You have too much respect upon the world: Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratlano; Gra. Let me play the fool: With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; 0 my Antonio, I do know of these. If they should speak, would almost damn those Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. 1 must be one of these same dumb wise men. Gra. Well, keep me company but two years more, In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. \Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo. Ant. 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. Ant. Well; tell me now, what lady is the same Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, Then do but say to me what I should do. Bass. In Belmont is a lady richlyleft. 0 my Antonio 1 had I but the means 1 have a mind presages me such thrift. Ant. Thou knowest that all my fortunes are at sea; And if it stand, as you yourself still do. Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, A Jit. You know me well; and herein spend but time, SCENE II.—Belmont. A Room in Portia's Enter Portia and Nerissa. 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. Ncr. 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 nis own instructions: I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may devise laws for the blood; but a hot temperleaps 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 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 curbed 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 i,rold, silver, and lead (whereof who chooses his meaning, chooses you), will, no doubt, never be chosen by any rightly, but one whom 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 liimsclf, lam much afraid, my lady his mother played false with a smith. Ner. Then is there the county Palatine. Por. He doth nothing but frown: as who should ay, "An you will not have me, choose." He hears uerry tales, and smiles not: I fear he will j rove the vceping philosopher when he grows old, being so full if unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had rather >e married to a death's head with a bone in his mouth, than to either of these :—God defend me from theso two! Ner. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon? Por. God 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 hahit of frowning than the count Palatine: he is every man in no man; if a throstle sing, he falls straight x capering: he will fence with his own shadow. If I should marry him, 1 should marry twenty husbands. If he would despise me, 1 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 r Por. You know I say nothing to him; for he understands not ine, nor I him: he hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian; and you will come into the court and swear that I have a poor penny-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 I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour everywhere. 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 m 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, 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 ither's will, ifyou should refuse to accept him. Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee. -ather's 1 Por. 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, Nertssa, ere I will be married to a sponge. 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 impost' tion. 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 woocr>: are so reasonable; for there is not one among them but I dote on his very absence ; and I pray God gran them a fair departure. Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your father': time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, that came hither in the company of the Marquis of Montferrat ~ Par. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio: as I think, so w he called. Ner. True, madam: he, of all the men that ev. my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady. Por. I remember him well; and I remember h worthy of thy praise.—{Enter a Servant.] How noi what news? Sew. The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take their leave : and there is a forerunner come from a fifth, the prince of Morocco; who brings word, tin prince his master, will be here to-night. Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so goo heart, as I can bid the other four farewell, I should b glad of his approach: if he have the condition of saint, and the complexion of a devil, I had rather h should shrive me than wive me. Come, NcrissaSirrah, go before.—Whiles we shut the gate upon on. wooer, another knocks at the door. [Exeunt. SCENE III.—Venice. A public Place. Enter Bassanio and Shylock. Sky. Three thousand ducats.—well. Bass. Ay, sir, for three months. Shy. For three months,—well. Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shali be bound. Shy. Antonio shall become bound,—well. Bass. May you stead met Will you pleasure met Shall I know^our answer? Shy. Three thousand ducats for three months, and Bass. Your answer to that. [Antonio bound. Shy. Antonio is a good man, [trary? Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the con Shy. Oh 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, lie hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England,—and other ventures he hath squandered abroad. But ships are but boards, sailors but men: there be landrats and water-rats, land-thieves and water-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 Bass. Be assured you may. [take his bond. 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; 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 Antonio. Bass. This is signior Antonio. Shy. [Aside.] How like a fawning publican he I hate him for he is a Christian; [looks 1 But more, for that, in low simplicity, Bass. Shylock, do you hear? Shy. I am debating of my present store j And, by the near guess of my memory, I cannot instantly raise up the gross Of full three thousand ducats. What of thatt Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, Will furnish me. But soft! how many months Do you desire?—[To Antonio.] Rest you fair, good signior; Your worship was the last man in our mouths. Ant. Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor borrow, By taking, nor by giving of excess, Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, I'll break a custom.—[To Bassanio.] Is he yet pos« How much you would? [sess'd. Shy. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. Ant. And for three months. Shv. I had forgot,—three months: you told me so. Well then, your bond; and let me see,—But hear you; Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow A nt. I do never use it. Shy. When Jacob graz'd his uncle Laban's sheep, This Jacob from our holy Abraham was (As his wise mother wrought in his behalf,) The third possessor; ay. he was the third :— Ant. And what of him? did he take interest? Shy. No, not take interest; not, as you would say. Directly, interest:—mark what Jacob did. When Laban and himself were compromis'd That all the eanlings which were streak'd and pied Should fall as Jacob's hire, the ewes, being rank, in 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 kind, 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. This was the way to thrive, and he was blest: And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not A nt. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob serv'd forj LA thing not in his power to bring to pass, But sway'd and fashlon'd by the hand of heaven. Was this inserted to make interest good 1 Shy. 1 cannot tell; I make it breed as fast:— Ant. Mark you this, Bassanio, The devil can cite scripture for his purpose. Shy. Three thousand ducats.—'tis a good round Three months from twelve, then let me see the rate. Ant. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholden to youf Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft, *' Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last j Ant. I am as like to call thee so again, Sky. Why, look you, how you storm 1 I would be friends with you, and have your love, Ant. This were kindness. Shy. This kindness will I show.— Go with me to a notary, seal me there Ant. Content, in faith: I'll seal to such a bond, Bass. You shall not seal to such a bond for me: Ant. Why, fear not, man; 1 will not forfeit it: Shy. O father Abraham ! what these Christians are, 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; Sec to my house, left in the fearful guard Of an unthrifty knave ; and presently I will be with you. [Exit. Ant. Hie thee, gentle Jew. Th s 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. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I,—Belmont. A Room in Portia's Hottst, Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Morocco, and his train; Portia, Nerissa, and other Attendants. Mor. Mislike me not for Kiv complexion, Pur. In terms of choice" I am not solely led Mor. Even for that I thank you: Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets, Por. You must take your chance; And either not attempt to choose at all. Mor. Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my chance. Por. First, forward to the temple; after dinner Your hazard shall be made. Mor. Good fortune then! To make me blest, or cursed'st among men 1 [Cornets, and exeunt. SCENE II.—Venice. A Street. Enter Launcelot Gobbo. LattH. Certainly, my conscience will serve me to run from this Jew, my master. The fiend is at mine elhow, 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 unniiuj with thy heels." Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack: " Via /" says the fiend ; "away!" lys the fiend; "for the heavens, rouse up a brave mind." says the fiend, " and run." Well, my conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, says ery wisely to me, " My honest friend Launcelot, being an honest man's son,'—or rather an honest woman s son ;—for, indeed, my father did something smack, something grow to, he had a kind of taste well, my conscience says, "Launcelot, budge not." "Budge," says the fiend. "Budge not," says my rare new liveries: If I serve not him, I will run as far conscience. Conscience, say I, you counsel well; fiend, say I, you counsel well: to be ruled by my con science, I should stay witli the Jew my master, who (God bless the mark !) 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 mc 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 lew'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, 1 pray you, which is the way to master Jew s? Laun. Turn up on your right hand at the next turning, but, at the next turning of all, on your left; as God has any ground.—O rare fortune I here comes the man:—to him, father; for I am a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer. Enter Bassanio, with Leonardo, and other followers. Bass. You may do so:—but let it be so hasted, that supper be ready at the very farthest by five of the clock. See these letters delivered; 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 I Bass. Gramercy I wouldst thou aught with me I 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 iny father shall specify,—■ Gob. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to serve,— Laun. Indeed, short and the long is, I serve the Jew, and have a desire,—as my father shall specify,— Gob. His master and he (saving your worship's marry, at the vtry next turning, turn of no hand, but! reverence,) are scarce cater-cousins,turn down indirectly to the Jew's house. I laun. To be brief, the very truth is, that the Tew Gob. By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit. having done me wrong, doth cause me,—as my father, Can you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells being, I hope, an old man, shall frutify unto you,— with him, dwell with him or no? Gob. I have here a dish of doves, that I would Laun. Talk you of young master Launcelot?— bestow upon your worship ; and iny suit is,— Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man's son: his 'nan: and, though I say it, though old man, yet poor 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 a' will, we talk of young master Launcelot. Gob. Your worship's friend, and Launcelot, sir. Latin. 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 mastei Launcelot, father; for the young gentleman (accord ing to fates and destinies, and such odd sayings, the sisters three, and such branches of _ learning,) is, indeed, deceased; or, as you would say in plain terms, gone to heaven. Gob. Marry, God forbid I the boy was the very staff; of my age, my very prop. Latin. [Aside.] Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or a prop? Do you know me, father J Gob. Alack the day 1 I know you not, young gentleman: but I pray you, tell me, is my boy (Goa rest his soul!) 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,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 nie 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. 1 know not what I shall think of that: but I am Launcelot, the Jew's man; and I am suie Margery, your wife, is my mother. Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed: 1*11 be sworn, if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood. Lord, worshipped might he be I what a be.Trcl hast thou got! thou has got more hair on thy chin, than Dobbin my thill-horse has on his tail. Laun. It should seem, then, that Dobbin's tail grows backward: I am sure he had more hair on his tail, than I have on my face, when I last saw him. Gob. Lord, how art thou changed! How dost thou and thymaster agree I have brought him a present, How "gree you now I 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 famished in his service; you may tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come: give ine your present to one master Bassanio, who, indeed, gives man, my father. Gob. That is the very defect of the matter, sir. Laun. The old proverb is very well parted between my master Shylock and you, sir: you have the grace of God, sir, and he hath enough. Bass. Thou speak'st it well.—Go, father, with thy Take leave of thy old master, and enquire [son.— My lodging out. [To his followers,—J Give him a livery. More guarded than his fellows: see it done. Laun. Father, in.—I cannot get a service, no; I' have ne'er a tongue in my head. Well, [Lookingon his palm ;] if any man in Italy have a fairer table, which doth offer to swear upon a book. I shall have good fortune. Go to, here s a simple line of life I here's a small trifle of wives! alas, fifteen wives is nothing! eleven widows, and nine maids, is a simple coming-in for one man ; and then, to 'scape drowning thrice, and to be in peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed,—here are simple 'scapes! Well, if Fortune he a woman, she's a good wench for this gear.— Father, come; I '11 take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye. {Exeunt Launcelot arid Old Gobbo, 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 t Leon. Yonder, sir, he walks. [Exit. Gra. Signior Bassanio,— Bass. Gratiano! Gra. I have a suit to you. Bass. You have obtain'd it. Gra. You must not deny me: I must go with you to Belmont. ftiano: Bass. Why, then you must. But hear thee, GraThou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice,— Parts that become thee happily enough. And in such eyes as ours appear not faults; But where thou art not know i, why. there they show Something too liberal. P ay thee, take pain To allay with some cold diopi of modesty Thy skipping spirit; lest, through thy wild behaviour, I be misconstru'd in the place I go to, And lose my hopes. Gra. Signior Bassanio, hear me: If I do not put on a sober habit. Talk with respect, and swear but now and then, Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely; Nay, more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes Thus with my hat, and sigh, ana say amen; Use all the observance of civility. Like one well studied in a sad ostent To please his grandam, never trust me more. Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing. Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night: you shall not gage me By what we do to-night. Bass. No, that were pity: I would entreat you rather to put on Gra. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest: SCENE III.—Venice. A Room in Shylock's House. yes. I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so: Laun. Adieu!—tears exhibit my tongue. Most beautiful pagan,—most sweet Jew I If a Christian do not play theTcnave, and get thee, 1 am much deceived. But, adieu I these foolish drops do somewhat drown my manly spirit: adieu! yes. Farewell, good Launcelot.— [Exit Launcelot. Alack, what heinous sin is it in me. If thou keep promise. I shall end this strife; SCENE IV.-Venice. A Street. Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio. Lor. Nay, we will slink away in supper-time, Gra. We have not made good preparation. Salar. We have not spoke as yet of torch-bearers. Satan. 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order'd, And better, in my mind, not undertook. Lor. 'Tis now but four o'clock: we have two hours To furnish us.— Enter Launcelot, with a letter. Friend Launcelot, what's the news? Lann. An it shall please you to break up this, it shall seem to signify. [Giving the letter. I.or. I know the hand: in faith, 'tis a fair hand; Gra. Love-news, in faith. Lann. By your leave, sir. Lor. Whither goest thou T I jinn. Marry, sir, to bid my old master, the Jew, to sup to-night with my new master, the Christian. Lor Hold here, take this:—tell gentle Jessica, Will you prepare you for this mask to-night? Salar. Ay. marry. Ill be gone about it straight. Satan. And so will I. Lor. Meet me and Gratiano At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence. Salar. 'Tis good we do so. [Exeunt Salar. and Salan. Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica! Lor. I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed How I shall take her from her father's house; What gold and jewels she is furnish'd with; What page's suit she hath in readiness. If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven. It will be for his gentle daughter's sake: And never dare misfortune cross her foot, Unless she do (t under this excuse,— That she is issue to a faithless Jew Come, go with me: peruse this as thou goest Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. [Exeunt. SCENE V.—Venice. Before Shylock's House. Enter Shylock and Launcelot Shy. Well, thou shalt see; thy eyes shall be thy judge, difference of old Shylock and Bassanio :— The What, Jessica !—thou shalt not gormandize. Laun. Why, Jessica I Shy. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee calL Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me I could do nothing without bidding. Enter Jessica. yes. Call you? What is your will? Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica: Laun. I beseech you, sir, go: my young master doth expect your reproach. Shy. So do I his. 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 !ast, at six o'clock i' the morning, falling out that year on Ash-Wednesday was four year in the afternoon. [Jessica: Shy. What I are there masques? Hear you me, Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum. And the vile squeaking of the wiy-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. Laun. I will go before, sir.—{Aside to Jessica,] Mistress, look out at window, for all this; There will come a Christian by, Will be worth a Jewess' eye. I£!*i'/ Laun. Shy. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha r yes. His words were, "farewell, mistress;" nothing else. Shy. The patch is kind enough ; but a huge feeder, Sn.iil-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day More than the wild cat: drones hive not with me; Therefore I part with him; and part with him To one that I would have him help to waste His borrow'd purse.—Well, Jessica, go in: Perhaps I will return immediately: Do as I bid you; shut doors after you: "Fast bind, fast find," A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. [Exit. yes. Farewell, and if my fortune be not crost, I have a father, you a daughter, lost. [Exit. SCENE VI.—The Same. 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 Gra. That ever holds: who riseth from a feast |