THE EXCELLENT History of the Merchant of Venice. With the extreme cruelty of Shylocke the Jew towards the said Merchant, in cutting a just pound of his flesh. And the obtaining of Portia, by the choice of three Caskets.  
Written by W. SHAKESPEARE.  
Printed by J. Roberts, 1600.   

The Comical History of the Merchant of Venice.  Enter Anthonio, Salaryno, and Salanio. ANthonio. 
Insooth I know not why I am so sad,  
It wearies me, you say it wearies you;  
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,  
What stuff 'tis made off, whereof it is borne,  
I am to learn: & such a want-wit sadness makes of me,  
That I have much ado to know myself.  Salarino. 
Your mind is tossing on the Ocean,  
There where your Argosies with portly sail,  
Like Signiors and rich Burgars on the flood,  
Or as it were the Pageants of the sea,  
Do overpeer the petty traffickers  
That curtsy to them, do them reverence  
As they fly by them with their woven wings.  Salanio. 
Believe me sir, had I such venture forth,  
The better part of my affections would  
Be with my hopes abroad, I should be still  
Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind,  
Piering in Maps, for Ports, for peers and Rhodes;  
And every object that might make me fear.  
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt  
Would make me sad.  Salar. 
My wind cooling my broth,  
Would blow me to an Ague, when I thought  
What harm a wind too great at sea, might do.  
I should not see the sandy hourglass run,  
But I should think of shallows, and of flats,  
And see my wealthy Andrew docks in sand,  
Veiling her high top lower than her ribs,  
To kiss her burial. Should I go to Church,  
And see the holy edifice of stone,  
And not bethink me strait of dangerous rocks,  
Which touching but my gentle vessels side,  
Would scatter all the spices on the stream,  
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks;  
And in a word, but even now worth this,  
And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought  
To think on this, and shall I lack the thought,  
That such a thing be-chanced would make me sad it  
But tell not me, I know Anthony  
Is sad to think upon his merchandise.  Anth. 
Believe me no: I thank my fortune for it,  
My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,  
Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate  
Upon the fortune of this present year:  
Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad.  Salar. 
Then you're in love.  Anth. 
Fie, fie.  Salar. 
Not in love neither? Then let us say you are sad,  
Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy  
For you to laugh and leap, and say you are merry,  
Because you are not sad. Now by two-headed Janus,  
Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time:  
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,  
And laugh like parrots at a bagpiper.  
And other of such vinegar aspect,  
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,  
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.  Enter Bassanio, Lorouse, and Gratiano. Salan. 
Here comes Bassanio your most noble kinsman,  
Gratiano and Lorenzo: farewell,  
We leave you now with better company.  Salar. 
I would have staid till I had made you merry,  
If worthier friends had not prevented me.  Anth. 
Your worth is very dear in my regard.  
I take it your own business calls on you,  
And you embrace the occasion to departed.  Salar. 
Good morrow my good Lords.  Bass. 
Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say, when?  
You grow exceeding strange: must it be so?  Salar. 
we'll make our leisures to attend on yours.  Exeunt Salarino and Salania. Lor. 
My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Anthonio,  
we two will leave you; but at dinner time  
I pray you have in mind where we must meet.  Bass. 
I will not fail you.  Exit Grat. 
You look not well signor Anthonio,  
You have too much respect upon the world:  
They lose it that do buy it with much care,  
Believe me you are marvelously changed.  Ant. 
I hold the world but as the world Gratiano,  
A stage, where every one must play a part,  
And mine a sad one.  Gra. 
Let me play the fool,  
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come;  
And let my liver rather heat with wine,  
Then my heart cool with mortifying groans.  
Why should a man whose blood is warm within,  
Sat like his Grandsire cut in alabaster?  
Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice.  
By being peevish? I tell thee what Anthonio,  
I love thee, and 'tis my love that speaks.  
There are a sort of men, whose visages  
Do dream and mantle like a standing pond,  
And do a wilful stillness entertain,  
With purpose to be dressed in an opinion  
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit,  
As who should say, I am sir Oracle,  
And when I open my lips, let no dog bark.  
O my Anthonio, I do know of those  
That therefore only are reputed wise  
For saying nothing; when I am very sure  
If they should speak, would almost damn those ears,  
Which hearing them would call their brother's fools,  
I'll tell thee more of this another time.  
But fish not with this melancholy bait,  
For this fool gudgeon, this opinion:  
Come good Lorenzo, farewell a while,  
I'll end my exhortation after dinner.  Loren. 
Well, we will leave you then till dinner time.  
I must be one of these same dumb wise men,  
For Gratiano never lets me speak.  Gra. 
Well, keep me company but two years more,  
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.  An. 
Farewell, I'll grow a talker for this gear.  Gra. 
Thanks i'faith, for silence is only commendable  
In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendable.  Exeunt. An. 
It 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  
To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,  
That you to day promised to tell me of.  Bass. 
'tis not unknown to you Anthonio,  
How much I have disabled mine estate,  
By something showing a more swelling port,  
Then my faint means would grant continuance,  
Nor do I now make moan to be abridged  
From such a noble rate, but my chief care  
Is to come fairly off from the great debts  
Wherein my time something too prodigal  
Hath left me gauged: to you Anthonio,  
I own the most in money and in love,  
And from your love I have a warranty  
To unburden all my plots and purposes  
How to get clear of all the debts I owe.  Antho. 
I pray you good Bassanio, let me know it,  
And if it stand as you yourself still do,  
Within the eye of honour, be assured  
My purse, my person, my extremest means  
Lie all unlocked to your occasions.  Bass. 
In my school days. when I had lost one shaft,  
I shot his fellow of the self-same flight  
The self-same way, with more advised watch  
To find the other forth, and by adventring both,  
I oft found both: I urge this childhood proof,  
Because what follows, is pure innocence.  
I own you much, and like a wilful youth,  
That which I own is lost, but if you please  
To shoot another arrow that self way  
Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,  
As I will watch the aim or to find both,  
Or bring your latter hazard back again,  
And thankfully rest debtor for the first.  Ant. 
You know me well, and herein spend but time.  
To wind about my love with circumstance,  
And out of doubt you do me now more wrong,  
In making question of my uttermost,  
Then if you had made waste of all I have:  
Then do but say to me, what I should do,  
That in your knowledge may by me be done,  
And I am priest unto it, therefore speak.  Bass. 
In Belmont is a Lady richly left,  
And she is fair, and fairer than that word,  
Of wondrous virtues. Sometimes from her eyes  
I did receive fair speechless messages:  
Her name is Portia; nothing under-valued  
To Cato's daughter, Brutus Portia.  
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth,  
For the four winds blow in from every coast  
Renowned suitors, and her sunny locks  
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece,  
which makes her seat of Belmont, Colchoe strand,  
And many jasons comes in quest of her.  
O my Anthonio, had I but the means  
To hold a rival place with one of them,  
I have a mind presages me such thrift,  
That I should questionless be fortunate.  Ant. 
Thou know'st that all my fortunes are atica,  
Neither have I money, nor commodity,  
To raise a present sum. Therefore go forth,  
Try what my credit can in Venice do,  
That shall be racked even to the uttermost,  
To furnish thee to Belmont to fair Portia.  
Go presently inquire, and so will I  
where money is, and I no question make,  
To have it of my trust, or for my sake.  Exeunt Enter Portia with her waiting Woman Nerrissa. Portia. 
By my troth Nerrissa, my little body is a weary of this great world.  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 statue with nothing; it is no mean happiness therefore to be seated in the mean, superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives, longer.  Portia. 
Good sentences, and well pronounced.  Ner. 
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 his own instructions: I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, then to be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching: the brain may devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps over a cold decree, such a hare is madness the youth, to skip over 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 who I would, nor refuse who 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 lottry that he hath devised in these three chests of gold, silver, and lead, whereof who chooses his meaning chooses you, no doubt you will never be chosen by any rightly, but one who shall rightly love: But what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these Princely suitors that are already come?  Por. 
I prithee 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. 
I that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse, and he makes it a great appropriation unto his own good parts, that he can shoe himself: I am much afeard my Lady his Mother played false with a smith.  Ner. 
Then there is the County Palatine.  Por. 
He doth nothing but frown (as who should say, if you will not have me, choose; he hears merry tales and smiles not, I fear he will prove the weeping Philosopher when he grows old, being so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth.) I had rather be married to a death's head with a bone in his mouth, then to either of these: God defend me from these two.  Ner. 
How say you by the French Lord, monsieur le boon?  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 Neapolitans, a better bad habit of frowning then the Count Palatine, he is every man in no man, if a Trassell sing, he falls strait a capting, he will fence with his own shadow. If I should marry him, I should marry twenty husbands: if he would despise me, I would forgive him, for if he love me to madness, I shall never requite him.  Ner. 
What say you then to Fauconbridge, the young Baron of England?  Por. 
You know I say nothing to him, for he understands not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian, & you will come into the Court and swear that I have a poor pennyworth 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 think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour every where.  Nerissa. 
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 scald under for another.  Ner. 
How like you the young German, the Duke of saxovies nephew?  Por. 
Very vildly in the morning when he is sober, and most vilely in 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; and 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 father's will, if you should refuse to accept him.  Por. 
Therefore for fear of the worst, I prithee set a deep glass of Reynish 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 Nerissa, ere i'll 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 then your father's imposition, depending on the Caskets.  Por. 
If I live to be as old as Sibilla, 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 wooers are so reasonable, for there is not one among them but I dote on his very absence; & I pray God grant them a fair departure.  Ner. 
Do you not remember Lady in your father's time, a Venetian scholar and a soldier that came hitherin company of the marquess of Mountferrat?  Portia. 
Yes, yes, it was Bassanio, as I think he was so called.  Ner. 
True madam, he of all the men that ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair Lady.  Por. 
I remember him well, and I remember him worthy of thy praise.  
How now, what news?  Enter a servingman. Ser. 
The four strangers seek for you madam, to take their leave; and there is a forerunner come from a fift, the Prince of Morocco, who brings word the Prince his Master will be here to night.  Por. 
If I could bid the fift welcome, with so good a heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I should be glad of his approach: if he have the condition of a Saint, and the complexion of a devil, I had rather he should shrive me then wive me. Come Nerrissa, sirrah go before: whiles we shut the gates upon one wooer, another knocks at the door.  Exeunt. Enter Bassanio, with Shylocke the jew. Shy. 
Three thousand ducats, well.  Bass. 
I sir, for three months.  Shy. 
For three months, well.  Bass. 
For the which as I told you, Anthonio shall be bound.  Shy. 
Anthonio shall become bound, well.  Bass. 
May you stead me? Will you pleasure me!  
Shall I know your answer?  Shy. 
Three thousand ducats for three months, and Anthonio bound.  Bass. 
Your answer to that.  Shy. 
Anthonio is a good man.  Bass. 
Have you heard any imputation to the contrary?  Shy. 
Ho 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 Tripoli, another to the Indies, I understand moreover upon the Ryalta, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England, & other ventures he hath squandered abroad, but ships are but boards, sailors but men; there be land rats, and water rats, water thieves, and land 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 take his bond.  Bass. 
Be assured you may.  Shy. 
I will be assured I may: and that I may be assured, I will bethink me, may I speak with Anthonio?  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 Anthonio. Bass. 
This is signior Anthonio.  Shy. 
How like a fawning Publican he looks.  
I hate him for he is a Christian:  
But more, for that in low simplicity  
He lends out money gratis, and brings down  
The rate of usance here with us in Venice.  
If I can catch him once upon the hip,  
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.  
He hates our sacred Nation, and he rails  
Even there where Merchants most do congregate,  
On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift,  
Which he calls interest: Cursed be my Tribe  
If I forgive him.  Bass. 
