The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare

Would blow me to an ague when I thought
What harm a wind too great might do at sea.
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
But I should think of shallows and of fiats
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand,
Vailing 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 straight of dangerous rocks;
Which touching but my gentle vessel's side,
Would scatter all her spices on the stream;
Eurobe 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, bechanc'd, would make me sad ?

But, tell not me: I know, Antonio

Is sad to think upon his merchandise.

[it,

Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for 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. Salan. Why then you are in love. Ant. Fie, fie!

Salan. Not in love neither? Then let's say you are sad,

Because you are not merry: and, 'twere as easy For you to laugh, and leap, and say, you are merry, (Janus, Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Nature hath fram'd 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, LORENZO, and GRATIANO.
Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble
kinsman,

Gratiano, and Lorenzo : Fare you well;
We leave you now with better company.

And do a wilful stillness entertain,
With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;
As who should say, I am Sir Oracle,
And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!
O my Antonio, I do know of these,
That therefore only are reputed wise,
For saying nothing; who, I am very sure,
If they should speak, would almost damn those
ears,
[fools.
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers,
I'll tell thee more of this another time:
But fish not, with this melancholy bait,
For this fool's gudgeon, this opinion.-
Come, good Lorenzo :-Fare ye well, a while;
I'll end my exhortation after dinner. +

Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinnertime:

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. Ant. Farewell : gear.

I'll grow a talker for this

Gra. Thanks, i'faith; for silence only is commendable [ble. In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendi[Exeunt GRATIANO and LORENZO. Ant. Is that any thing now?

Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; you shall seek all day ere you find them; and when you have them they are not worth the search.

Ant. Well; tell me now, what lady is this

same

To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage
That you to-day promis'd to tell me of?

Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
How much I have disabled mine estate,
By something showing a more swelling port
Than my faint means would grant continuance :
Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd
From such a noble rate; but my chief care

Salar. I would have staid till I had made you | Is, to come fairly off from the great debts,

merry

If worthier friends had not prevented me.

Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. I take it, your own business calls on you, And you embrace the occasion to depart. 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 SALANIO. Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio,

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.

Gra. You look not well, signior Antonio;
You have too much respect upon the world:
They lose it, that do buy it with much care.
Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd.
Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gra.
tiano,

A stage, where every man 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 beat with wine,
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ?
Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaun.

dice

By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,-
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks ;-
There are a sort of men, whose visages
Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond;

Wherein my time, something too prodigal,
Hath left me gaged: To you, Antonio,
I owe 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.
Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know
it;

And, if it stand, as you yourself still do,
Within the eye of honour, be assur'd,
My purse, my person, my extremest means,
Lie all unlock'd to your occasions.

Bass. In my school days, when I had lost on 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 advent'ring

both,

1 oft found both: 1 urg'd this childhood proof,
Because what follows is pure innocence
I owe you much; and, like a wilful youth,
That which I owe 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,

Than 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 press'd 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 undervalued
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, Colchos'
strand,

And many Jasons come in quest of her.
O my Antonio, bad 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.

nothing but talk of his horse; and he makes it a great appropriation to his good parts, that he can shoe him himself; I am much afraid, my lady his mother played false with a smith. Palatine. Ner. Then, is there the county

Por. He doth nothing but frown; as who should say, An 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 oid, 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, than to either of these. God defend me from these

two.

Ner. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon ?

Por. God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker; But, he! why, he hath a horse better than the Neapolitan's; a better bad habit of frowning than the count Palatine: he is every

Ant. Thou know'st, that all my fortunes are man in no man: if a brostle sing, he falls

Enter PORTIA and NERISSA. Por. By my troth, Nerissa, 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 starve with nothing: It is no mean happiness therefore, to be seated in the mean; superduity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer.

Por. 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, than 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 o'er the meshes of good counsel the cripple. But this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me a husband:-O me, the word choose! I may neither choose whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curb'd by the will of a dead father-Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none ?

Ner. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men, at their death, have good inspirations; therefore the lottery that he hath devised in these three chests, of gold, silver, and lead, (whereof who chooses his meaning, chooses you,) will, no doubt, never be chosen by any rightly, but one who you shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these princely suitors that are already come?

Por. I pray thee overname them; and as thou namest them, I will describe them: and, according to my description, level at my affection.

Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince.
Por. Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth

straight a capering: 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 Faulconbridge, the young baron of England?

Por. You know, say nothing to him; for he understands not me, nor 1 him he hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian; and you will come into the court and swear, that I have a poor penny-worth in the English. He is a proper man's picture; But, alas! who can converse with a dumb show? How oddly he is suited! I think, he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour every where.

Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour?

Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him; for he borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman, and swore he would pay him again, when he was able; I think the Frenchman became his surety, and sealed under for an

other.

Ner. How like you the young German, the duke of Saxony's nephew?

Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober; and most vilely in the afternoon, when he is drunk: when he is best, he is little worse than a man; and when he is worst, he is little better than a beast; an 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 pray thee set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary casket: for, if the devil be within, and that temptation without, I know he will choose it. I will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I will be married to a sponge.

Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of these lords; they have acquainted me with their determination: 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 thau your father's imposition, depending on the caskets.

Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla I will die as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner of my father's will: I am glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonable; for there is not one among them but I dote on his very absence, and I pray God grant them a fair departure.

Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a sol

• Count.

I. e. If the worst happen that over, &e

dier, that came hither in company of the marquis of Montferrat ?

Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think so was he 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 SERVANT.

Serv. The four strangers, seek for you, madam, to take their leave and there is a forerunner come from a fifth, the prince of Mo. rocco; who brings word the prince, his master, will be bere to-night.

Even there where merchants most do congre-
gate,

On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift,
Which he calls interest: Cursed be my tribe,
If I forgive him!

Bass. Shylock, 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 signior;
[To ANTONIO,
Your worship was the last man in our mouths.
Ant. Shylock, albeit, I neither leud nor bor-
row,

Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so By taking nor by giving of excess, good a heart as I can bid the other four fare- Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, well, I should be glad of his approach: if he'll break a custom :-Is he yet posscss'd, f have the condition of a saint, and the com- How much you would? plexion of a devil, I had rather he should shrive me, than wive me. Come, Nerissa.-Sirrah, go before. Whiles we shut the gate upon one wooer, another knocks at the door. [Exeunt.

SCENE III-Venice.-A public Place.

Enter BASSANIO and SHYLOCK.
Shy. Three thousand ducats,-well.
Buss. Ay, Sir, for three months.
Shy. For three months,-well.

Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound.

Shy. Antonio 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 Antonio bound.

Bass. Your answer to that.

Shy. Antonio is a good man.

Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary?

Shy. Ay, ay, 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
Upon advantage.
[borrow,

Ant. I do never use it.

Shy. When Jacob graz'd his uncle Laban's

sheep,

This Jacob from our holy Abraham was
(As his wise mother wrought in his behalf,)
The third possessor; ay, he was the third.

Ant. And what of him? did he take interest?
Shy. No, not take interest; not, as you would
say,
Directly interest: mark what Jacob did.
When Laban and himself were compromis'd,
That all the eaulings which were streak'd and
pied,
Should fall as Jacob's hire; the ewes, being rank,
In the end of autumn turned to the rams;

Shy. Ho, no, no, no, no ;-my meaning, in say. And when the work of generation was
ing he is a good man, is to have you under-Between these woolly breeders in the act,
stand me, that he is sufficient: yet his means
are in supposition: he hath an argosy bound to
Tripolis, another to the Indies; I understand
moreover upon the Rialto, he hath a third at
Mexico, a fourth for England,--and other
ventures he hath, squander'd 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.

The skilful shepherd peel'd me certain wands,
And, in the doing of the deed of kind,
He stu: them up before the fulsome ewes;
Who, then conceiving, did in eauing time
Fall party-colour'd lambs, and those were

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 Antonio ?

Bass. If it please you to dine with us.

Shy. Yes, to smell pork; to eat of the habitation which your prophet, the Nazarite, conjured the devil into I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so following; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with you. What news on the Rialto ?-Who is he comes here ?

Jacob's.

This was a way to thrive, and he was blest;
And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not.

Ant. This was a venture, Sir, that Jacob
serv'd for;

A thing not in his power to bring to pass,
But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heaven,
Was this inserted to make interest good!
Or is your gold and silver, ewes and ranis?

Shy. I cannot tell; I make it breed as
fast:-

But note me, signior.

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;
Oh! what a goodly outside falsehood bath!

Shy. Three thousand ducats,-'tis a good

round sum.

