

may!

cold.

2 Enclosc.

179

Draw the curtains

[Exeunt.

She hath the stone upon her, and the ducats
Salar. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him,
Crying, his stone, his daughter, and his ducats.
Salan. Let good Antonio look he keep his day,
Or he shall pay for this.

Marry, well remember'd:
Salar.
I reason'd 4 with a Frenchman yesterday;
Who told me, in the narrow seas, that part
The French and English, there miscarried
A vessel of our country, richly fraught:
I thought upon Antonio, when he told me;
And wish'd in silence, that it were not his.
Salan. You were best to tell Antonio what you
hear;

Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him.

5

Salar. A kinder gentleman treads not the earth. I saw Bassanio and Antonio part: Bassanio told him, he would make some speed Of his return; he answer'd- Do not so. Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio, But stay the very riping of the time; And for the Jew's bond, which he hath of me, Let it not enter in your mind of love: Be merry; and employ your chiefest thoughts To courtship, and such fair ostents of love As shall conveniently become you there: And even there, his eye being big with tears, Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, And with affection wondrous sensible

He wrung Bassanio's hand, and so they parted. Salan. I think he only loves the world for him.

I pray thee, let us go, and find him out,

And quicken his embraced heaviness 7

With some delight or other.

4 Conversed.

3 Engraven.

6 Shows, tokens.

5 To slubber is to do a thing carelessly

7 The heaviness he is fond of N 2

The prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath, And comes to his election presently.

Flourish of Cornets.

Enter the Prince of Arragon, PORTIA, and their Trains.

Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince: If you choose that wherein I am contain❜d, Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemniz'd; But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, You must be gone from hence immediately.

Ar. I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things: First, never to unfold to any one

Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I fail

Of the right casket, never in my life

To woo a maid in way of marriage; lastly,
If I do fail in fortune of my choice,
Immediately to leave you and be gone.

Por. To these injunctions every one doth swear, That comes to hazard for my worthless self.

Ar. And so have I address'ds me: Fortune now To my heart's hope! - Gold, silver, and base lead. Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath: You shall look fairer, ere I give, or hazard.

What says the golden chest? ha! let me see: -
Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire.
What many men desire. — That many may be meant
By the fool multitude, that choose by show,
Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach:
Which pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet,
Builds in the weather on the outward wall,
Even in the force and road of casualty.
I will not choose what many men desire,
Because I will not jump 9 with common spirits,
And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.
Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure house;
Tell me once more what title thou dost bear :
Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves;
And well said too; For who shall go about
To cozen fortune, and be honourable
Without the stamp of merit? Let none presume
To wear an undeserved dignity.

O, that estates, degrees, and offices,

Were not deriv'd corruptly! and that clear honour
Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer!
How many then should cover that stand bare?
How many be commanded, that command?
How much low peasantry would then be glean'd
From the true seed of honour? and how much honour
Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times,
To be new varnish'd? Well, but to my choice:
Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves :
I will assume desert; Give me a key for this.
And instantly unlock my fortunes here.

Ar. What's here? the portrait of a blinking idiot,
Presenting me a schedule! I will read it.
How much unlike art thou to Portia !
How much unlike my hopes, and my deservings!
Who chooseth me shall have as much as he deserves.
Did I deserve no more than a fool's head?
Is that my prize? are my deserts no better?
Por. To offend, and judge, are distinct offices,
And of opposed natures.
Ar.
What is here?

The fire seven times tried this:
Seven times tried that judgment is,
That did never choose amiss:
Some there be, that shadows kiss:
Such have but a shadow's bliss:
There be fools alive, I wis',
Silver'd o'er; and so was this.
Take what wife you will to bed,
I will ever be your head:
So begone, sir, you are sped.

Still more fool I shall appear,

By the time I linger here:

With one fool's head I came to woo,
But I

go away with two.

Sweet, adieu! I'll keep my oath,
Patiently to bear my wroth.

[Exeunt Arragon, and Train.
Por. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth.
O these deliberate fools! when they do choose,
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose.
Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy ;
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
Por. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa.
Enter a Servant.

Serv. Where is my lady?

Por.

-

Here; what would my lord?
Serv. Madam, there is alighted at your gate
A young Venetian, one that comes before
To signify the approaching of his lord :
From whom he bringeth sensible regrets? ;
To wit, besides commends, and courteous breath,
Gifts of rich value; yet I have not seen
So likely an embassador of love:

A day in April never came so sweet.
To show how costly summer was at hand,
As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord.

there.

-

[Excunt.