Shylocke, do you hear.  Shy. 
I am debating of my present store,  
And by the near guess of my memory,  
I cannot instantly raise up the gross  
Of full three thousand ducats: what of that?  
Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my Tribe,  
Will furnish me; but soft, how many months  
Do you desire? Rest you fair good signor,  
Your worship was the last man in our mouths.  Ant. 
Shylocke, although 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: are you resolved,  
How much he would have?  Shy. 
I, I, three thousand ducats.  Ant. 
And for three months.  Shy. 
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  
Upon advantage.  Ant. 
I do never use it.  Shy. 
When Jacob grazed his uncle Laban's sheep,  
This Jacob from our holy Abram was  
(As his wise Mother wrought in his behalf)  
The third possessor; I, 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 compremyzd,  
That all the canelings which were streaked and pied,  
Should fall as Jacobs' hire, the Ewes being rank,  
In th'end of autumn turned to the Rams,  
And when the work of generation was  
Between these woolly breeders in the act,  
The skilful shepherd pyld 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 particoloured lambs, and those were Jacobs'.  
This was a way to thrive, and he was blessed:  
And thrift is blessing if men steal it not.  Ant. 
This was a venture sir, that Jacob ser'ud for,  
A thing not in his power to bring to pass,  
But swaud and fashioned by the hand of heaven.  
Was this inserted to make interest good?  
Or is your gold and silver, Ewes and Rams?  Shy. 
I cannot tell, I make it breed as fast,  
But note me signor.  Ant. 
Mark you this Bassanio,  
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose,  
An evil soul producing holy witness,  
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek,  
A goodly apple rotten at the heart.  
O what a goodly outside falsehood hath.  Shy. 
Three thousand ducats, 'tis a good round sum.  
Three months from twelve, then let me see the rate.  Ant. 
Well Shylocke, shall we be beholding to you?  Shy. 
signor Anthonio, many a time and oft  
In the Rialto you have rated me  
About my moneys and my usances:  
Still have I borne it with a patiented shrug,  
(For sufferance is the badge of all our Tribe)  
You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog,  
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine,  
And all for use of that which is mine own.  
Well then, it now appears you need my help:  
Go to then, you come to me, and you say,  
Shylocke, we would have moneys, you say so:  
You that did void your rheum upon my beard,  
And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur  
Over your threshold, money is your suit,  
What should I say to you? Should I not say,  
Hath a dog money? is it possible  
A cur can lend three thousand ducats? or  
Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key,  
With bated breath, and whispering humbleness  
Say this: fair sir, you spit on me on wendsday last,  
You spurned me such a day another time,  
You called me dog: and for these courtesies  
I'll lend you thus much moneys.  Ant. 
I am as like to call thee so again,  
To spit on thee again, to spurn thee to.  
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not  
As to thy friends, for when did friendship take  
A breed for barren metal of his friend?  
But lend it rather to thine enemy,  
Who if he break, thou Mayst with better face  
Exact the penalty.  Shy. 
Why look you how you storm,  
I would be friends with you, and have your love,  
Forget the shames that you have stained me with,  
Supply your present wants, and take no dote  
Of usance for my moneys, and you'll not hear me,  
This is kind I offer.  Bass. 
This were kindness.  Shy. 
This kindness will I show,  
Go with me to a notary, seal me there  
Your single bond, and in a merry sport,  
If you repay me not on such a day  
In such a place, such sum or sums as are  
Expressed in the condition, let the forfeit  
Be nominated for an equal pound  
Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken  
In what part of your body pleaseth me.  Ant. 
Content i'faith, i'll seal to such a bond,  
And say there is much kindness in the jew.  Bass. 
You shall not seal to such a bond for me,  
I'll rather dwell in my necessity.  An. 
Why fear not man, I will not forfeit it,  
Within these two months, that's a month before  
This bond expires, I do expect return  
Of thrice three times the value of this bond.  Shy. 
O father Abram, what these Christians are,  
Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect  
The thoughts of others: pray you tell me this,  
If he should break his day, what should I gain  
By the exaction of the forfeiture?  
A pound of man's flesh taken from a man,  
Is not so estimable, profitable neither  
As flesh of Muttons, beeves, or Goats, I say,  
To buy his favour, I extend this friendship,  
If he will take it so, if not adieu,  
And for my love, I pray you wrong me not.  Ant. 
Yes Shylocke, I will seal unto this bond.  Shy. 
Then meet me forthwith at the Noteries,  
Give him direction for this merry bond,  
And I will go and purse the ducats strait,  
See to my house, left in the fearful guard  
Of an unthrifty knave; and presently  
I'll be with you.  Exit. Ant. 
High thee gentle Jew: the Hebrew will turn Christian, he grows so kind.  Bass. 
I like not fair terms, and a villains mind.  Ant. 
Come on, in this there can be no dismay.  
My ships come home a month before the day.  Exeunt Enter Morochus a tawny Moor all in white, and three or four followers accordingly, with Portia, Nerrissa, & their train. Moroc. 
Mislike me not for my complexion,  
The shadowed livery of the burnished sun,  
To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred.  
Bring the fairest creature northward borne,  
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 feared the valiant (by my love I swear)  
The best regarded virgins of our clime  
Hath loved it too: I would not change this hue,  
Except to steal your thoughts my gentle Queen.  Por. 
In terms of choice I am not solely led  
By nice direction of a maidens eyes.  
Besides, the Lottry 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) than stood as fair  
As any comer I have looked on yet,  
For my affection.  Mor. 
Even for that I thank you,  
Therefore I pray you lead me to the Caskets  
To try my fortune. By this Semitaur  
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 tores for prey,  
To win the Lady. But alas, the while  
If Hercules and Lichas play at dice  
Which is the better man, the greater throw  
May turn by fortune from the weaker hand:  
So is Alcides beaten by his rage,  
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.  Mor. 
Nor will not, come bring me to my chance  Por. 
First forward to the Temple, after dinner  
Your hazard shall be made.  Mor. 
Good fortune then,  
To make me blessed, or cursedst among men.  Exeunt. Enter the clown alone. Clown. 
Certainly, my conscience will serve me to run from this Jew my master. The fiend is at mine elbow, and tempts me saying to me, Gobbo, Lancelet Gobbo, good Lancelet, or good Gobbo, or good Lancelet Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away: My Conscience says no; take heed honest Lancelet, take heed honest Gobbo, or as aforesaid, honest Launcelet Gobbo, do not run, scorn running with thy heels. Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack fia 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 Lancelet, being an honest man's son, or rather an honest woman's son, for indeed my Father did something smack, something grow too, he had a kind of taste: well, my conscience says budge not; budge says the fiend; budge not says my Conscience. Conscience say I you counsel well; Fiend say I you counsel ill. To be ruled by my Conscience, I should stay with 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 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 Jews'?  Lance. 
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.  Gobbo. 
Master young Gentleman, I pray you which is the way to master Jews?  Lance. 
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 unto the Jews house.  Gobbo. 
Be God's santies 'twill be a hard way to hit, can you tell me whither one Lancelet that dwells with him, dwell with him, or no?  Lancelet. 
Talk you of young master Lancelet? Mark me now, now will I raise the waters:  
Talk you of young M. Lancelet?  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.  Lancelet. 
Well, let his Father be what a will, we talk of young Master Launcelet.  Gob. 
Your worship's friend, and Lancelet sir.  Lan. 
But I pray you ergo old man, ergo I beseech you, talk you of young M. Lancelet.  Gobrias, 
Of Lancelet an't please your mastership.  Lan. 
Ergo master Lancelet, talk not of Master Lancelet Father; for the young Gentleman according to fates and destinies, and such odd sayings, the sister's three, and such branches of learning, is indeed deceased, or as you would say in plain terms, gone to heaven.  Gob. 
Marry God forbidden, the boy was the very staff of my age, my very prop.  Lance. 
Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel post, a staff, or a prop: do you know me Father.  Gob. 
A lack the day, I know you not young Gentleman, but I pray you tell me, is my boy (GOD rest his soul) alive or dead.  Lance. 
Do you not know me Father?  Gob. 
Alack sir, I am sand blind, I know you not.  Lan. 
Nay, in deed 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, I am sure you are not Launcelet my boy.  Lance. 
Pray you let's have no more fooling about it, but give me your blessing; I am Lancelot your boy that was, your son that is, your child that shall be.  Gob. 
I cannot think you are my son.  Lance. 
I know not what I shall think of that, but I am Lancelet the Jews man, and I am sure Margery your wife is my mother.  Gob. 
Her name is Margery indeed, i'll be sworn if thou be Lancelet, 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 pilhorse has on his tale.  Lan. 
It should seem then that Dobbins tail grows backward. I am sure he had more hair of his tail than I have of my face, when I last saw him.  Gob. 
Lord how art thou changed: how dost thou and thy Master agree? I have brought him a present; how agree you now?  Lance. 
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 serve the Jew any longer.  Enter Bassanio with a follower or two. Bass. 
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 desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging.  Exit one of his men. Lance. 
To him Father.  Gob. 
God bless your Worship.  Bass. 
Gramercy, wouldst thou aught with me?  Gob. 
Here's my son sir, a poor boy.  Lance. 
Not a poor boy sir, but the rich Jews' man that would sir, as my father shall specify.  Gob. 
He hath a great infection sir, as one would say to serve.  Lance. 
Indeed the 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 reverence) are scarce catercosins.  Lan. 
To be brief, the very truth is, that the Jew having done me wrong, doth cause me as my Father, being I hope, an old man, shall frutifie unto you.  Gob. 
I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow upon your worship: and my suit is—  Lan. 
In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself, as your worship shall know by this honest old man, and though I say it, though old man, yet poor man my father.  Bass. 
One speak for both, what would you?  Lan. 
Serve you sir.  Gob. 
That is the very defect of the matter sir.  Bass. 
I know thee well, thou hast obtained thy suit,  
Shylocke thy master spoke with me this day,  
And hath preferred thee, if it be preferment  
To leave a rich Jews' service, to become  
The follower of so poor a Gentleman.  Lan. 
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 son,  
Take leave of thy old master, and inquire  
My Lodging out. Give him a livery  
More guarded than his fellows, see it done.  Lan. 
Father in, I cannot get a service, no, I ha' near a tongue in my head. Well, if any man in Italy have a fairer table which doth offer to swear upon a book, I shall have good fortune. Go too, here's a simple line of life, 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 escape drowning thrice, and to be in peril of my life with the edge of a featherbed, here are simple 'scapes: well, if Fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this gear. Father, come, i'll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye.  Exit clown. Bass. 
I pray thee good Leonardo think on this,  
These things being bought, and orderly bestowed,  
Return in haste, for I do feast to night,  
My best esteemed acquaintance, hie thee, go.  Leon. 
My best endeavours shall be done herein.  Exit Enter Gratiano. Gra. 
Where's your Master.  Leon. 
Yonder sir he walks.  Gra. 
signor Bassanio.  Bass. 
Gratiano?  Gra. 
I have a suit to you.  Bass. 
You have obtained it.  Gra. 
You must not deny me, I must go with you to Belmont.  Bass. 
Why then you must. But hear thee Gratiano,  
Thou 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 known. Why there they show  
Something too liberal: prithee take pain  
To allay with some cold drops of modesty  
Thy skipping spirit, lest through thy wild behaviour  
I be misconstred in the place I go to,  
And lose my hopes.  Gra. 
signor Bassanio, hear me:  
If I do not put on a sober habit,  
Talk with respect, and swear but now and than;  
Wear prayer books in my pocket, look demurely,  
Nay more, while Grace is saying, hood mine eyes  
Thus with my hat, and sigh, and 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 gauge me  
By what we do to night.  Bass. 
