Графични страници
PDF файл
ePub

See to my house, left in the fearful guard >
Of an unthrifty knave, and presently

I will be with you.

Antonio.

[Exit Shylock

Hie the gentle Jew.
ristian: he grows kind.

The Hebrew will turn

Bassanio. I like not fair terms and a villain's mind. Sots

Antonio. Come on: in this there can be no dismay; as it My ships come home a month before the day. [Exeunt. 169 R

[merged small][ocr errors]

SCENE I. Belmont. A room in Portia's house.

[ocr errors][merged small]

Flourish of Cornets. Enter the PRINCE OF MOROCCO and bis

[ocr errors]

train; PORTIA, NERISSA, and others attending,
Morocco. 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 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

[ocr errors]

Have loved it too: I would not change this hue,
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen.
Portia. 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 hedged 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.

Morocco.

[ocr errors]

Even for that I thank you:

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

a

[ocr errors]

سا

10

20

Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets
To try my fortune. By this scimitar,
x That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,
I would outstare the sternest eyes that look,
Outbrave 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,
But, alas the while!

To win thee, lady.

* If Hercules and Lichas play at dice

[ocr errors][ocr errors]

Which is the better man, the greater throw
May turn by fortune from 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.

Portia.

You must take your chance,

And either not attempt to choose at all

Or swear, before you choose, if you choose wrong

Never to speak to lady afterward

In way of marriage: therefore be advised.

30

40

Morocco. Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my chance.

Portia. First, forward to the temple: after dinner

Your hazard shall be made.

Morocco.

To make me blest or cursed'st among men.

Good fortune then!

[ocr errors]

run
[Cornets, and exeunt.

SCENE II. Venice. A street.

Enter LAUNCELOT..

Launcelot. Certainly my conscience will serve me to run

from this Jew my master,

The fiend is at y

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 science says 'No; take heed, honest Launcelol; take he

honest Gobbo,' or, as aforesaid, 'honest Launcelot Gobbo;

[ocr errors]

ACT II. SCENE II.

17

changes from thunt ke

do not run; scorn running with thy heels.' Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack: 'Via!' says the fiend; 'away!' says 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 very 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 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, God bless the mark, is a y 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 incarnal; 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 command; I will run.

Enter Old GOBBO, with a basket.

Gobbo. Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew's?

29

Launcelot. [Aside] O heavens, this is my true-begotten father! who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel-blind, knows me not: I will try confusions with him.

Gobbo. Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew's?

и

Launcelot. Turn up on your right hand at the next turning, but, at the next turning of all, on your left; marry, at the very next turning, turn of no hand, but turn down indirectly to the Jew's house. Gtums in

Gobbo. By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit. Can you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, dwell with him or no?

4I

Launcelot. Talk you of young Master Launcelot? [Aside]

C

[ocr errors]

Y

Mark me now; now will I raise the waters.-Talk you of young Master Launcelot ?

Gobbo. 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.

Launcelot. Well, let his father be what a' will, we talk of young Master Launcelot.

50

Gobbo. Your worship's friend and Launcelot, sir. Launcelot. But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you, talk you of young Master Launcelot ?

Gobbo. Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership.

Launcelot. 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, or, as you would say in plain terms, gone to heaven.

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

playing

[ocr errors]

60

Launcelot. Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or a prop? Do you know me, father?

Gobbo. Alack the day, I know you not, young gentleman: but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy, God rest his soul, alive or dead?

Launcelot. Do you not know me, father?

Gobbo. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind; I know you not. 67 Launcelot. 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 at the length

truth will out.

Gobbo. Pray you, sir, stand up Launcelot, my boy.

am sure you are not

Launcelot. 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.

78

tence

Gobbo. I cannot think you are my son.

Launcelot. 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.

feel pulls

Gobbo. Her name is Margery, indeed: I'll be sworn, if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood. Lord worshipped might he be! what a beard hast thou got! thou hast got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my fillhorse has on his tail.

Launcelot. It should seem then that Dobbin's tail grows backward: I am sure he had more hair of his tail than I have of my face when I last saw him.

90

Gobbo. Lord, how art thou changed! How dost thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a present. How 'gree you now?

Launcelot. 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 me your present to one > Master Bassanio, who indeed gives rare new liveries: if I serve not him, I will run as far as God has any ground. O rare fortune! here comes the man: to him, father; for I am a Jew, if I şerve the Jew any longer.

103

Enter BASSANIO, with LEONARDO and other followers. Bassanio. 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 delivered; put the liveries to making, and delodging a Servant.

sire Gratiano to come anon to my rates.

Launcelot. To him, father.

Gobbo. God bless your worship!

Bassanio. Gramercy! wouldst thou aught with me? yio
Gobbo. Here's my son, sir, a poor boy,

[ocr errors]

Launcelot. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man;

that would, sir, as my father shall specify—

[ocr errors]
« ПредишнаНапред »