Three months from twelve, then let me see the
rate.

Ant. Well,Shylock, shall we be beholden to you,
Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time, and oft,
In the Rialto you have rated me
About my monies and my usances: 5
Still have I borne it with a patient 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.

• Wants which admit no longer delay.
Informed.
1 Nature.

Interest.

Well then, it now appears, you need my help:
Go to then you come to me, and you say,
Shylock, we would have monies: You say so;
You, that did void your rheuin upon my beard,
And foot me, as you spura a stranger cur
Over your threshold; monies 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,

ACT II.

SCENE 1.-Belmont.-A Room in PORTIA'S

House.

Flourish of Cornets. Enter the PRINCE OF
MOROCCO and his Train; PORTIA, NERISSA,
und other of her Attendants.

Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion,
The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun,

With 'bated breath, and whispering humble-To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred.

You spurn'd me such a day; another time
You call'd me-dog; and for these courtesies
I'll lend you thus much monies.

Ant. I am as like to call thee so again,
To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too.
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not
As to shy 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 may'st 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 stain'd me
with,

Supply your present wants, and take no doit
of usance for my monies, and you'll not hear

me:

This is kind I offer.

Ant. 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
Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit
Be nominated for an equal pound

Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken

Ju what part of your body pleaseth me.

Bring me the fairest creature northward born,
Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles,
And let us make incision for your love,
To prove whose blood is reddest, his, or mine.
I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine
Hath fear'd the valiant; by my love, I swear
The best-regarded virgins of our clime
Have lov'd 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 maiden's eyes:
Besides the lottery of my destiny

Bars me the right of voluntary choosing:
But, if my father had not scanted me,
And hedg'd me by his wit, to yield myself
His wife, who wins me by that means I told you,
Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair,
As any comer I have look'd on yet,
For my affection.

Mor. Even for that I thank you :
Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets,
To try my fortune. By this scimitar,-
That slew the Sophy, and a Persian prince,
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,-
I would out-stare the sternest eyes that look,
Out-brave the heart most daring on the earth,
Pluck the young suckling cubs from the she

bear,

Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey,
To win thee, 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 page ;

And so may I, blind fortune leading me,

Ant. Content, in faith; I'll seal to such a Miss that which one unworthier may attain,

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, beefs, 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, Shylock, I will seal unto this

bond.

Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's;
Give him direction for this merry bond,
And I will go and purse the ducats straight;
See to my house, left in the fearful guard
Of an unthrifty knave; and presently
I will be with you.

And die with grieving.

Por. You must take your chance;
And either not attempt to choose at all,

Or swear, before you choose, if you choose

Laun. 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, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot, or good Gobbo, or good Launcelot Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away: My conscience says,-no; take heed, honest Launcelot; take heed, honest Gobbo; or, as aforesaid, honest Launcelot Gobbo; do not run; scorn running with thy heels: Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack; via! says the fiend; away! says the fiend, for the heavens; rouse up a brave mind, says the fiend, and run. Well, my conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, says very wisely to me, my honest friend Launcelot, being an honest man's son, Ant. Come on in this there can be no dis--or rather an honest woman's son ;-for, indeed, may, my father did something stack, something grow

[Exit.

Ant. Hie thee, gentle Jew. This Hebrew will turn Christian; he grows kind.

Bass. I like not fair terms, and a villain's mind.

My ships coine home a mouth before the day.

[Exeunt.

• Red blood is a traditionary sign of ove affrighted.

Act II

sure, Margery, your wife, is my mother.
sworn, if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own
Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed: I'll be
flesh and blood.
what a beard hast thou got! thou hast got more
hair on thy chin, than Dobbin my thill-horse⚫
Lord worshipp'd might he be !
has on his tail.

to, he had a kind of taste; well, my conscience, but I am Launcelot, the Jew's man ; and, I am
says, Launcelot, budge not; budge, says the
fiend; budge not, says my conscience: Consci
ence, says I, you counsel well; fiend, says I, you
counsel well to be ruled by my conscience, I
should stay with the Jew my master, who, (God
bless the mark!) is a kind of devil; and to run
away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the
fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the devil
himself; Certainly, the Jew is the very devil
incarnation; and, in my conscience, my con-
science 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 commandment,
will run.