No that were pity,  
I would entreat you rather to put on  
Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends  
That purpose merriment: but fareyewell,  
I have some business.  Gra. 
And I must to Lorenzo and the rest,  
But we will visit you at supper time.  Exeunt. Enter Jessica and the clown. jessica. 
I am sorry thou wilt leave my Father so,  
Our house is hell, and thou a merry devil  
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness,  
But far thee well, there is a ducat for thee,  
And Lancelet, soon at supper shalt thou see  
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest,  
Give him this Letter, do it secretly,  
And so farewell: I would not have my Father  
See me in talk with thee.  Lance. 
Adieu, tears exhibit my tongue, most beautiful Pagan, most sweet Jew, if a Christian do not play the knave and get thee, I am much deceived; but adieu, these foolish drops do something drown my manly spirit: adieu.  Exit. jessica. 
Farewell good Lancelet.  
Alack, what heinous sin is it in me,  
To be ashamed to be my father's child,  
But though I am a daughter to his blood,  
I am not to his manners: O Lorenzo,  
If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife,  
Become a Christian, and thy loving wife.  Exit. Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio. Loren. 
Nay, we will slink away in supper time,  
Disguise us at my lodging and return all in an hour.  Gra. 
We have not made good preparation.  Salar. 
We have not spoke us yet of torchbearers,  Salanio. 
'tis vile, unless it may be quaintly ordered,  
And better in my mind not undertook.  Loren. 
'tis now but four a clock, we have two hours  Enter Lancelet. 
To furnish us; friend Lancelet, what's the news?  Lan. 
If it please you to break up this, it shall seem to signify.  Loren. 
I know the hand, in faith 'tis a fair hand,  
And whiter than the paper it writ on,  
Is the fair hand that writ.  Grat. 
love news, in faith.  Lance. 
By your leave sir.  Loren. 
Whither goest thou?  Lance. 
Marry sir, to bid my old Master the Jew to sup to night with my new Master the Christian.  Loren. 
Hold here take this, tell gentle Jessica,  
I will not fail her, speak it privately.  
Go Gentlemen, will you prepare for this mask to night,  
I am provided of a torchbearer.  Exit clown. Salar. 
I marry, i'll be gone about it strait.  Salan. 
And so will 1  Loren. 
Meet me and Gratiano at Gratianos' lodging,  
Some hour hence.  Salar. 
'tis good we do so.  Exit. Grat. 
Was not that Letter from fair Jessica?  Loren. 
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 furnished with,  
What Pages suit she hath in readiness,  
If ere 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 it 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 torchbearer.  Exits Enter the Jew and Lancelet. Shy. 
Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge,  
The difference of old Shylocke and Bassanio;  
What Jessica, thou shalt not gormandize  
As thou hast done with me: what Jessica?  
And sleep, and snore, and rend apparel out.  
Why Jessica I say.  Clown. 
Why Jessica.  Shy. 
Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call.  Clo. 
Your worship was wont to tell me, that I could do nothing without bidding.  Enter Jessica. jes. 
Call you? what is your will?  Shy. 
I am bid forth to supper Jessica,  
There are my keys; but wherefore should I go?  
I am not bid for love, they flatter me,  
But yet i'll go in hate, to feed upon  
The prodigal Christian. Jessica my girl,  
Look to my house. I am right loath to go,  
There is some ill a brewing towards my rest,  
For I did dream of money bags to night.  Clown. 
I beseech you sir go,  
My young Master doth expect your reproach.  Shy. 
So do I his.  Clown. 
And they have conspired together, I will not say you shall see a mask; but if you do, than it was not for nothing that my nose fell a bleeding on black monday last, at six a clock in the morning, falling out that year on Ashwensday was four year in th' afternoon.  Shy. 
What, are there masks? Hear me Jessica:  
Lock up my doors, and when you hear the drum,  
And the vile squeaking of the wry-necked Fife,  
Clamber not you up to the Casements then,  
Nor thrust your head into the public street,  
To gaze on Christian fools with varnished faces:  
But stop my houses ears, I mean my Casements,  
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter  
My sober house. By Jacobs' 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.  Clown. 
I will go before sir.  
Mistress look out at a window for all this,  
There will come a Christian by,  
Will be worth a Jews eye.  Shy. 
What says that fool of Hagars' offspring? ha.  jes. 
His words were, Farewell mistress, nothing else.  Shy. 
The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder,  
Snaile-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 borrowed 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 stolen in thrifty mind.  Exit jes. 
Farewell, and if my fortune be not crossed,  
I have a Father, you a daughter lost.  Exit. Enter the maskers, Gratiano and Salarino. Gra. 
This is the penthouse under which  
Lorenzo desired us to make stand.  Sal. 
His hour is almost past.  Gra. 
And it is marvel he out-dwels his hour,  
For lovers ever run before the clock.  Sal. 
O ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly  
To seal loves bonds new made, than they are wont  
To keep obliged faith unforfaited.  Gra. 
That ever holds: who riseth from a feast  
With that keen appetite that he sits down?  
Where is the horse that doth untreade again  
His tedious measures, with the unbated fire  
That he did place them first? All things that are,  
Are with more spirit chased then enjoyed.  
How like a younger or a prodigal,  
The skarfed bark puts from her native bay,  
Hugged and embraced by the strumpet wind,  
How like the prodigal doth she return  
With over-wetherd ribs and ragged sails,  
Lean, rent, and beggared by the strumpet wind?  Enter Lorenzo. Sal. 
Here comes Lorenzo, more of this hereafter.  Lo. 
Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode  
Not I, but my affairs have made you wait:  
When you shall please to play the thieves for wives  
I'll watch as long for you then: approach,  
Here dwells my father jew. Ho, whose within?  jessica above. jess. 
Who are you? tell me for more certainty,  
Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue.  Lor. 
Lorenzo and thy love.  jess. 
Lorenzo certain, and my love indeed,  
For who love I so much? and now who knows  
But you Lorenzo, whether I am yours?  Lo. 
Heaven & thy thoughts are witness that thou art  jess. 
Here, catch this Casket, 'tis worth the pains,  
I am glad 'tis night you do not look on me,  
For I am much ashamed of my exchange:  
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see  
The pretty follies that themselves commit,  
For if they could, Cupid himself would blush  
To see me thus transformed to a boy.  Lor. 
Descend, for you must be my torchbearer.  jess. 
What, must I hold a Candle to my shames,  
They in themselves good-sooth are too too light.  
Why 'tis an office of discovery, love,  
And I should be obscured.  Lor. 
So are you sweet,  
Even in the lovely garnish of a boy,  
But come at once, for the close night  
Doth play the runaway,  
And we are stayed for at bassanio's feast.  jess. 
I will make fast the doors, and gild myself  
With some more ducats, and be with you strait.  Grat. 
Now by my hood, a Gentile and no jew.  Lor. 
Beshrew me but I love her heartily,  
For she is wise, if I can judge of her,  
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true,  
And true she is, as she hath proo'ud herself,  
And therefore like herself, wise, fair and true,  
Shall she be placed in my constant soul.  Enter Jessica. 
What, art thou come? on gentlemen, away,  
Our masking mates by this time for us stay.  Exit. Enter Anthonio. Ant. 
Who's there?  Gra. 
signor Anthonio.  Ant. 
Fie, fie Gratiano, where are all the rest?  
'tis nine a clock, our friends all stay for you,  
No mask to night, the wind is come about,  
Bassanio presently will go aboard,  
I am glad on't, I desire no more delight  
Then to be under sail, & gone to night.  Exeunt. Enter Portia with Morrocho, and both their trains. Por. 
Go, draw aside the curtains, and discover  
The several Caskets to this noble Prince:  
Now make your choice.  Mor. 
The first of gold, who this inscription bears,  
Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire.  
The second silver, which this promise carries,  
Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves.  
This third dull lead, with warning all as blunt,  
Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath.  
How shall I know if I do choose the right?  Por. 
The one of them contains my picture Prince,  
If you choose that, than I am yours withal.  Mor. 
Some God direct my judgement, let me see,  
I will survey th'inscriptions back again,  
What says this leaden Casket?  
Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath,  
Must give, for what? for lead, hazard for lead?  
This Casket threatens men that hazard all,  
Do it in hope of fair advantages:  
A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross,  
I'll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead.  
What says the silver with her virgin hue?  
Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves.  
As much as he deserves, pause there Morocho,  
And weigh thy value with an even hand,  
If thou be'st rated by thy estimation,  
Thou dost deserve enough, and yet enough  
May not extend so far as to the Lady;  
And yet to be afeard of my deserving,  
Were but a weak disabling of myself.  
As much as I deserve, why that's the Lady,  
I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes,  
In graces, and in qualities of breeding:  
But more than these, in love I do deserve.  
What if I strayed no farther, but chose here?  
Let's see once more this saying graved in gold:  
Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire:  
Why that's the Lady, all the world desires her.  
From the four corners of the earth they come  
To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing Saint.  
The Hircanion deserts, and the vasty wilds  
Of wide Arabia, are as thoroughfares now  
For Princes to come view fair Portia.  
The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head  
Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar  
To stop the foreign spirits, but they come  
As o'er a brook to see fair Portia.  
One of these three contains her heavenly picture.  
It's like that lead contains her, 'twere damnation  
To think so base a thought, it were too gross  
To rib her sere-cloth in the obscure grave,  
Or shall I think in silver she's immured,  
Being ten times under-valewed to tried gold,  
O sinful thought, never so rich a gem  
Was set in worse than gold. They have in England  
A coin that bears the figure of an angel  
Stamped in gold, but that's insculpt upon:  
But here an angel in a golden bed  
Lies all within. Deliver me the key:  
Hear do I choose, and thrive I as I may.  Por. 
There take it Prince, and if my form lie there,  
Then I am yours.  Mor. 
O hell! what have we here, a carrion death?  
Within whose empty eye there is a written scroll,  
I'll read the writing.  
All that glisters is not gold,  
Often have you heard that told,  
Many a man his life hath sold,  
But my out side to behold,  
Guilded timber do worms enfold:  
Had you been as wise as bold,  
Young in limbs, in judgement old,  
Your answer had not been inscrolde,  
Far you well, your suit is cold.  Mor. 
Cold indeed, and labour lost,  
Then farewell heat, and welcome frost:  
Portia adieu, I have too grieved a heart  
To take a tedious leave; thus losers part.  Exit. Por. 
A gentle riddance, draw the curtains, go,  
Let all of his complexion choose me so.  Exeunt. Enter Enter Salarino and Salanio. Salar. 
Why man, I saw Bassanio under sail,  
With him is Gratiano gone along;  
And in their ship I'm sure Lorenzo is not.  Salan. 
The villain Jew with outcries raised the Duke,  
Who went with him to search bassanio's ship.  Salar. 
He came too late, the ship was under sail,  
But there the Duke was given to understand,  
That in a Gondylo were seen together  
Lorenza and his armorous Jessica.  
Besides Anthonio certified the Duke,  
They were not with Bassanio in his ship.  Salan. 
I never heard a passion so confused,  
So strange, outrageous, and so variable,  
As the Dog Jew did utter in the streets,  
My daughter, O my ducats, O my daughter,  
Fled with a Christian, O my christian ducats.  
justice, the law, my ducats, and my daughter.  
A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats,  
Of double ducats, stolen from me by my daughter,  
And jewels, two stones, two rich & precious stones,  
Stolen by my daughter: justice, find the girl,  
She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats.  Salar. 
Why all the boys in Venice follow him,  
Crying his stones, his daughter, and his ducats.  Salan. 
Let good Anthonio look he keep his day,  
Or he shall pay for this.  Salar. 
Marry well remembered,  
I reasoned with a Frenchman yesterday,  
Who told me, in the narrow seas that part  
The French and English, there miscarried  
A vessel of our country richly fraught:  
I thought upon Anthonio when he told me,  
And wished in silence that it were not his.  Salan. 
