SCENE VIII.-Venice. A Street.

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 rais'd 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 gondola were seen together
Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica.

Besides, Antonio certified the duke,
They were not with Bassanio in his ship.

Salan. I never heard a passion so confus'd,
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, stol'n from me by my daughter!
And jewels! two stones, two rich and precious
stones,

Stol'n 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 Antonio look he keep his day, Or he shall pay for this.

Salar. Marry, well remember'd. I reason'd 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 Antonio when he told me, And wish'd in silence that it were not his.

Salan. You were best to tell Antonio what you

hear;

Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him.

Salar. A kinder gentleman treads not the earth. I saw Bassanio and Antonio part.

Bassanio told him, he would make some speed
Of his return: he answer'd-" Do not so;
Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio,
But stay the very riping of the time:

And for the Jew's 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 pray thee, let us go, and find him out,

Enter NERISSA, with a Servitor.

Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee; draw the cur tain straight.

The prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath,
And comes to his election presently.

Enter the Prince of Arragon, PORTIA, and ther
Trains. Flourish of cornets.

Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble princ. If you choose that wherein I am contain'd, Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemniz'd; But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, You must be gone from hence immediately.

Ar. I am enjoin'd 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 woo 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.

Ar. And so have I address'd me. Fortune now To my heart's 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

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desire."

What many men desire:—that many may be meant
By the fool 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 de-
serves;"

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 deriv'd corruptly! and that clear honour
Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer!
How many then should cover, that stand bare;
How many be commanded, that command:
How much low peasantry would then be glean'd
From the true seed of honour; and how much
honour

Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times,
To be new varnish'd! Well, but to my choice:
"Who chooseth me shall get as much as he de-
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serves.

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. Ar. What's here? the portrait of a blinking idiot. Presenting me a schedule? I will read it.

"The fire seven times tried this:
Seven times tried that judgment is,
That did never choose amiss.
Some there be that shadows kiss;
Such have but a shadow's bliss.
There be fools alive, I wis,
Silver'd o'er; and so was this.
Take what wife you will to bed,
I will ever be your head:
So begone: you are sped."
Still more fool I shall appear
By the time I linger here:

With one fool's head I came to woo,
But I go away with two.-
Sweet, adieu. I'll keep my oath,
Patiently to bear my wroth.

[Exeunt Arragon, and Train.

Por. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth. O, these deliberate fools! when they do choose, They have the wisdom by their wit to lose.

Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy :-
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
Por. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa.
Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Where is my lady?

Por.
Here; what would my lord?
Mess. Madam, there is alighted at your gate
A young Venetian, one that comes before
To signify the 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 afeard,
Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee,
Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him.-
Come, come, Nerissa; for I long to see
Quick Cupid's post, that comes so mannerly.
Ner. Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be.
[Exeunt.

22

Enter SALANIO, and SALARINO.

Salan. Now, what news on the Rialto?

Salar. Why, yet it lives there uncheck'd, that Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wreck'd on the narrow seas; the Goodwins, I think they call the place: a very dangerous flat, and fatal, where the carcasses of many a tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossip, report, be an honest woman of her word.

Salan. I would she were as lying a 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 high-way of talk, that the good Antonio, the honest Antonio,-O, that I had a title good enough to keep his name company!— Salar. Come, the full stop.

Salan. Ha!-what say'st 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 SHYLOCK.

How now, Shylock? what news among the merchants?

Shy. You knew, 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 Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was fledg'd; 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 my blood. Salar. There is more difference between thy flesh and hers, than between jet and ivory; more between your bloods, than there is between red wine and

rhenish. But tell us, do you hear whether Antonio have had any loss at 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 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 courtesy ;-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?

Shy. 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 Jew. Hath not 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 Servant.

Serv. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house, and desires to speak with you both. Salar. We have been up and down to seek him.

Salan. Here comes another of the tribe: a third cannot be matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew. [Exeunt SALAN., SALAR., and Servant.

Enter TUBAL.

Shy. How now, Tubal? what news from Genoa? hast thou found my daughter?

Tub. 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 Frankfort. 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! would she were hearsed 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 o' my shoulders; no sighs, but o' my breathing; no tears, but o' my shedding. Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too. Antonio, as I heard in Genoa,

Shy. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck? Tub. hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis.

Shy. I thank God! I thank God! Is it true? is it true?

Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wreck.

Shy. I thank thee, good Tubal.-Good news, good news! ha! ha!-Where? in Genoa?

Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, one night, fourscore ducats.

Shy. Thou stick'st a dagger in me. I shall never see my gold again. Fourscore ducats at a sitting! fourscore ducats!

Tub. There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my company to Venice, that swear he cannot

choose but break.

Shy. I am very glad of it. I'll plague him; I'll torture him: I am glad of it.

Tub. 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 turquoise; I had it of Leah, when I was a bachelor: I would not have given it for a wilderness of monkeys.

Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone.

SCENE II.-Belmont. An Apartment in PORTIA's
House.

Enter BASSANIO, PORTIA, GRATIANO, NERISSA.
and their Attendants. The caskets set out.
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 then I am 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 o'er-look'd 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
Put 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 peize the time,
To eke it, and to draw it 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. Ay, 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.
Por. Away then. I am lock'd in one of them :
If you do love me, you will find me out.—
Nerissa, and the rest, stand all aloof.--

Let music sound, while he doth make his choice;
Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end,
Fading in music: that the comparison

May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream,
And watery death-bed 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 bridegroom's ear.
And summon him to marriage. Now he goes,
With no less presence, but with much more love,
Than 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, much more dismay
I view the fight, than thou that makʼst the fray.
A Song, whilst BASSANIO comments on the caskets
to himself.

Will bless it, and approve it with a text,
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?
There is no vice so simple, but assumes
Some mark 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,