Forced by the tide to combat with the wind;
Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea
Forced to retire by fury of the wind:

Sometime the flood prevails, and then the wind;
10 Now one the better, then another best;
Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast,
Yet neither conqueror nor conquered:
So is the equal poise of this fell war.
Here on this mole-hill will I sit me down.
15 To whom God will, there be the victory!
For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too,
Have chid me from the battle; swearing both
They prosper best of all when I am thence.
Would I were dead! if God's good will were so;
20 For what is in this world but grief and woe?
O God! methinks it were a happy life,

To be no better than a homely swain;
To sit upon a hill, as I do now,

To carve out dials quaintly, point by point,
25 Thereby to see the minutes how they run,
How many make the hour full complete;
How many hours bring about the day;
How many days will finish up the year;
How many years a mortal man may live.
80 When this is known, then to divide the times:
So many hours must I tend my flock;
So many hours must I take my rest;
So many hours must I contemplate;
So many hours must I sport myself;

35 So many days my ewes have been with young;
So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean;
So many years ere I shall shear the fleece:
So minutes, hours, days, months, and years,
Pass'd over to the end they were created,
40 Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely!
Gives not the hawthorn-bush a sweeter shade
To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep,
Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy
45 To kings that fear their subjects' treachery?
O, yes, it doth; a thousand-fold it doth.
And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds,
His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle,
His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade,
50 All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,
Is far beyond a prince's delicates,
His viands sparkling in a golden cup,
His body couched in a curious bed,

When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.

From THE MERCHANT OF VENICE.

[About 1595]

Act IV.

Scene I. Venice. A court of justice.

Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Antonio, Bassanio, Gratiano, Salerio, and others.

Duke. What, is Antonio here?

Ant. Ready, so please your Grace.

Duke. I am sorry for thee: thou art come to answer A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch

5 Uncapable of pity, void and empty

From any dram of mercy.

Ant.

I have heard

Your Grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify

His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate,
And that no lawful means can carry me

10 Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose

15

My patience to his fury; and am arm'd
To suffer, with a quietness of spirit,

The very tyranny and rage of his.

Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the court.
Saler. He is ready at the door: he comes, my lord.
Enter Shylock.

Duke. Make room, and let him stand before our face.
Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too,
That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice
To the last hour of act; and then 'tis thought
20 Thou'lt show thy mercy and remorse more strange
Than is thy strange apparent cruelty;

And where thou now exact'st the penalty,
Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh,
Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture,

25 But, touch'd with human gentleness and love,
Forgive a moiety of the principal;
Glancing an eye of pity on his losses,
That have of late so huddled on his back,
Enow to press a royal merchant down,

so And pluck commiseration of his state

35

From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint,
From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train'd
To offices of tender courtesy.

We all expect a gentle answer, Jew.

Shy. I have possess'd your Grace of what I purpose; And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn

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.
40 You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have
A weight of carrion-flesh than to receive

Three thousand ducats: I'll not answer that;
But, say, it is my humour: is it answer'd?
What if my house be troubled with a rat,
45 And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats
To have it baned? What, are you answer'd yet?
Some men there are love not a gaping pig;
Some, that are mad if they behold a cat.
So can I give no reason, nor I will not,
50 More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing
I bear Antonio, that I follow thus

55

60

...

A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd?
Bass. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man,
To excuse the current of thy cruelty.

Shy. I am not bound to please thee with my answer.
Bass. Do all men kill the things they do not love?
Shy. Hates any man the thing he would not kill?
Bass. Every offence is not a hate at first.

Shy. What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice?
Ant. I pray you, think you question with the Jew:

You may as well go stand upon the beach,

And bid the main flood bate his usual height;

You may as well use question with the wolf,
Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb;
65 You may as well forbid the mountain pines
To wag their high tops, and to make no noise,
When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven;
You may as well do any thing most hard,

As seek to soften that than which what's harder? 70 His Jewish heart: therefore, I do beseech you,

75

Make no more offers, use no farther means,

But with all brief and plain conveniency

Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will.

Bass. For thy three thousand ducats here is six.
Shy. If every ducat in six thousand ducats

Were in six parts and every part a ducat,

I would not draw them; I would have my bond.

Duke. How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none?
Shy. What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong?

80 You have among you many a purchased slave,

Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules, You use in abject and in slavish parts, Because you bought them: shall I say to you, Let them be free, marry them to your heirs? 85 Why sweat they under burthens? let their beds Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates Be season'd with such viands? You will answer, "The slaves are ours': so do I answer you: The pound of flesh, which I demand of him, 90 Is dearly bought; 'tis mine, and I will have it.

If you deny me, fie upon your law!

There is no force in the decrees of Venice.

I stand for judgment: answer; shall I have it?
Duke. Upon my power I may dismiss this court,

95 Unless Bellario, a learned doctor,

100

Whom I have sent for to determine this,

Duke. Bring us the letters; call the messenger.

Bass. Good cheer, Antonio! What, man, courage yet! The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all, Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood.

Ant. I am a tainted wether of the flock, 105 Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit Drops earliest to the ground; and so let me: You cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio, Than to live still, and write mine epitaph.

110

Enter Nerissa, dressed like a lawyer's clerk.

Duke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario?
Ner. From both, my lord. Bellario greets your Grace.

(Presenting a letter.)

Bass. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?
Shy. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there.
Gra. Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,
Thou makest thy knife keen; but no metal can,
115 No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keenness
Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee?
Shy. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make.
Gra. O, be thou damn'd, inexecrable dog!
And for thy life let justice be accused.
120 Thou almost makest me waver in my faith,
To hold opinion with Pythagoras,

That souls of animals infuse themselves
Into the trunks of men: thy currish spirit
Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for human slaughter,

125 Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet,
And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam,

Infused itself in thee; for thy desires

Are wolvish, bloody, starved, and ravenous.

Shy. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond,

130 Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud:

Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall

To cureless ruin. I stand here for law.

Duke. This letter from Bellario doth commend

A young and learned doctor to our court.

135 Where is he?

140

To know your answer, whether you'll admit him.

Duke. With all my heart. Some three or four of you

Go give him courteous conduct to this place.

Meantime the court shall hear Bellario's letter.

Clerk (reads). Your Grace shall understand that at the receipt of your letter I am very sick: but in the instant that your messenger came, in loving visitation was with me a young doctor of Rome; his name is Balthasar. I acquainted him with the cause in controversy between the Jew and Antonio the merchant: we turned o'er many books together: he 145 is furnished with my opinion; which, bettered with his own learning, the greatness whereof I cannot enough commend, comes with him, at my importunity, to fill up your Grace's request in my stead. I beseech you, let his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a reverend estimation; for I never knew so young a body with so old a head. I 150 leave him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his commendation."

155

160

Duke. You hear the learn'd Bellario, what he writes:
And here, I take it, is the doctor come.

Give me your hand.

Enter Portia for Balthasar.

Come you from old Bellario?

Por. I did, my lord.

Duke.

You are welcome: take your place.

Are you acquainted with the difference

That holds this present question in the court?
Por. I am informed throughly of the cause.
Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew?
Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth.
Por. Is your name Shylock?

Shy.

Shylock is my name.
Por. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow;
Yet in such rule that the Venetian law

Cannot impugn you as you do proceed.

165 You stand within his danger, do you not?

Ant. Ay, so he says.

Por.

Ant. I do.

Por.

Do you confess the bond?

Then must the Jew be merciful.
Shy. On what compulsion must I? tell me that.
Por. The quality of mercy is not strain'd,

170 It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd;
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes:
"Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown;
175 His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,