You were best to tell Anthonio what you hear,  
Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him.  Salar. 
A kinder Gentleman treads not the earth,  
I saw Bassanio and Anthonio part:  
Bassanio told him he would make some speed  
Of his return: he answered, do not so,  
Slubber not business for my sake Bassanio,  
But stay the very riping of the time,  
And for the Jews bond which he hath of me,  
Let it not enter in your mind of love:  
Be merry, and employ your chiefest thoughts  
To Courtship, and such fair ostents of love,  
As shall conveniently become you there.  
And even there his eye being big with tears,  
Turning his face, he put his hand behind him;  
And with affection wondrous sensible,  
He wrung bassanio's hand, and so they parted.  Salan. 
I think he only loves the world for him:  
I prithee let us go and find him out,  
And quicken his embraced heaviness,  
With some delight or other.  Salar. 
Do we so.  Exeunt Enter Nerrissa and a servitor. Ner. 
Quick, quick, I pray thee, draw the Curtain strait,  
The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath,  
And comes to his election presently.  Enter Arragon, his train, and Portia. Por. 
Behold, there stand the Caskets Noble Prince,  
If you choose that wherein I am contained,  
Strait shall our nuptial rights be solemnized:  
But if you fail, without more speech my Lord,  
You must be gone from hence immediately.  Arra. 
I am enjoined by oath to observe three things.  
First, never to unfold to any one  
Which Casket 'twas I chose. Next, if I fail  
Of the right Casket, never in my life  
To woe a maid in way of marriage:  
Lastly, if I do fail in fortune of my choice,  
Immediately to leave you, and be gone.  Por. 
To these injunctions every one doth swear,  
That comes to hazard for my worthless self.  Arr. 
And so have I addressed me, fortune now  
To my hearts hope: Gold, silver, and base Lead.  
Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath.  
You shall look fairer ere I give or hazard.  
What says the golden Chest? ha, let me see,  
Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire.  
What many men desire, that many may be meant  
By the foole-multitude, that choose by show:  
Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach,  
Which pries not to th'interior; but like the Martlet,  
Builds in the weather on the outward wall,  
Even in the force and road of casualty.  
I will not choose what many men desire,  
Because I will not jump with common spirits,  
And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.  
Why then to thee thou silver treasure house,  
Tell me once more what title thou dost bear:  
Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.  
And well said too, for who shall go about  
To cozen Fortune, and be honourable  
Without the stamp of merit, let none presume  
To wear an undeserved dignity:  
O that estates, degrees, and offices,  
Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honour  
Were purchased by the merit of the wearer,  
How many then should cover, that stand bare?  
How many be commanded, that command?  
How much low pezantry would then be gleaned  
From the true seed of honour? And how much honour,  
Picked from the chaff and ruin of the times  
To be new varnished? well, but to my choice,  
Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.  
I will assume desert. Give me a key for this,  
And instantly unlock my fortunes here.  Por. 
Too long a pause for that which you find there.  Arrag. 
What's here, the portrait of a blinking idiot,  
Presenting me a schedule? I will read it.  
How much unlike art thou to Portia?  
How much unlike my hopes, and my deservings.  
Who chooseth me shall have as much as he deserves.  
Did I deserve no more than a fools head?  
Is that my prize? Are my deserts no better?  Por. 
To offend and judge are distinct offices,  
And of opposed Natures.  Arrag. 
What here?  He reads. 
The fire seven times tried this:  
Seven times tried that judgement is,  
That did never choose amiss.  
Some there be that shadows kiss,  
Such have but a shadows bliss:  
There be fools alive I wis,  
Silvered o'er, and so was this.  
Take what wife you will to bed,  
I will ever be your head:  
So be gone, you are sped.  
Still more fool I shall appear,  
By the time I linger here,  
With one fools head I came to woe,  
But I go away with two.  
Sweet adieu, I'll keep my oath,  
Patiently to bear my wrath.  Portia. 
Thus hath the candle singed the Moth.  
O these deliberate fools, when they do choose,  
They have their wisdom, by their wit to lose.  Ner. 
The ancient saying is no heresy,  
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.  Por. 
Come draw the curtain Nerrissa.  Enter a Messenger. Mess. 
Where is my Lady?  Por. 
Hear, what would my Lord?  Mess. 
Madam, there is a-lighted at your gate  
A young Venetian, one that comes before  
To signify th'approaching of his Lord,  
From whom he bringeth sensible regreets;  
To wit (besides commends and courteous breath)  
Gifts of rich value; yet I have not seen  
So likely an ambassador of love.  
A day in April never came so sweet,  
To show how costly Summer was at hand,  
As this fore-spurrer comes before his Lord.  Por. 
No more I pray thee, I am half afeared  
Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee,  
Thou spendst such high day wit in praising him:  
Come, come Nerrissa, for I long to see  
Quick Cupid's post that comes so mannerly.  Ner. 
Bassanio Lord, love if thy will it be.  Exit. Enter Salanio and Salarino. Salan. 
Now, what news on the Rialto?  Salar. 
Why yet it lives there unchecked, that Anthonio hath a ship of rich lading wracked on the narrow seas; the goodwin's I think they call the place, a very dangerous flat, & fatal, where the carcases of many a tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossips report be an honest woman of her word.  Salan. 
I would she were as a lying gossip in that, as ever knapped Ginger, or made her neighbours believe she wept for the death of a third husband: but it is true, without any slips of prolixity, or crossing the plain highway of talk, that the good Anthonio, the honest Anthonio, O that I had a title good enough to keep his name company.  Salar. 
Come, the full stop.  Sal. 
Ha, what sayst thou? why the end is, he hath lost a ship.  Salar. 
I would it might prove the end of his losses.  Salan. 
Let me say Amen betimes, lest the devil cross my prayer, for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew.  Enter Shylocke. 
How now Shylocke, what news among the merchants?  Shy. 
You know, none so well, none so well as you,  
Of my daughter's flight.  Salar. 
That's certain, I for my part knew the tailor  
That made the wings she flew withal.  Salan. 
And Shylocke for his own part knew the bird was fledged, and then it is the complexion of them all to leave the Dam.  Shy. 
She is damned for it.  Salar. 
That's certain, if the devil may be her judge.  Shy. 
My own flesh and blood to rebel.  Salan. 
Out upon it old carrion, rebels it at these years.  Shy. 
I say my daughter is my flesh and blood.  Salar. 
There is more difference between thy flesh and hers, then between jet and ivory: more between your bloods, than there is between red wine & Rhenish: but tell us, do you hear, whether Anthonio have had at loss a sea or no?  Shy. 
There I have another bad match, a bankrupt, a prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto, a beggar that was used to come so smug upon the Mart: let him look to his bond: he was wont to call me usurer, let him look to his bond; he was wont to lend money for a Christian curtsy, let him look to his bond.  Salar. 
Why I am sure if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his flesh, what's that good for?  Shyl. 
To bait fish withal; if it will feed nothing else it will feed my revenge: he hath disgraced me, and hindered me half a million, laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies, and what's his reason, I am a jewe. Hath nos a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands? organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food? hurt with the same weapons? Subject to the same diseases? healed by the same means? warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility, revenge? If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example, why revenge? The villainy you teach me I will execute, and it shall go hard, but I will better the instruction.  Enter a man from Anthonio. 
Gentlemen, my master Anthonio is at his house, and desires to speak with you both.  Salar. 
We have been up and down to seek him.  Enter Tubal. Salan. 
Here comes another of the Tribe, a third cannot be matched, unless the devil himself turn jew.  Exeunt Gentlemen. Shy. 
How now Tubal, what news from Genowa? hast thou found my daughter?  Tubal. 
I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot find her.  Shy. 
Why there, there, there, there, a Diamond gone cost me two thousand ducats in Frankford. The curse never fell upon our Nation till now, I never felt it till now: two thousand ducats in that, and other precious precious jewels. I would my daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels in her ear: O would she were hearst at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin. No news of them, why so: and I know not what's spent in the search: why thou loss upon loss, the thief gone with so much, and so much to find the thief, and no satisfaction, no revenge, nor no ill luck stirring but what lights on my shoulders, no sighs but of my breathing, no tears but of my shedding.  Tubal. 
Yes, other men have ill luck too, Anthonio as I heard in Genua.  Shy. 
What, what, what ill luck, ill luck?  Tubal. 
Hath an argosy cast away coming from Tripoli.  Shy. 
I thank God, I thank God, be't true? be't true?  Tubal. 
I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wrack.  Shy. 
I thank the good Tubal, good news, good news: ha ha, here in Genua.  Tubal. 
Your daughter spent in Genua, as I heard, in one night, fourscore ducats.  Shy. 
Thou stickest a dagger in me, I shall never see my gold again; fourscore ducats at a sitting! Fourscore ducats!  Tubal. 
There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my company unto Venice, that swear that he cannot choose but break.  Shy. 
I am very glad of it, i'll plague him, i'll torture him, I am glad on't.  Tubal. 
One of them showed me a ring that he had of your daughter for a Monkey.  Shy. 
Out upon her: thou torturest me Tubal, it was my turkeys, I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor. I would not have given it for a wilderness of monkeys.  Tubal. 
But Anthonio is certainly undone.  Shy. 
Nay, that's true, that's very true: go Tubal, fee me an Officer, bespeak him a fortnight before, I will have the heart of him if he forfeit. For were he out of Venice I can make what merchandise I will go: go Tubal, and meet me at our Synagogue, go good Tubal, at our Synagogue Tubal.  Exeunt Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, and all their trains. Por. 
I pray you tarry, pause a day or two  
Before you hazard: for in choosing wrong  
I lose your company, therefore forbear a while,  
There's something tells me (but it is not love)  
I would not lose you, and you know yourself,  
Hate counsels not in such a quality.  
But lest you should not understand me well,  
And yet a maiden hath no tongue, but thought,  
I would detain you here some month or two  
Before you venture for me. I could teach you  
How to choose right, but I am then forsworn,  
So will I never be, so may you miss me,  
But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin,  
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes,  
They have over looked me, and divided me,  
One half of me is yours, the other half yours,  
Mine own I would say; but if mine then yours,  
And so all yours. O these naughty times  
Puts bars between the owners and their rights.  
And so though yours, not yours (prove it so)  
Let fortune go to hell for it, not i  
I speak too long, but 'tis to poise the time,  
To eck it, and to draw out in length,  
To stay you from election.  Bass. 
Let me choose,  
For as I am, I live upon the rack.  Por. 
Upon the rack Bassanio, then confess  
What treason there is mingled with your love.  Bass. 
None but that ugly treason of mistrust,  
Which makes me fear th'enjoying of my love,  
There may as well be amity and life  
tween snow and fire, as treason and my love.  Por. 
I but I fear you speak upon the rack,  
Where men enforced do speak any thing.  Bass. 
Promise me life, and i'll confess the truth,  Por. 
Well then, confess and live.  Bass. 
Confess and love,  
Had been the very sum of my confession:  
O happy torment, when my torturer  
Doth teach me answers for deliverance:  
But let me to my fortune and the Caskets.  Portia. 
Away then, I am locked in one of them,  
If you do love me, you will find me out.  
Nerrissa and the rest, stand all aloof,  
Let music sound while he doth make his choice,  
Then if he lose, he makes a swanlike end,  
Fading in music. That the comparison  
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream  
And watery deathbed for him: he may win,  
And what is music then? Then music is  
Even as the flourish, when true subjects bow  
To a new crowned Monarch: Such it is,  
As are those dulcet sounds in break of day,  
That creep into the dreaming bridegrooms ear,  
And summon him to marriage. Now he goes  
With no less presence, but with much more love  
Then young Alcides, when he did redeem  
The virgin tribute, paid by howling Troy,  
To the sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice,  
The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives,  
With bleared visages come forth to view  
The issue of th'exploit: go Hercules,  
Live thou, I live with much more dismay  
To view the fight, than thou that makest the fray.  

