Gra. Yes, 'faith, my lord. Bass. Our feast shall be much honour'd in your marriage. Gra. But who comes here? Lorenzo, and his infidel? What, and my old Venetian friend, Salanio? Enter LORENZO, JESSICA, and SALANIO. Bass. Lorenzo, and Salanio, welcome hither! Sweet Portia, welcome. Por. So do I, my lord; They are entirely welcome. Lor. I thank your honour: For my part, my lord, My purpose was not to have seen you here; But meeting with Salanio by the way, He did entreat me, past all saying nay, To come with him along. Salan. And I have reason for it. Bass. I did, my lord, [Gives Bassanio a letter. Ere I ope his letter, I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth. Salan. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind; Nor well, unless in mind: his letter there Will show you his estate. Gra. Nerissa, cheer yon stranger; bid her welcome. Your hand, Salanio; What's the news from Venice? How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio? I know, he will be glad of our success; We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece. Salan. 'Would you had won the fleece that he hath lost! Por. There are some shrewd contents in yon' same paper, That steal the colour from Bassanio's cheek: Some dear friend dead: else nothing in the world Could turn so much the constitution Of any constant man. What, worse and worse?— And I must freely have the half of any thing Bass. How much I was a braggart. When I told you Have all his ventures fail'd? What, not one hit? From Lisbon, Barbary, and India ? And not one vessel 'scape the dreadful touch Salan. Not one, my lord. Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him; But none can drive him from the envious plea Jes. When I was with him, I have heard him swear, To Tubal, and to Chus, his countrymen, That he would rather have Antonio's flesh, It will go hard with poor Antonio. Por. Is it your dear friend, that is thus in trouble? Bass. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, The best condition'd and unwearied spirit In doing courtesies; and one in whom The ancient Roman honour more appears, Than any that draws breath in Italy. Por. What sum owes he the Jew? Bass. For me, three thousand ducats. What, no more? Por. Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault. Bass. [Reads] Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all miscarried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low, my bond to the Few is forfeit; and since, in paying it, it is impossible I should live, all debts are cleared be D tween you and I, if I might but see you at my death: notwithstanding, use your pleasure: if your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter. Por. O love! despatch all business, and be gone. Bass. Since I have your good leave to go away, I will make haste: but, till I come again, No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay, Nor rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Venice. A Street. Enter SHYLOCK, SALANIO, ANTONIO, and Gaoler. Ant. Shylock. AOLER, look to him;-Tell not me of mercy:- Hear me yet, good Shylock. But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs. The duke shall grant me justice.—I do wonder, Ant. I pray thee, hear me speak. Shy. I'll have my bond; I will not hear thee speak; I'll have my bond; and therefore speak no more. I'll not be made a soft and dull-ey'd fool, To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield [Exit Shylock. Salan. It is the most impenetrable cur, That ever kept with men. Ant. Let him alone; I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers, He seeks my life; his reason well I know; Many that have at times made moan to me; Salan. I am sure, the duke Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. Ant. The duke cannot deny the course of law; For the commodity that strangers have With us in Venice, if it be denied, Will much impeach the justice of the state;' Well, gaoler, on.-Pray God, Bassanio come SCENE V. Belmont. A Room in Portia's House. PORTIA, NERISSA, LORENZO, JESSICA, Lorenzo. ADAM, although I speak it in your presence, Of god-like amity: which appears most strongly In bearing thus the absence of your lord. But, if you knew to whom you show this honour, How dear a lover of my lord your husband, * Shylock was one of the strangers in Venice. |