Which makes me think that this Anthonio,
Being the Bofom-lover of my Lord,
Muft needs be like my Lord. If it be fo,
How little is the Coft I have beftowed
In purchafing the Semblance of my Soul
From out the ftate of hellifh Cruelty.
This comes too near the praifing of my
felf;
Therefore no more of it: Here are other things.
Lorenzo, I commit into your Hands,

The Husbandry and Manage of my House,
Until my Lord's return. For mine own part,
I have toward Heav'n breath'd a fecret Vow,
To live in Prayer and Contemplation,
Only attended by Neriffa here,

Until her Husband and my Lord's return.
There is a Monaftery two Miles off,
And there we will abide. I do defire
Not to deny this Impofition,

you

The which my Love and fome Neceffity

Now lays upon you.

Lor. Madam, with all my Heart,

I fhall obey you in all fair Commands.
Por. My People do already know my mind,
And will acknowledge you and Jeffica
In place of Lord Bassanio and my felf.
So fare you well 'till we fhall meet again.

Lor. Fair Thoughts and happy Hours attend on you.
Jef. I wish your Ladyship all Heart's Content.

Por. I thank you for your Wifh, and am well pleas'd
To with it back on you: Fare you well, Jeffica. [Ex. Jef& Lor
Now, Balthazar, as I have ever found thee honest, true,
So let me find thee ftill: Take this fame Letter,
And ufe thou all the Endeavour of a Man,
In fpeed to Mantua; fee thou render this
Into my Coufin's Hand, Doctor Bellario,

And look what Notes and Garments he doth give thee,
Bring them, I pray thee, with imagin'd speed
Unto the Traject, to the common Ferry

Which trades to Venice: Wafte no time in Words,

But get thee gone; I shall be there before thee.

Bal. Madam, I go with all convenient speed.

[Exit.

Por.

Por. Come on, Neriffa, I have Work in hand That you yet know not of: We'll see our Husbands Before they think of us?

Ner. Shall they fee us?

Por. They fhall, Neriffa; but in fuch a Habit,
That they fhall think we are accomplished
With that we lack. I'll hold thee any Wager,
When we are both Accoutred like Young Men,
I'll prove the prettier Fellow of the two,

And wear my Dagger with the braver Grace,
And speak between the Change of Man and Boy,
With a reed Voice; and turn two mincing Steps
Into a maply Stride, and speak of Frays,
Like a fine bragging Youth; and tell quaint Lies,
How honourable Ladies fought my Love,
Which I denying, they fell fick and died.
I could not do withal: Then I'll repent,
And wish for all that, that I had not kill'd them.
And twenty of these puny Lies I'll tell,

Then Men fhall fwear I have difcontinued School
Above a Twelve-month. I have within my Mind
A thousand raw Tricks of these bragging Jacks,
Which I will practife.

Ner. Why, fhall we turn to Men ?
Por. Fié, what a queftion's that,
If thou wert near a lewd Interpreter ?

But come, I'll tell thee all my whole Device

[Exeunt.

When I am in my Coach, which ftays for us At the Park Gate; and therefore hafte away, For we must measure Twenty Miles to day. Enter Launcelot and Jeffica. Laun. Yes, truly: For look you, the Sins of the Father are to be laid upon the Children; therefore, I promise you, I fear you. I was always plain with you; and fo now I fpeak my Agitation of the Matter: Therefore be of good cheer; for truly I think you are Damn'd: There is but one hope in it that can do you any good, and that is but a kind of Baftard-hope neither.

Jef. And what hope is that, I pray thee? Laun. Marry you may partly hope that you not, that you are not the Jew's Daughter.

your Father

got

Jef. That were a kind of Baftard-hope indeed; fo the Sins of my Mother should be vifited upon me.

Laun. Truly then I fear you are Damn'd both by Father and Mother: Thus when you fhun Sylla, your Father, you fall into Charibdis, your Mother: Well, you are gone both ways. Jef. I fhall be faved by my Husband; he hath made me a Chriftian.

Laun. Truly the more to blame he; we were Christians enough before, e'en as many as could well live one by another: This making of Chriftians will raife the Price of Hogs; if we grow all to be Pork-eaters, we shall not fhortly have a Rafher on the Coals for Mony.

Enter Lorenzo.

Jef. I'll tell my Husband, Launcelot, what you fay: Here he comes.

Lor. I fhall grow Jealous of you fhortly, Launcelot, if thus you get my Wife into Corners.

Jef. Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo; Launcelot and I are out; he tells me flatly, there is no Mercy for me in Heav'n, because I am a Jew's Daughter: And he says, you are no good Member of the Commonwealth; for in converting Jews to Chriftians, you raife the Price of Pork.