A song, the whilst Bassanio comments on the Caskets to himself.  
Tell me where is fancy bred,  
Or in the heart, or in the head?  
How begot, how nourished?  
Replis, reply. It is engendered in the eye,  
With gazing fed, and fancy dies:  
In the cradle where it lies,  
Let us all ring Fancies knell.  
I'll begin it.  
Ding, dung, bell.  
All. Ding, dung, bell.   Bass. 
So may the outward shows be least themselves  
The world is still deceived with ornament.  
In Law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,  
But being seasoned with a gracious voice,  
Obscures the show of evil. In religion  
What damned error but some sober brow  
Will bless it, and approve it with a text,  
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament:  
There is no voice so simple, but assumes  
Some of virtue on his outward parts;  
How many cowards whose hearts are all as false  
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins  
The beards of Hercules, and frowning Mars,  
Who inward searched, have livers white as milk,  
And these assume but valour's excrement,  
To render them redoubted. Look on beauty,  
And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight,  
Which therein works a miracle in nature,  
Making them lightest that wear most of it:  
So are those crisped snaky golden locks  
Which maketh such wanton gambols with the wind,  
Upon supposed fairness, often known  
To be the dowry of a second head,  
The skull that bred them in the sepulchre.  
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore  
To a most dangerous sea: the beauteous scarf  
veiling an Indian beauty; In a word,  
The seeming truth which cunning times put on  
To entrap the wisest. Therefore thou gaudy gold,  
Hard fool for Midas, I will none of thee,  
Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge  
tween man and man: but thou, thou meager lead,  
Which rather threatenest than dost promise aught,  
Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence,  
And here choose I, joy be the consequence.  Por. 
How all the other passions fleet to air,  
As doubtful thoughts, and rash embraced despair:  
And shyddring fear, and greene-eyed jealousy.  
O love be moderate, allay thy ecstasy,  
In measure range thy joy, scant this excess,  
I feel too much thy blessing, make it less,  
For fear I surfeit.  Bass. 
What find I here?  
Fair Portia's counterfeit. What demi God  
Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes?  
Or whither riding on the ball's of mine  
Seem they in motion? Hear are severed lips  
Parted with sugar breath, so sweet a bar  
Should sunder such sweet friends: here in her hairs  
The painter plays the Spider, and hath woven  
A golden mesh t'entrap the hearts of men  
Faster than gnats in cobwebs, but her eyes,  
How could he see to do them? Having made one,  
Methinks it should have power to steal both his,  
And leave itself unfurnished: yet look how far  
The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow  
In underprizing it, so far this shadow  
Doth limp behind the substance. Here's the scroll,  
The continent and summary of my fortune.  
You that choose not by the view,  
Chance as fair, and choose as true:  
Since this fortune falls to you,  
Be content, and seek no new.  
If you be well pleased with this,  
And hold your fortune for your bliss,  
Turn you where your Lady is,  
And claim her with a loving kiss.  
A gentle scroll: fair Lady, by your leave,  
I come by note to give, and to receive;  
Like one of two contending in a prize,  
That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes;  
Hearing applause and universal shout,  
Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt,  
Whether those pearls of praise be his or no.  
So thrice fair Lady, stand I even so,  
As doubtful whether what I see be true,  
Until confirmed, signed, ratified by you.  Por. 
You see me Lord Bassanio where I stand,  
Such as I am; though for myself alone  
I would not be ambitious in my wish,  
To wish myself much better, yet for you,  
I would be trebled twenty times myself,  
A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times  
More rich, that only to stand high in your account,  
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,  
Exceed account: but the full sum of me  
Is sum of something; which to term in gross,  
Is an unlessoned girl, unschooled, unpractised,  
Happy in this, she is not yet so old  
But she may learn: happier than this,  
She is not bred so dull, but she can learn;  
Happiest of all, is that her gentle spirit  
Commits itself to yours, to be directed  
As from her Lord, her governor, her King.  
Myself, and what is mine, to you and yours  
Is now converted. But now I was the Lord  
Of this fair mansion, master of my servants,  
Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now,  
This house, these servants, and this same myself  
Are yours, my Lord, I give them with this ring,  
Which when you part from, lose, or give away,  
Let it presage the ruin of your love,  
And be my vantage to exclaim on you.  Bass. 
Madame, you have bereft me of all words,  
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins,  
And there is such confusion in my powers,  
As after some Oration fairly spoke  
By a beloved Prince, there doth appear  
Among the buzzing pleased multitude.  
Where every something being blended together,  
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy  
Expressed, and not expressed: but when this ring  
Parts from this finger, than parts life from hence,  
O then be bold to say Bassanio is dead.  Ner. 
My Lord and Lady, it is now our time  
That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper,  
To cry good joy, good joy my Lord and Lady.  Gra. 
My Lord Bassanio, and my gentle Lady,  
I wish you all the joy that you can wish:  
For I am sure you can wish none from me:  
And when your honours mean to solemnize  
The bargain of your faith: I do beseech you  
Even at that time I may be married to.  Bass. 
With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.  Gra. 
I thank your Lordship, you have got me one,  
My eyes my Lord, can look as swift as yours;  
You saw the Mistress, I beheld the Maid;  
You loved, I loved for intermission,  
No more pertains to me my Lord then you,  
Your fortune flood upon the Casket there,  
And so did mine too, as the matter falls:  
For wooing here until I sweat again,  
And sweeting till my very roof was dry,  
With oaths of Jove, at last, it promise last  
I got a promise of this fair one here,  
To have her love: provided that your fortune  
Achieved her Mistress.  Por. 
Is this true, Nerrissa?  Ner. 
Madam it is, so you stand pleased withal.  Bass. 
And do you Gratiano mean good faith?  Gra. 
Yes faith my Lord.  Bass. 
Our feast shall be much honoured in your marriage.  Gra. 
we'll ' play with them the first boy for a thousand ducats  Ner. 
What, and stake down?  Gra. 
No, we shall near win at that sport and stake down.  
But who comes here, Lorenzo and his infidel?  
What, and my old venetian friend, Salerio?  Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salerio a messenger from Venice. Bass 
Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither,  
If that the youth of my new interest here  
Have power to bid you welcome: by your leave  
I bid my very friends and countrymen  
Sweet Portia welcome.  Por. 
So do I my Lord, they are entirely welcome.  Lor. 
I thank your Honour, for my part my Lord,  
My purpose was not to have seen you here,  
But meeting with Salerio by the way,  
He did entreat me past all saying nay,  
To come with him along.  Sal. 
I did my Lord,  
And I have reason for it. signor Anthonio  
Commends him to you.  Bass. 
Ere Jope ope his Letter,  
I pray you tell me how my good friend doth.  Sal. 
Not sick my Lord, unless it be in mind,  
Nor well, unless in mind: his Letter there  
Will show you his estate.  He opens the Letter. Gra. 
Nerrissa, cheer you stranger, bid her welcome,  
Your hand Salerio, what's the news from Venice?  
How doth that royal Merchant, good Anthonio?  
I know he will be glad of our success,  
We are the jasons, we have won the fleece.  Sal. 
I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost.  Por. 
There are some shrewd contents in yond same paper,  
That steals the colour from bassanio's cheek,  
Some dear friend dead, else nothing in the world  
Can turn so much the constitution  
Of any constant man: what worse and worse?  
With leave Bassanio, I am half yourself,  
And I must freely have the half of any thing  
That this same paper brings you.  Bass. 
O sweet Portia,  
Hear are a few of the unpleasantst words  
That ever blotted paper. Gentle Lady,  
When I did first impart my love to you,  
I freely told you all the wealth I had  
Ran in my veins, I was a Gentleman,  
And then I told you true: and yet dear Lady,  
Rating myself at nothing, you shall see  
How much I was a Braggart, when I told you  
My state was nothing, I should then have told you  
That I was worse than nothing; for indeed  
I have engaged myself to a dear friend,  
Engaged my friend to his mere enemy  
To feed my means. Here's a Letter Lady,  
The paper as the body of my friend,  
And every word in it a gaping wound,  
Issuing life blood. But is it true Salerio?  
Hath all his ventures failed? what, not one hit,  
From Tripoli, from Mexico, and England,  
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India,  
And not one vessel scape the dreadful touch  
Of Merchant-marring rocks?  Sal. 
Not one my Lord.  
Besides, it should appear, that if he had  
The present money to discharge the Jew,  
He would not take it: never did I know  
A creature that did bear the shape of man,  
So keen and greedy to confound a man.  
He plies the Duke at morning and at night,  
And doth impeach the freedom of the state  
If they deny him justice. Twenty Merchants,  
The Duke himself, and the Magnificoes  
Of greatest port have all persuaded with him,  
But none can drive him from the envious plea  
Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond.  jessica. 
When I was with him, I have heard him swear  
To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen,  
That he would rather have Antonio's flesh,  
Then twenty times the value of the sum  
That he did owe him: and I know my Lord,  
If law, authority, and power deny not,  
It will go hard with poor Anthonio.  Por. 
Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble?  Bass. 
The dearest friend to me, the kindest man,  
The best conditioned and unwearied spirit  
In doing courtesies: and one in whom  
The ancient Roman honour more appears,  
Then any that draws breath in Italy.  Por. 
What sum owes he the Jew?  Bass. 
For me three thousand Ducats.  Por. 
What no more, pay him six thousand & deface the bond,  
Double six thousand, and then triple that,  
Before a friend of this description  
Shall lose a hair through bassanio's fault.  
First go with me to Church, and call me wife,  
And then away to Venice to your friend;  
For never shall you lie by Portia's side  
With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold  
To pay the petty debt twenty times over.  
When it is paid, bring your true friend along;  
My maid Nerrissa, and myself mean time  
Will live as maids and widows; come away,  
For you shall hence upon your wedding day.  
Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer,  
Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear.  
But let me hear the letter of your friend.  
Sweet Bassanio, My ships have all miscarried, my Creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low: my bond to the Jew is forfeit, and since in paying it, it is impossible I should live, all debts are cleared between you and I if I might but see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your pleasure; if your love do not persuade you to come, let not my Letter.  
O love! dispatch all business, and be gone.  Bass. 
Since I have your good leave to go away,  
I will make haste. But till I come again,  
No bed shall ere be guilty of my stay,  
No rest be interposer twixt us twain.  Exeunt. Enter the Jew, and Salarino, and Anthonio, and the jailor. jew 
jailor, look to him, tell not me of mercy,  
This is the fool that lent out money gratis.  
jailor, look to him.  An. 
Hear me yet good Shylocke.  jew. 
I'll have my bond, speak not against my bond:  
I have sworn an oath, that I will have my bond.  
Thou cald'st me dog before thou hadst a cause,  
But since I am a dog, beware my fangs.  
The Duke shall grant me justice: I do wonder  
Thou naughty jailor that thou art so fond  
To come abroad with him at his request.  An. 
I prithee hear me speak.  jew. 
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 eyed 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 jew. Sol. 
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 delivered from his forfeitures  
Many that have at times made moan to me,  
Therefore he hates me.  Sal. 
I am sure the Duke will never grant  
This forfeiture to hold.  An. 
The Duke cannot deny the course of Law:  
For the commodity that strangers have  
With us in Venice, if it be denied,  
Will much impeach the justice of his 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 jailor on, pray God Bassanio come  
To see me pay his debt, and then I care not.  Exeunt. Enter Portia, Nerrissa, Lorenzo, Jessica, and a man of Portia's. Lor. 
