SCENE III.

Venice. A street.

Enter Shylock, Salanio, Antonio, and Gaoler.

Shy. Gaoler, look to him;-Tell not me of

mercy;

This is the fool that lent out money gratis;

Gaoler, look to him.

Ant.

Hear me yet, good Shylock.

Shy. I'll have my bond; speak not against my

bond;

I have sworn an oath, that I will have my bond:
Thou call'dst me dog, before thou had'st a cause:
But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs :

The duke shall grant me justice.-I do wonder,
Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond
To come abroad with him at his request.

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
To Christian intercessors. Follow not;
I'll have no speaking; I will have my bond.

[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;

I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures

Many that have at times made moan to me;
Therefore he hates me.

• Foolish.

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 he denied,

Will much impeach the justice of the state;
Since that the trade and profit of the city
Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go:
These griefs and losses have so 'bated me,
That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh
To-morrow to my bloody creditor.
Well, gaoler, on-Pray God, Bassanio come
To see me pay this debt, and then I care not!

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Belmont. A room in Portia's house.

Enter Portia, Nerissa, Lorenzo, Jessica, and Bal. thazar.

Lor. Madam, although I speak it in your presence, You have a noble and a true conceit

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 true a gentleman you send relief,
How dear a lover of my lord your husband,
I know, you would be prouder of the work,
Than customary bouuty can enforce you.
Por. I never did repent for doing good,
Nor shall not now: for in companions

That do converse and waste the time together,
Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love,
There must be needs a like proportion
Of lineaments, of manners, and of spirit;
Which makes me think, that this Antonio,

Being the bosom lover of my lord,
Must needs be like my lord: If it be so,
How little is the cost I have bestow'd,
In purchasing the semblance of my soul
From out the state of hellish cruelty?
This comes too near the praising of myself;
Therefore no more of it: hear 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 heaven breath'd a secret vow,
To live in prayer and contemplation,

Only attended by Nerissa here,

Until her husband and my lord's return:

There is a monastery two miles off,

And there we will abide. I do desire you,
Not to deny this imposition;

The which my love, and some necessity,

Now lays upon you.

Lor.

Madam, with all my heart;

I shall obey you in all fair commands.

Por. My people do already know my mind, And will acknowledge you and Jessica

In place of lord Bassanio and myself.

So fare you well, till we shall meet again.

Lor. Fair thoughts, and happy hours, attend on

you.

Jes. I wish your ladyship all heart's content. Por. I thank you for your wish, and am well pleas'd

To wish it back on you: fare you well, Jessica.[Exeunt Jessica and Lorenzo

Now, Balthazar,

As I have ever found thee honest, true,

So let me find thee still: Take this same letter,
And use thou all the endeavour of a man,

In speed to Padua; see thou render this

Into my cousin'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 tranect, to the common ferry

Which trades to Venice-waste no time in words,
But get thee gone; I shall be there before thee.
Balth. Madam, I go with all convenient speed.
[Exit.

Por. Come on, Nerissa; I have work in hand, That you yet know not of: we'll see our husbands, Before they think of us.

Ner.

Shall they see us?
Por. They shall, Nerissa; but in such a habit,
That they shall think we are accomplished
With what we lack. I'll hold thee any wager,
When we are both accouter'd 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 mauly stride; and speak of frays,
Like a fine bragging youth: and tell quaint lies,
How honourable ladies sought my love,
Which I denying, they fell sick and died;
I could not do with all;-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,

That men shall swear I have discontinued school
Above a twelvemonth:-I have within my mind
A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks,
Which I will practise.

Ner.

Why, shall we turn to men? Por. Fy! what a question's that, If thou wert near a lewd interpreter? But come, I'll tell thee all my whole device When I am in my coach, which stays for us At the park gate; and therefore haste away, For we must measure twenty miles to-day.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

The same. A Garden.

Enter Launcelot and Jessica.

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 so now I speak my agitation of the mat ter: 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 bastard hope neither.

Jes. And what hope is that, I pray thee?

Laun. Marry, you may partly hope that your father got you not, that you are not the Jew's daughter.

Jes. That were a kind of bastard hope, indeed; so the sins of my mother should be visited upon me.

Laun. Truly then I fear you are damn'd both by father and mother: thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I fall into Charybdis, your mother: well, you are gone both ways.

Jes. I shall be saved by my husband; he hath made me a Christian.

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 Christians will raise the price of hogs; if we grow all to be pork-eaters, we shall not shortly have a rasher on the coals for money.

Enter Lorenzo.

Jes. I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say; here he comes.