Lor. I fhall anfwer that better to the Commonwealth than you can the getting up of the Negro's Belly: The Moor is with Child by you, Launcelot.

Laun. It is much that the Moor fhould be more than Reafon: But if he be less than an honest Woman, fhe is indeed more than I took her for.

Lor. How every Fool can play upon the Word! I think the best Grace of Wit will shortly turn into Silence, and Dif course grow commendable in none only but Parrats. Go in, Sirrah, bid them prepare for Dinner.

Laun. That is done, Sir; they have all Stomachs.

Lor. Goodly Lord, what a Wit-fnapper are you! Then bid them prepare Dinner.

Laun. That is done too, Sir; only Cover is the word.
Lor. Will you cover then, Sir?

Laun. Not fo, Sir, neither; I know my Duty.

Lor. Yet more quarrelling with occafion! wilt thou shew the whole Wealth of thy Wit in an inftant? I pray thee understand a plain Man in his plain Meaning: Go to thy Fellows bid them cover the Table, ferve in the Meat, and we will come in to Dinner.

Laun

Laun. For the Table, Sir, it fhall be ferved in; for the
Meat, Sir, it fhall be covered; for your coming in to Din-
ner, Sir, why let it be as Homours and Conceits fhall govern.
[Exit Laun.
Lor. O dear Difcretion, how his Words are fuited!
The Fool hath planted in his Memory
An Army of good Words; and I do know
A many Fools that stand in better place,
Garnish'd like him, that for a trickfie Word
Defie the Matter: How cheer'ft thou, Feljica?
And now, good Sweet, fay thy Opinion,
How doft thou like the Lord Baffanio's Wife?
Jef. Paft all expreffing: It is very meet
The Lord Baffanio live an upright Life.
For having fuch a Bleffing in his Lady,
He finds the Joys of Heav'n here on Earth:
And if on Earth he do not mean it, it

Is reafon he fhould never come to Heav'n.
Why, if two gods should play fome heav'nly Match,
And on the Wager lay two earthly Women,
And Portia one, there must be fomething else
Pawn'd with the other; for the poor rude World

Hath not her Fellow.

Lor. Even fuch a Husband

Haft thou of me, as the is for a Wife.

Jef. Nay, but ask my Opinion too of that.
Lor. I will anon: First let us go to Dinner.
Jef. Nay, let me praise you while I have a Stomach.
Lor. No, pray thee, let it ferve for Table-talk;
Then how fome'er thou speak'ft, 'mongst other things,
I fhall digeft it.

Jef. Well, I'll fet

A C T IV. SCENE I. Venice.

Enter the Duke, the Senators, Anthonio, Baffanio, and Gratiano.

Duke. WHAT, is Anthonio here?

Ant. Ready, fo please your Grace.

Duke. I am forry for thee; thou art come to answer

A

A ftony Adverfary, an inhuman Wretch,
Uncapable of Pity, void and empty

From any dram of Mercy.

Ant. I have heard

Your Grace hath ta'en great pains to qualifie

His rigorous Course; but fince he ftands obdurate,
And that no lawful Means can carry me
Out of his Envy's reach, I do oppofe
My Patience to his Fury, and am arm'd
To fuffer with a quietnefs of Spirit
The very Tyranny and Rage of his.

Duke. Go one and call the Jew into the Court.
Sal. He is ready at the Door: He comes, my Lord.
Enter Shylock.

Duke. Make room, and let him ftand before our Face.
Shylock, the World thinks, and I think fo too,
That thou but lead'ft this Fashion of thy Malice
To the last Hour of act, and then 'tis thought
Thou'lt fhew thy Mercy and Remorfe more ftrange
Than is thy ftrange apparent Cruelty,

Which is a Pound of this poor Merchant's Flesh.
Thou wilt not only lose the Forfeiture,
But touch'd with human Gentlenefs and Love,
Forgive a moiety of the Principal,
Glancing an Eye of Pity on his Loffes
That have of late fo hudled on his back,
Enough to prefs a Royal Merchant down,
And pluck Commiferation of his State
From braffy Bofoms, and rough Hearts of Flint,
From ftubborn Turks and Tartars, never train'd
To Offices of tender Courtefie.

We all expect a gentle Anfwer, Jew.

Shy. I have poffefs'd your Grace of what I purpose,
And by our holy Sabbath have I fworn

To have the Due and Forfeit of my Bond.
If you deny it, let the Danger light

Upon your Charter, and your City's Freedom.
You'll ask me why I rather chufe to have
A weight of Carrion Flesh, than to receive
Three thoufand Ducats? I'll not anfwer that.
But fay it is my Humour, is it answered?

What