Madam, although I speak it in your presence,  
You have a noble and a true conceit  
Of godlike 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,  
Then customary bounty 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 Anthonio  
(Being the bosome-lover of my Lord)  
●t Must needs be like my Lord, If it be so,  
How little is the cost I have bestowed  
In purchasing the semblance of my soul,  
From out the state of hellish misery.  
This comes too near the praising of myself,  
Therefore no more of it: here other things  
Lorenzo I commit into your hands,  
The husbandry and manage of my house,  
Until my Lords return. For mine own part,  
I have toward heaven breathed a secret vow,  
To live in prayer and contemplation,  
Only attended by Nerrissa here,  
Until her husband, and my Lords return.  
There is a Monastery two miles off,  
And there will we abide. I do desire you,  
Not to deny this imposition,  
The which my love, and some necessity  
Now lays upon you.  Lor. 
Madame, 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.  
And so farewell till we shall meet again.  Lor. 
Fair thoughts & happy hours attend on you.  jes. 
I wish your ladyship all hearts content.  Por. 
I thank you for your wish, and am well pleased  
To wish it back on you: farewell Jessica.  Exeunt. 
Now Balthaser, as I have ever found thee honest true,  
So let me find thee still: Take this same Letter,  
And use thou all th'endeavour of a man  
In speed to Mantua; see thou render this  
Into my cousin's hands, Doctor Belario,  
And look what notes and garments he doth give thee,  
Bring them I pray thee with imagined 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.  Bai. 
Madam, I go with all convenient speed.  Exit. Por. 
Come on Nerrissa, 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 Nerrissa: but in such a habit,  
That they shall think we are accomplished  
With that we lack. I'll hold thee any wager,  
When we are both apparelled 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 manly stride; and speak of frays  
Like a fine bragging youth; and tell acquaint lies,  
How honourable Ladies sought my love,  
Which I denying, they fell sick and died:  
I could not do withal. Then i'll repent,  
And wish for all that, that I had not killed them;  
And twenty of these puny lies i'll tell,  
That men shall swore 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. 
Fie, 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 hast away,  
For we must measure twenty miles to day.  Exeunt Enter clown and Jessica. Clo. 
Yes truly, for look you, the sins of the Father are to be laid upon the children, therefore I promise ye I sear you, I was always plain with you, and so now I speak my agitation of the matter: therefore be a good cheer, for truly I think you are damned, 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?  Clo. 
Marry you may partly hope that your Father got you not, that you are not the Jews daughter.  jessi. 
That were a kind of bastard hope indeed, so the sins of my mother should be visited upon me.  Clo. 
Truly then I fear you are damned both by Father and Mother: thus when I shun Scylla your father, I fall into Charibdie your mother; well, you are gone both ways.  jes. 
I shall be saved by my husband, he hath made me a christian.  Clo. 
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 Porke-eaters, we shall not shortly have a rasher on the coals for money.  Enter Lorenzo. jes. 
I'll tell my husband Lancelet what you say, here he comes.  Lor. 
I shall grow jealous of you shortly Lancelet, if you thus get my wife into corners.  jes. 
Nay, you need not fear us Lorenzo, Launcelet and I are out; he tells me flatly, there's no mercy for me in heaven, because I am a Jews daughter: and he says you are no good member of the commonwealth, for in converting jews to Christians, you raise the price of pork.  Lor. 
I shall answer that better to the commonwealth than you can the getting up of the negroes belly; the moor's with child by you Lancelet?  Clown. 
It is much that the Moor should be more than reason: but if she be less than an honest woman, she 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 discourse grow commendable in none only but parrots. Go in sirrah, bid them prepare for dinner?  Clow. 
That is done sir, they have all stomachs.  Lor. 
Goodly Lord what a wit-snapper are you: then bid them prepare dinner.  Clo. 
That's done to sir, only cover is the word.  Lor. 
Will you cover than sir?  Clo. 
Not so sir neither, I know my duty.  Lor. 
Yet more quarreling with occasion, wilt thou show the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant? I pray thee understand a plain man in his plain meaning: go to thy fellows, bid them cover the table, serve in the meat, and we will come in to dinner.  Clo. 
For the table sir, it shall be served in, for the meat sir it shall be covered, for your coming in to dinner sir, why let it be as humours and conceits shall govern.  Exit clown. Lor. 
O dear discretion, how his words are suited,  
The fool hath planted in his memory  
An army of good words, and I do know  
A many fools that stand in better place,  
Garnished like him, that for a tricksy word  
Defy the matter: how farest thou Jessica?  
And now good sweet say thy opinion,  
How dost thou like the Lord bassanio's wife?  jes. 
Past all expressing, it is very meet  
The Lord Bassanio live an upright life,  
For having such a blessing in his Lady.  
He finds the joys of heaven here on earth,  
And if on earth he do not mean it, then  
In reason he should never come to heaven.  
Why, if two Gods should play some heavenly match,  
And on the wager lay two earthly women,  
And Portia one: there must be something else  
Pawned with the other; for the poor rude world  
Hath not her fellow.  Lor. 
Even such a husband hast thou of me,  
As she is for wife.  jes. 
Nay, but ask my opinion to of that.  Lor. 
I will anon, first let us go to dinner.  jes. 
Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach.  Lor. 
No prithee, let it serve for table talk,  
Then howsoe'er thou speak'st 'mong other things,  
I shall digest it.  jes. 
Well, i'll set you forth.  Exit. Enter the Duke, the Magnificos, Anthonio, Bassanio, and Gratiano. Duke. 
What, is Anthonio here?  An. 
Ready, so please your Grace.  Duke. 
I am sorry for thee, thou art come to answer  
A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch,  
Vncapeable of pity, void and empty  
From any dram of mercy.  An. 
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  
Out of his envies reach, I do oppose  
My patience to his fury, and am armed  
To suffer with a quietness 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 Shylocke. Du. 
Make room, and let him stand before our face.  
Shylocke the world thinks, and I think so to,  
That thou but leadest this fashion of thy malice  
To the last hour of act, and then 'tis thought  
Thou'lt show thy mercy and remorse more strange,  
Then is thy strange apparent cruelty:  
And where thou now exacts the penalty,  
(Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh)  
Thou wilt not only lose the forfeiture,  
But touched 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,  
Enough to press a royal Merchant down,  
And pluck commiseration of his state  
From brassy bosoms, and rough hearts of flint,  
From stubborn Turks, and Tartars never trained  
To offices of tender courtesy;  
We all expect a gentle answer jew.  jew. 
I have possessed 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 cities freedom.  
You'll ask me why I rather choose to have  
A weight of carrion flesh, then to receive  
Three thousand Ducats? I'll not answer that,  
But say it is my humour, is it answered?  
What if my house be troubled with a Rat,  
And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats  
To have it baind? what, are you answered yet?  
Some men there are love not a gaping pig:  
Some that are mad if they behold a Cat:  
And others when the Bagpipe sings i'th' nose,  
Cannot contain their urine for affection.  
Masters of passion sways it to the mood  
Of what it likes or loathes: now for your answer.  
As there is no firm reason to be rendered,  
Why he cannot abide a gaping pig?  
Why he a harmless necessary Cat?  
Why he a woollen Bagpipe; but of force  
Must yield to such inevitable shame,  
As to offend, himself being offended:  
So can I give no reason, nor I will not,  
More than a lodged hate, and a certain loathing  
I bear Anthonio, that I follow thus  
A losing suit against him, are you answered?  Bass. 
This is no answer, thou unfeeling man,  
To excuse the currant 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 bleak for the lamb:  
You may as well forbidden the mountain of 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:  
His Jewish heart? therefore I do beseech you  
Make no more offers, use no farther means,  
But with all brief and plain conveniency  
Let me have judgement, and the Jew his will.  Bass. 
For thy three thousand ducats here is six.  jew. 
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.  Du. 
How shalt thou hope for mercy, tendering none?  jew. 
What judgement shall I dread, doing no wrong?  
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?  
Why sweat they under burdens, let their beds  
Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates  
Be seasoned with such viands; you will answer,  
The slaves are ours, so do I answer you;  
The pound of flesh which I demand of him,  
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 judgement, answer, shall I have it?  Duke. 
Upon my power I may dismiss this Court,  
Unless Bellario a learned Doctor,  
Whom I have sent for to determine this,  
Come here to day.  Saler. 
My Lord, here stays without,  
A messenger with letters from the Doctor,  
New come from Padua.  Duke. 
Bring us the Letters, call the Messenger.  Bass. 
Good cheer Anthonio, what man, courage yet:  
The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones and all,  
Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood.  Antho. 
I am a tainted weather of the flock,  
Meetest for death, the weakest kind of fruit  
Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me;  
You cannot better be employed Bassanio,  
Then to live still and write mine Epitaph.  Enter Nerrissa. Duke. 
Came you from Padua from Bellario?  Ner. 
From both, my L. Bellario greets your grace.  Bass. 
Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?  jew. 
To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there  Gra. 
Not on thy soul: but on thy soul harsh Jew  
Thou makest thy knife keen: but no metal can,  
No, not the hangman's axe bear half the keenenesse  
Of thy sharp envy: can no prayers pierce thee?  jew. 
No, none that thou hast wit enough to make.  Gra. 
O be thou damned, inexecrable dog,  
And for thy life let justice be accused;  
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  
Governed a wolf, who hanged for human slaughter,  
Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet,  
And whilst thou layest in thy unhallowed dam,  
Infused itself in thee: for thy desires  
Are wolvish, bloody, starved and ravenous.  jew. 
Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond,  
Thou but offendest 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:  
Where is he?  Ner. 
He attendeth here hard by,  
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,  
Mean time the Court shall hear Bellarios Letter.  
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 Balthazer: I acquainted him with the cause in controversy between the Jew and Anthonio the Merchant; we turned over many books together, he 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 leave him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his commendation.  Enter Portia for Balthazer. Duke. 
You hear the learned Bellario what he writes,  
And here I take it is the Doctor come.  
Give me your hand, 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 thoroughly of the cause:  
Which is the Merchant here? and which the Jew?  Duke. 
Anthonio and old Shylocke, both stand forth.  Por. 
Is your name Shylocke?  jew. 
Shylocke is my name.  Por. 
Of a strange nature is the suit you follow,  
Yet in such rule, that the Venetian law  
Cannot impunge you as you do proceed.  
You stand within his danger, do ye not?  Ant. 
I so he says.  Por. 
Do you confess the bond?  Ant. 
I do.  Por. 
Then must the Jew be merciful.  Shy. 
On what compulsion must I, tell me that.  Por. 
The quality of mercy is not strained,  
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven  
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blessed,  
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes,  
'tis mightiest in the mightiest, it becomes  
The throned Monarch better than his crown.  
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,  
It is an attribute to God himself;  
And earthly power doth then show lik'st Gods,  
When mercy seasons justice: therefore Jew,  
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,  
That in the course of justice, none of us  
Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy,  
And that same prayer, doth teach us all to render  
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much  
To mitigate the justice of thy plea,  
Which if thou follow, this strict Court of Venice  
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the Merchant there,  Shy. 
My deeds upon my head, I crave the law,  
The penalty and forfeit of my bond.  Por. 
Is he not able to discharge the money?  Bass. 
Yes, here I tender it for him in the Court,  
Yea twice the sum, if that will not suffice,  
I will be bound to pay it ten times over,  
On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart:  
If this will not suffice, it must appear  
That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you  
Wrist once the Law to your authority,  
To do a great tied, do a little wrong,  
And curbs this cruel devil of his will.  Por. 
It must not be, there is no power in Venice  
Can alter a Decree established:  
'twill be recorded for a precedent,  
And many an error by the same example,  
Will rush into the state, it cannot be.  Shy. 