Enter old GoBBO, with a Rasket.
Gob. Master, young man, you, I pray you;
which is the way to master Jew's?

Laun. [Aside.] O heavens, this is my true be-
gotten father! who, being more than sand-blind,
high-gravel blind, knows me not :-I will try con-
clusions with him.

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

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

Gob. By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit. Can you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, dwell with him, or no? Laun. Talk you of young master Launcelot?-Mark me now; [aside.] now will I raise the waters-Talk you of young master Launcelot ?

Glo. 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.

Laun. Well, let his father be what he will, we talk of young master Launcelot.

Gob. Your worship's friend, and Launcelot, Sir.

Laun. But I pray you ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you; Talk you of young master Launcelot?

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

Laun. Ergo, master Launcelot; talk not of master Launcelot, father; for the young gentleman (acccording to fates and destinies, and such odd saying, the sisters three, and such branches of learning,) is, indeed, deceased; or, as you would say, in plain terms, gone to heaven. Gob. Marry, God forbid! the boy was the very staff of my age, ny very prop.

Laun. Do I look like a cudgel, or a hovelpost, a staff, or a prop ?-Do you know me, father?

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

Laun. Do you not know me, father?
Gob. Alack, Sir, I am sand-blind, I know you

not.

Laun. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might fail of the knowing me: it is a wise father, that knows his own child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son: Give me your blessing truth will come to light; murder cannot be hid long, a man's son may; but, in the end, truth will out.

Gob. Pray you, Sir, stand up; I am sure, you are not Launcelot, my boy.

Laun. Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but give me your blessing; I am Launcelot, your boy that was, your son that is, your child that shall be.

grows backward; I am sure he had more hair on Laun. It should seem then, that Dobbin's tail his tail, than I have on my face, when I lust saw him.

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

Laun. Well, well; but, for mine own part, as I have set up my rest to run away, so I will not very Jew: Give him a present! give him a halrest till I have run some ground: my master's a every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am ter: I am famish'd in his service; you may tell glad you are come: give me your present to one master Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare new God has any ground.-O rare fortune! here comes liveries if I serve not him, I will run as far as serve the Jew any longer. the man ;-to him, father; for I am a Jew if I

Enter BASSANIO, with LEONARDO, and other

Followers.

that supper be ready at the farthest by five of the
Bass. You may do so :-but let it be so hasted,
clock: See these letters deliver'd; put the liveries
to making; and desire Gratiano to come anon to
my lodging.
[Exit a Servant.

Laun. To him, father.

Gob. God bless your worship!
Bass. Gramercy; would'st thou aught with

me?

Gob. Here's my son, Sir, a poor boy,——

Laun. Not a poor boy, Sir, but the rich Jew's
cify,
man; that would, Sir, as my father shall spe

would say, to serve--
Gob. He hath a great infection, Sir, as one

serve the Jew, and I have a desire, as my father
Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I
shall specify-

ship's reverence,) are scarce cater-cousins:
Gob. His master and he, (saving your wor-

Jew, having done me wrong, doth cause me, as
Laun. To be brief, the very truth is, that the
my father, being I hope an old man, shall frutify
unto you,——

would bestow upon your worship; and my suit Gob. I have here a dish of doves, that I is,-

Laun. In very brief, the suit is impertinent to old man; and, though I say it, though old man, yet, poor man, my father. myself, as your worship shall know by this honest

Bass. One speak for both :-What would you?

Lann. Serve you, Sir.

Gob. This is the very defect of the matter, Sir.
Bass. I know thee well, thou hast obtain'd thy

suit :

And hath preferr'd thee, if it be preferment,
Shylock, thy master, spoke with me this day,
To leave a rich Jew's service, to become
The follower of so poor a gentleman.

between my master Shylock and you, Sir; you
Laun. The old proverb is very well parted
have the grace of God, Sir, and he hath enough.
Bass. Thou speak'st it well: Go, father, with
My lodging out :-Give him a livery
tby son:-
Take leave of thy old master, and inquire

More guarded + than his fellows': See it done.
[To his Followers.
Laun. Father, in:-1 cannot get a service,
no;-I have ne'er a tongue in my head.-Well ;

Gob. I cannot think, you are my son.
Laun. I know not what I shall think of that: Looking on his palm.] if any man in Italy bave

• Experiments.

Shaft-horse

† Ornamented.

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The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare, Volume 10