A Daniel come to judgement: yea a Daniel.  
O wise young judge, how I do honour thee.  Por. 
I pray you let me look upon the bond.  Shy. 
Hear 'tis most reverend Doctor, here it is.  Por. 
Shylocke, there's thrice thy money offered thee.  Shy. 
An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven,  
Shall I lay perjury upon my soul?  
No, not for Venice.  Por. 
Why this bond is forfeit,  
And lawfully by this the Jew may claim  
A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off  
Nearest the merchant's heart; be merciful,  
Take thrice thy money, bid me tear the bond.  Shy. 
When it is paid, according to the tenor,  
It doth appear you are a worthy judge,  
You know the Law, your exposition  
Hath been most sound: I charge you by the Law,  
Whereof you are a well deserving Pillar,  
Proceed to judgement: by my soul I swear,  
There is no power in the tongue of man  
To alter me, I stay here on my bond.  Ant. 
Most hearty I do beseech the Court  
To give the judgement.  Por. 
Why then thus it is,  
You must prepare your bosom for his knife.  Shy. 
O noble judge, O excellent young man.  Por. 
For the intent and purpose of the Law,  
Hath full relation to the penalty.  
Which here appeareth due upon the bond.  Shy. 
'tis very true: O wise and upright judge,  
How much more elder art thou then thy looks.  Por. 
Therefore lay bare your bosom.  Shy. 
I, his breast,  
So says the bond, doth it not noble judge?  
Nearest his heart, those are the very words.  Por. 
It is so, are there balance here to weigh the flesh?  Shy. 
I have them ready.  Por. 
Have by some Surgeon Shylocke on your charge,  
To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death.  Shy. 
Is it so nominated in the bond?  Por. 
It is not so expressed, but what of that?  
'ttwere good you do so much for charity.  Shy. 
I cannot find it, 'tis not in the bond.  Por. 
You Merchant, have you any thing to say?  Ant. 
But little; I am armed and well prepared,  
Give me your hand Bassanio, far you well,  
Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you:  
For herein Fortune shows herself more kind  
Than is her custom: it is still her use  
To let the wretched man outlive his wealth,  
To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow,  
An age of poverty: from which lingering penance  
Of such misery doth she cut me off.  
Commend me to your honourable wife,  
Tell her the process of Antonio's end,  
Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death,  
And when the tale is told, bid her be judge,  
Whether Bassanio had not once a love:  
Repent but you that you shall lose your friend,  
And he reputes not that he pays your debt.  
For if the Jew do cut but deep enough,  
I'll pay it presently with all my heart.  Bass. 
Anthonio, I am married to a wife,  
Which is as dear to me as life itself,  
But life itself, my wife, and all the world,  
Are not with me esteemed above thy life.  
I would lose all, I sacrifice them all  
Hear to this devil, to deliver you.  Por. 
Your wife would give you little thanks for that  
If she were by to hear you make the offer.  Gra. 
I have a wife, who I protest I love,  
I would she were in heaven, so she could  
Entreat some power to change this currish Jew,  Ner. 
'tis well you offer it behind her back,  
The wish would make else an unquiet house.  jew. 
These be the christian husbands, I have a daughter,  
Would any of the stock of Barrabas  
Had been her husband, rather than a Christian.  
We trifle time, I pray thee pursue sentence.  Por. 
A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine,  
The Court awards it, and the law doth give it.  jew. 
Most rightful judge.  Por. 
And you must cut this flesh from off his breast,  
The Law allows it, and the Court awards it.  jew. 
Most learned judge, a sentence, come prepare.  Por. 
Tarry a little, there is something else,  
This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood,  
The words expressly are a pound of flesh:  
Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh,  
But in the cutting it, if thou dost shed  
One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods  
Are by the laws of Venice, confiscate  
Unto the State of Venice.  Gra. 
O upright judge,  
Mark jew, O learned judge.  Shy. 
Is that the Law?  Por. 
Thyself shalt see the Act:  
For as thee urgest justice, be assured  
Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest.  Gra. 
O learned judge, mark Jew, a learned judge.  jew. 
I take this offer then, pay the bond thrice,  
And let the Christian go.  Bass. 
Hear is the money.  Por. 
Soft, the Jew shall have all justice, soft no hast  
He shall have nothing but the penalty.  Gra. 
O Jew, an upright judge, a learned judge.  Por. 
Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh,  
Shed thou no blood, nor cut thou less nor more,  
But just a pound of flesh: if thou cuttest more  
Or less than a just pound, be it but so much  
As makes it light or heavy in the substance,  
Or the division of the twentieth part  
Of one poor scruple; nay, if the scale do turn  
But in the estimation of a hair,  
Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate.  Gra. 
A second Daniel, a Daniel Jew,  
Now infidel I have you on the hip.  Por. 
Why doth the Jew pause, take thy forfeiture.  Shy. 
Give me my principal, and let me go.  Bass. 
I have it ready for thee, here it is.  Por. 
He hath refused it in the open Court,  
And shall have merely justice and his bond.  Gra. 
A Daniel still say I, a second Daniel,  
I thank thee Jew for teaching me that word.  Shy. 
Shall I not have barely my principal?  Por. 
Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture,  
To be so taken at thy peril jew.  Shy. 
Why then the devil give him good of it:  
I'll stay no longer here in question.  Por. 
Tarry Jew,  
The Law hath yet another hold on you.  
It is enacted in the laws of Venice,  
If it be proved against any alien,  
That by direct, or indirect attempts,  
He seek the life of any Citizen,  
The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive,  
Shall seize on half his goods; the other half  
Comes to the privy coster of the State,  
And the offender's life lies in the mercy  
Of the Duke only, 'gainst all other voice,  
In which predicament I say, thou stand'st:  
For it appears by manifest proceeding.  
That indirectly, and directly to  
Thou hast contrived 'gainst the very life  
Of the defendant: and thou hast incurred  
The danger formerly by me rehearsed.  
Down therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke.  Gra. 
Beg that thou Mayst have leave to hang thyself,  
And yet thy wealth being forfeit to the state,  
Thou hast not left the value of a cord,  
Therefore thou must be hanged at the state's charge.  Duke. 
That thou shalt see the difference of our spirits,  
I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it:  
For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's,  
The other half comes to the general State,  
Which humbleness may drive unto a fine.  Por. 
I for the state, not for Anthonio.  Shy. 
Nay, take my life and all, pardon not that,  
You take my house, when you do take the prop  
That doth sustain my house: you take my life  
When you do take the means whereby I live.  Por. 
What mercy can you render him, Anthonio?  Gra. 
A halter gratis, nothing else for God's sake.  An. 
So please my Lord the Duke, & all the Court,  
To quit the fine for one half of his goods,  
I am content; so he will let me have  
The other half in use, to render it  
Upon his death unto the Gentleman  
That lately stole his daughter.  
Two things provided more, that for this favour  
He presently become a Christian:  
To other, that he do record a gift  
Hear in the Court, of all he dies possessed  
Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter.  Duke. 
He shall do this, or else I do recant  
The pardon that I late pronounced here.  Por. 
Art thou contented Jew? what dost thou say?  Shy. 
I am content.  Por. 
Clerk, draw a deed of gift.  Shy. 
I pray you give me leave to go from hence,  
I am not well, send the deed after me,  
And I will sign it.  Duke. 
Get thee gone, but do it.  Gra. 
In christening shalt thou have two Godfathers,  
Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more,  
To bring thee to the gallows, not the Font.  Exit. Duke. 
Sir, I entreat you home with me dinner.  Por. 
I humbly desire your Grace of pardon,  
I must away this night toward Padua,  
And it is meet I presently set forth.  Duke. 
I am sorry that your leisure serves you not.  
Anthonio, gratify this gentleman,  
For in my mind you are much bound to him.  Exit Duke and his train. Bass. 
Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend  
Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted  
Of grievous penalties, in lieu whereof,  
Three thousand ducats due unto the Jew,  
We freely cope your courteous pains withal.  Ant. 
And stand indebted over and above  
In love and service to you evermore.  Por. 
He is well paid, that is well satisfied,  
And I delivering you, am satisfied,  
And therein do account myself well paid,  
My mind was never yet more mercenary.  
I pray you know me when we meet again,  
I wish you well, and so I take my leave.  Bass. 
Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further,  
Take some remembrance of us as a tribute,  
Not as a fee: grant me two things I pray you,  
Not to deny me, and to pardon me.  Por. 
You press me far, and therefore I will yield,  
Give me your gloves, i'll wear them for your sake,  
And for your love, i'll take this ring from you.  
Do not draw back your hand, i'll take no more,  
And you in love shall not deny me this.  Bass. 
This Ring good sir, alas it is a trifle,  
I will not shame myself to give you this.  Por. 
I will have nothing else but only this,  
And now methinks I have a mind to it.  Bass. 
There's more than this depends upon the value:  
The dearest Ring in Venice I will give you,  
And find it out by Proclamation,  
Only for this I pray you pardon me?  Por. 
I see sir you are liberal in offers,  
You taught me first to beg, and now me thinks  
You teach me how a beggar should be answered.  Bass. 
Good sir, this Ring was given me by my wife,  
And when she put it on, she made me vow,  
That I should neither sell, nor give, nor lose it.  Por. 
That excuse serves many men to save their gifts,  
And if your wife be not a mad woman,  
And know how well I have deserved the Ring,  
She would not hold out enemy for ever,  
For giving it to me: well, peace be with you.  Exeunt An. 
My Lord Bassanio, let him have the Ring,  
Let his deservings and my love withal,  
Be valued 'gainst your wives commandment.  Bass. 
Go Gratiano, run and overtake him,  
Give him the Ring, and bring him if thou canst  
Unto Antonio's house, away, make haste.  Exeunt Gratiano. 
Come you and I will thither presently,  
And in the morning early will we both  
Fly toward Belmont, come Anthonio.  Exeunt. Enter Nerrissa. Por. 
Inquire the Jews house out, give him this deed,  
And let him sign it, we'll away to night,  
And be a day before our husband's home:  
This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo.  Enter Gratiano. Gra. 
Fair sir, you are well o'erta'en,  
My Lord Bassanio upon more advice,  
Hath sent you here this Ring, and doth entreat  
Your company at dinner.  Por. 
That cannot be,  
This Ring I do accept most thankfully,  
And so I pray you tell him. Furthermore,  
I pray you show my youth old shylock's house.  Gra. 
That will I do.  Ner. 
Sir, I would speak with you.  
I'll see if I can get my husband's Ring,  
Which I did make him swear to keep for ever.  Por. 
Thou Mayst I warrant, we shall have old swearing  
That they did give the Rings away to men,  
But we'll outface them, and outswear them too,  
Away, make haste, thou knowst where I will tarry.  Ner. 
Come good sir, will you show me to this house?  Enter Lorenzo and Jessica. Lor. 
The moon shines bright.  
In such a night as this,  
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the Trees,  
And they did make no noise, in such a night,  
Troilus methinks mounted the Trojan walls,  
And sighed his soul toward the Grecian Tents  
Where Cressada lay that night.  jessica. 
In such a night  
Did Thisbie fearfully ore-trip the dew,  
And saw the lions shadow ere himself,  
And ran dismayed away.  Loren. 
In such a night.  
Stood Dido with a willow in her hand  
Upon the wild sea banks, and waft her love  
To come again to Carthage.  jessica. 
In such a night,  
Medea gathered the enchanted herbs  
That did renew old Fson.  Loren. 
In such a night  
Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew,  
And with an unthrift love did run from Venice,  
As far as Belmont.  jessica. 
In such a night  
Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well,  
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith,  
And near a true one.  Loren. 
In such a night  
Did pretty Jessica (like a little shrew)  
Slander her love, and he forgave it her.  jessica. 
I would out-night you did nobody come:  
But hark, I hear the footing of a man.  Enter a Messenger. Loren. 
Who comes so fast in silence of the night?  Messen. 
A friend.  Loren. 
A friend, what friend, your name I pray you friend.  Messen. 
Stephano is my name, and I bring word My mistress will before the break of day  
Be here at Belmont, she doth stray about  
By holy crosses where she kneels and prays  
For happy wedlocks hours.  Loren. 
Who comes with her?  Messen. 
None but a holy Hermit and her maid:  
I pray you is my Master yet returned?  Loren. 
He is not, nor we have not heard from him,  
But go we in I pray thee Jessica,  
And ceremoniously let us prepare  
Some welcome for the mistress of the house.  Enter clown. Clown. 
Sola, sola: woe ha, ho sola, sola.  Loren. 
Who calls?  Clown. 
Sola, did you see M. Lorenzo, M. Lorenzo, sola, sola.  Loren. 
Leave hollowing man, here.  Clown. 
Sola, where, where?  Loren. 
Hear.  Clown. 
Tell him there's a Post come from my Master, with his horn full of good news, my Master will be here ere morning, sweet soul.  Loren. 
Let's in, and there expect their coming,  
And yet no matter; why should we go in?  
My friend Stephano, signify I pray you  
Within the house, your mistress is at hand,  
And bring your music forth into the air.  
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank,  
Hear will we sit, and let the sounds of music  
Creep in our ears soft stillness, and the night  
Become the touches of sweet harmony:  
Sat Jessica, look how the floor of heaven  
Is thick inlaid with patents of bright gold,  
There's not the smallest orb which thou beholdest,  
But in his motion like an angel sings,  
Still quiring to the young eide Cherubins;  
Such harmony is in immortal souls,  
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay  
Doth grossly close in it, we cannot hear it.  
Come ho, and wake Diana with him a hymn,  
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress ear,  
And draw her home with music.  Music plays. jes. 
I am never merry, when I hear sweet music.  Lor. 
The reason is, your spirits are attentive:  
For, do but note a wild and wanton heard,  
Or race of youthful and unhandled Colts,  
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,  
Which is the hot condition of their blood,  
If they perchance but hear a Trumpet sound,  
Or any air of music touch their ears,  
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,  
Their savage eyes turned to a modest gaze,  
By the sweet power of music. Therefore the Poet  
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods.  
Since nought so stockish hard and full of rage,  
But music for the time doth change his nature:  
The man that hath no music in himself,  
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,  
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils,  
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,  
and his affections dark as Terebus:  
Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music.  Enter Nerrissa and Portia. Por. 
That light we see is burning in my hall:  
How far that little candle throws his beams,  
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.  Ner. 
When the moon shone we did not see the candle.  Por. 
So doth the greater glory dim the less.  
A substitute shines brightly as a King.  
Until a King be by, and then his state  
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook  
Into the main of waters: music, hark.  Ner. 
It is your music Madam of the house.  Por. 
Nothing is good I see without respect,  
Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day.  Ner. 
Silence bestows that virtue on it Madam.  Por. 
The Crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark,  
When neither is attended: and I think  
The Nightingale if she should sing by day  
When every Goose is cackling, would be thought  
No better a physician then the Wren.  
How many things by season, seasoned are  
To their right praise, and true perfection.  
Peace, how the moon sleeps with Endymion,  
And would not be awaked.  Lor. 
That is the voice,  
Or I am much deceived of Portia.  Por. 
He knows me as the blind man knows  
The cuckoo, by the bad voice.  Lor. 
Dear Lady, welcome home.  Por. 
We have been praying for our husband health,  
Which speed we hope the better for our words.  
Are they returned?  Loren. 
Madam, they are not yet:  
But there is come a Messenger before,  
To signify their coming.  Por. 
Go in Nerrissa,  
Give order to my servants, that they take  
No note at all of our being absent hence,  
Nor you Lorenzo, Jessica nor you.  Lor. 
Your husband is at hand, I hear his Trumpet,  
We are no tell-tales madam, fear you not.  Por. 
This night me thinks is but the day light sick,  
It looks a little paler, 'tis a day,  
Such as the day is when the sun is hid.  Enter Bassanio, Anthonio, Gratiano, and their followers. Bass. 
We should hold day with the Antipodes,  
If you would walk in absence of the sun.  Por. 
Let me give light, but let me not be light,  
For a light wife doth make a heavy husband,  
And never be Bassanio so for me,  
But God sort all: you're welcome home my Lord.  Bass. 
I thank you madam, give welcome to my friend,  
This is the man, this is Anthonio,  
To whom I am so infinitely bound.  Por. 
You should in all sense be much bound to him,  
For as I hear, he was much bound for you.  Ant. 
No more than I am well acquitted of.  Por. 
Sir, you are very welcome to our house,  
It must appear in other ways than words,  
Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.  Gra. 
By yonder moon I swear you do me wrong,  
Infaith I gave it to the judges clerk,  
Would he were gelt that had it for my part,  
Since you do take it (love) so much at heart.  Por. 
A quarrel ho already, what's the matter?  Gra. 
About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring  
That she did give me, whose poesy was  
For all the world like cutler's poetry  
Upon a knife, Love me, and leave me not.  Ner. 
What talk you of the poesy or the value;  
You swore to me when I did give it you,  
That you would wear it till your hour of death,  
And that it should lie with you in your grave,  
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,  
You should have been respective, and have kept it.  
Gave it a judges clerk; no God's my judge,  
The clerk will near wear hair on's face that had it.  Gra. 
He will, and if he live to be a man.  Ner. 
I, if a woman live to be a man.  Gra. 
Now by this hand I gave it to a youth,  
A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy,  
No higher than thyself, the judges clerk,  
A prating boy that begged it as a fee,  
I could not for my heart deny it him.  Por. 
You were too blame, I must be plain with you,  
To part so slightly with your wives first gift,  
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger,  
And so riveted with faith unto your flesh.  
I gave my love a ring, and made him swear  
Never to part with it, and here he stands;  
I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it,  
Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth  
That the world masters. Now in faith Gratiano,  
You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief,  
And 'ttwere to me I should be mad at it.  Bass. 
Why I were best to cut my left hand off,  
And swear I lost the Ring defending it.  Gra. 
My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away  
Unto the judge that begged it, and indeed  
Deserved it to: and then the boy his clerk  
That took some pains in writing, he begged mine,  
And neither man nor master would take aught  
But the two rings.  Por. 
What ring gave you my Lord?  
Not that I hope which you received of me.  Bass. 
If I could add a lie unto a fault,  
I would deny it: but you see my finger  
Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone.  Por. 
Even so void is your false heart of truth.  
By heaven I will near come in your bed,  
Until I see the ring.  Ner. 
Nor I in yours,  
Till I again see mine.  Bass. 
Sweet Portia,  
If you did know to whom I gave the Ring,  
If you did know for whom I gave the Ring,  
And would conceive for what I gave the Ring,  
And how unwillingly I left the Ring,  
When nought would be accepted but the Ring,  
You would abate the strength of your displeasure.  Por. 
If you had known the virtue of the Ring,  
Of half her worthiness that gave the Ring,  
Or your own honour to contain the Ring,  
You would not then have parted with the Ring.  
What man is there so much unreasonable,  
If you had pleased to have defended it  
With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty  
To urge the thing held as a ceremony?  
Nerrissa teaches me what to believe,  
I'll die for't, but some woman had the Ring.  Bass. 
No by my honour Madam, by my soul  
No woman had it, but a civil Doctor,  
Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me,  
And begged the Ring, the which I did deny him,  
And suffered him to go away displeased,  
Even he that did uphold the very life  
Of my dear friend. What should I say sweet Lady?  
I was enforced to send it after him:  
I was beset with shame and courtesy,  
My honour would not let ingratitude  
So much besmear it. Pardon me good Lady,  
For by these blessed Candles of the night,  
Had you been there, I think you would have begged  
The Ring of me, to give the worthy Doctor.  Por. 
Let not that Doctor ere come near my house,  
Since he hath got the jewel that I loved,  
And that which you did swear to keep for me,  
I will become as liberal as you,  
I'll not deny him any thing I have,  
No, not my body, nor my husband's bed:  
Know him I shall, I am well sure of it.  
Lie not a night from home: watch me like Argos,  
If you do not, if I be left alone,  
Now by mine honour, which is yet mine own,  
I'll have that Doctor for my bedfellow.  Ner. 
And I his clerk: therefore be well advisd  
How you do leave me to mine own protection.  Gra. 
Well do you so: let not me take him then,  
For if I do, I'll mar the young clerks pen.  An. 
I am th'unhappy subject of these quarrels.  Por. 
Sir, grieve not you, you are welcome notwithstanding.  Bass. 
Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong,  
And in the hearing of these many friends  
I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes,  
Wherein I see myself.  Por. 
Mark you but that.  
In both my eyes he doubly sees himself:  
In each eye one, swear by your double self,  
And there's an oath of credit.  Bas. 
Nay, but hear me,  
Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear,  
I never more will break an oath with thee.  An. 
I once did lend my body for his wealth,  
Which but for him that had your husband Ring,  
Had quite miscarried. I dare be bound again,  
My soul upon the forfeit, that your Lord  
Will never more break faith advisedly.  Por. 
Then you shall be his surety; give him this,  
And bid him keep it better than the other.  An. 
Hear Lord Bassanio, swear to keep this Ring.  Bas. 
By heaven it is the same I gave the Doctor.  Por. 
I had it of him; pardon me Bassanio,  
For by this ring the Doctor lay with me.  Ner. 
And pardon me my gentle Gratiano,  
For that same scrubbed boy the doctor's clerk,  
In am of this, last night did lie with me.  Gra. 
Why this is like the mending of high ways  
In summer, where the ways are fair enough.  
What, are we Cuckolds ere we have deserved it?  Por. 
Speak not so grossly, you are all amazed;  
Hear is a Letter, read it at your leisure,  
It comes from Padua from Bellario,  
There you shall find that Portia was the Doctor,  
Nerrissa there her clerk, Lorenzo here  
Shall witness I set forth as soon as you,  
And even but now returned; I have not yet  
Entered my house. Anthonio, you are welcome,  
And I have better news in store for you  
Then you expect; unseal this letter soon,  
There you shall find three of your Argosies  
Are richly come to harbour suddenly.  
You shall not know by what strange accident  
I chanced on this Letter.  Ant. 
I am dumb.  Bass. 
Were you the Doctor, and I knew you not?  Gra. 
Were you the clerk that is to make me Cuckold?  Ner. 
I, but the clerk that never means to do it,  
Unless he live until he be a man.  Bass. 
(sweet Doctor) you shall be my bedfellow,  
When I am absent, then lie with my wife.  An. 
Sweet Lady, you have given me life and living;  
For here I read for certain, that my Ships  
Are safely come to Rode.  Por. 
How now Lorenzo,  
My clerk hath some good comforts too for you.  Ner. 
I, and i'll give them him without a fee,  
There do I give to you and Jessica  
From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift  
After his death, of all he dies possessed off.  Loren. 
Fair Ladies, you drop Manna in the way  
Of starved people.  Por. 
It is almost morning,  
And yet I'm sure you are not satisfied  
Of these events at full. Let's go in,  
And charge us there upon intergotories,  
And we will answer all things faithfully.  Gra. 
Let it be so, the first intergotory  
That my Nerrissa shall be sworn on, is,  
Whether till the next night she had rather stay,  
Or go to bed now, being two hours to day:  
But were the day come, I should wish it dark,  
That I were couching with the clerk.  
Well, while I live, i'll fear no other thing  
So sore, as keeping safe nerrissa's Ring.  Exeunt. 
FINIS.