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For you to laugh, and leap, and say, you are merry, Ant. Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear. Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Gra. Thanks, i’ faith; for silence is only comJanus,

mendable Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time: In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,

[Exeunt GRATIANO and LORENZO. And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper;

Ant. Is that any thing now? And other of such vinegar aspect,

Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, more than any man in all Venice. His reasons Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels

of chaff: you shall seek all day ere you find them; Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and Gratiano.

and when you have them, they are not worth the Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble search. kinsman,

Ant. Well; tell me now, what lady is the same Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare you well :

To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, We leave you now with better company.

That you to-day promis'd to tell me of? Salar. I would have stay'd till I had made you Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, merry,

How much I have disabled mine estate, If worthier friends had not prevented me.

By something showing a more swelling port Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. Than my faint means would grant continuance: I take it, your own business calls on you,

Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd And you embrace the occasion to depart.

From such a noble rate; but my chief care Salar. Good morrow, my good lords.

Is to come fairly off from the great debts, Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh ? Wherein my time, something too prodigal, Say, when?

Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio, You grow exceeding strange: must it be so ? I owe the most, jn money, and in love; Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. And from your love I have a warranty

(Exeunt SalARINO and Salanio. To unburthen all my plots and purposes, Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found How to get clear of all the debts I owe. Antonio,

Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it ;
We two will leave you; but at dinner-time, And if it stand, as you yourself still do,
I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. Within the eye of honour, be assur'd,
Bass. I will not fail you.

My purse, my person, my extremest means,
Gra. You look not well, signior Antonio ; Lie all unlock'd to your occasions.
You have too much respect upon the world :

Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one They lose it, that do buy it with much care.

shaft, Believe me, you are marvellously chang’d.

I shot his fellow of the self-same flight Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; The self-same way with more advised watch, A stage, where every man must play a part, To find the other forth; and by adventuring both, And mine a sad one.

I oft found both. I urge this childhood proof, Gra.

Let me play the fool : Because what follows is pure innocence. With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come, I owe you much, and, like a wilful youth, And let my liver rather heat with wine,

That which I owe is lost; but if you pleaso Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.

To shoot another arrow that self way
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ?

As I will watch the aim, or to find both,
Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice Or bring your latter hazard back again,
By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio, - And thankfully rest debtor for the first.
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks ;-

Ant. You know me well, and herein spend but There are a sort of men, whose visages

time, Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond,

To wind about my love with circumstance; And do a wilful stillness entertain,

And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong, With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion

In making question of my uttermost, Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;

Than if you had made waste of all I have : As who should say, “ I am Sir Oracle,

Then, do but say to me what I should do, And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark !"

That in your knowledge may by me be done 0! my Antonio, I do know of these,

And I am prest unto it: therefore, speak. That therefore only are reputed wise,

Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left, For saying nothing; when, I am very sure, And she is fair, and, fairer than that word, If they should speak, would almost damn those ears, Of wondrous virtues : sometimes from her eyes Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. I did receive fair speechless messages. I'll tell thee more of this another time :

Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalued But fish not, with this melancholy bait,

To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia. For this fool-gudgeon, this opinion.

Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth, Come, good Lorenzo.-Fare ye well, awhile : For the four winds blow in from every coast I'll end my exhortation after dinner.

Renowned suitors; and her sunny locks Lor. Well, we will leave you, then, till dinner Hang on her temples like a golden Heece ; time.

Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strand, I must be one of these same dumb wise men, And

many Jasons come in quest of her. For Gratiano never lets me speak.

O, my Antonio! had I but the means Gra. Well, keep me company but two years more, To hold a rival place with one of them, Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. I have a mind presages mo such thrift,

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Scene II.—Belmont. An Apartment in Portia's chests of gold, silver, and lead, (whereof who chooses House.

his meaning, chooses you,) will, no doubt, never Enter Portia and NERISSA.

be chosen by any rightly, but one whom you shall

rightly love. But what warmth is there in your Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is affection towards any of these princely suitors that aweary of this great world.

are already come? Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your mise Por. I pray thee, over-name them, and as thou ries were in the same abundance as your good for namest them, I will describe them; and, according tunes are. And, yet, for aught I see, they are as to my description, level at my affection. sick, that surfeit with too much, as they that starve Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. with nothing: it is no mean happiness, therefore, Por. Ay, that's a colt, indeed, for he doth nothing to be seated in the mean: superfluity comes sooner but talk of his horse ; and he makes it a great apby white

hairs, but competency lives longer. propriation to his own good parts, that he can shoe Por. Good sentences, and well pronounced. him himself. I am much afraid, my lady his Ner. They would be better, if well followed. mother played false with a smith.

Por. If to do were as easy as to know what were Ner. Then, is there the county Palatine. good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor Por. He doth nothing but frown, as who should men's cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine say, "An you will not have me, choose.” He hears that follows his own instructions: I can easier teach merry tales, and smiles not: I fear he will prove twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the weeping philosopher when he grows old, being the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had brain may devise laws for the blood; but a hot tem rather be married to a death's head with a bone in per leaps o'er a cold decree: such a hare is mad his mouth, than to either of these. God defend ness, the youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good me from these two! counsel, the cripple. But this reasoning is not in Ner. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur the fashion to choose me a husband.-0 me! the Le Bon ? word choose! I may neither choose whom I would, Por. God made him, and therefore let him pass nor refuse whom I dislike; so is the will of a living for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a daughter curbed by the will of a dead father.— Is mocker; but, he! why, he hath a horse better it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose one, nor than the Neapolitan's; a better bad habit of frown

ing than the count Palatine: he is every man in Ner. Your father was ever virtuous, and holy no man; if a throstle sing, he falls straight a camen at their death have good inspirations ; there- pering: he will fence with his own shadow. If I fore, the lottery, that he hath devised in these three || should marry him, I should marry twenty hus

refuse none ?

bands. If he would despise me, I would forgive any thing, Nerissa, ere I will be married to a him : for if he love me to madness, I shall never re spunge. quite him.

Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of Ner. What say you, then, to Faulconbridge, the these lords : they have acquainted me with their young baron of England ?

determinations; which is, indeed, to return to their Por. You know, I say nothing to him, for he home, and to trouble you with no more suit, unless understands not me, nor I him : he hath neither you may be won by some other sort than your Latin, French, nor Italian; and you will come into father's imposition, depending on the caskets. the court and swear, that I have a poor penny-worth Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die in the English. He is a proper man's picture; as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the but, alas! who can converse with a dumb show? manner of my father's will. I am glad this parcel How oddly he is suited! I think, he bought his of wooers are so reasonable ; for there is not one doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his among them but I dote on his very absence, and I bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour every pray God grant them a fair departure. where.

Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, that came neighbour ?

hither in company of the Marquis of Montferrat ? Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him; Por. Yes, yes; it was Bassanio : as I think, so for he borrowed a box of the ear from the English was he called. inan, and swore he would pay him again, when he Ner. True, madam: he, of all the men that ever was able : I think, the Frenchman became his my foolish

eyes looked upon, was the best deservsurety, and sealed under for another.


a fair lady. Ner. How like you the young German, the duke Por. I remember him well, and I remember him of Saxony's nephew!

worthy of thy praise.—How now? what news? Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober, and most vilely in the afternoon, when he is

Enter a Servant. drunk: when he is best, he is a little worse than a Serv. The four strangers seek for you, madam, man; and when he is worst, he is little better than to take their leave; and there is a forerunner come a beast. An the worst fall that ever fell, I hope, from a fifth, the prince of Morocco, who brings I shall make shift to go without him.

word, the prince, his master, will be here to-night. Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose Por. If I can bid the fifth welcome with so good the right casket, you should refuse to perform heart, as I can bid the other four farewell, I should your father's will, if you should refuse to accept be glad of his approach: if he have the condition hii.

of a saint, and the complexion of a devil, I had Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, rather he should shrive me than wive me. Coine, set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary Nerissa.—Sirrah, go before.—Whiles we shut the casket ; for, if the devil be within, and that temp gate upon one wooer, another knocks at the door. tation without, I know he will choose it. I will do



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SCENE III.-Venice. A Public Place.

Shy. Ho! no, no, no, no:-my meaning, in sayEnter BASSANIO and ShylocK.

ing he is a good man, is to have you understand me,

that he is sufficient; yet his means are in supShy. Three thousand ducats,-well.

position. He hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, Bass. Ay, sir, for three months.

another to the Indies : I understand moreover upon Shy. For threo months,-well.

the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio England, and other ventures he hath squandered shall be bound.

abroad; but ships are but boards, sailors but men: Shy. Antonio shall become bound,-well. there be land-rats, and water-rats, water-thieves,

Bass. May you stead me? Will you pleasure and land-thieves ; I mean, pirates : and then, there me? Shall I know your answer?

is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks. The man Shy. Three thousand ducats for three months, | is, notwithstanding, sufficient : three thousand ducand Antonio bound.

ats.-I think, I may take his bond. Bass. Your answer to that.

Bass. Be assured you may. Shy. Antonio is a good man.

Shy. I will be assured, I may; and, that I may Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the be assured, I will bethink me. May I speak with contrary?

Antonio ?


Bass. If it please you to dine with us.

The rate of usance here with us in Venice. Shy. Yes, to smell pork; to eat of the habitation | If I can catch him once upon the hip, which your prophet, ihe Nazarite, conjured the I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. devil into. I will buy with you, sell with you, talk He hates our sacred nation; and he rails, with you, walk with you, and so following; but I Even there where merchants most do congregate, will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, with you. What news on the Rialto ?—Who is Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe, be comes here?

If I forgive him!

Shylock, do you hear ?

Shy. I am debating of my present store,
Bass. This is signior Antonio.

And, by the near guess of my memory, Shy. (Aside.] How like a fawning publican he || I cannot instantly raise up the gross Jooks!

Of full three thousand ducats. What of that? I hate him for he is a Christian;

Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, But more, for that, in low simplicity,

'Will furnish me. But soft! how many months He lends out money gratis, and brings down Do you desire ?—Rest you fair, good signior •

Your worship was the last man in our mouths. Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft,

[ To ANTONIQ. In the Rialto, you have rated me Ant. Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor borrow, About my monies, and my usances : By taking, nor by giving of excess,

Still have I borne it with a patient shrug ; Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. I'll break a custom.—Is he yet possess'd,

You call me-misbeliever, cut-throat dog, How much you would ?

And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, Shy.

Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. And all for use of that which is mine own. Ant. And for three months.

Well then, it now appears, you need my help: Shy. I had forgot :-three months; you told me so. Go to then; you come to me, and you say, Well then, your bond : and let me see-But hear • Shylock, we would have monies :" you say so ; you:

You, that did void your rheum upon my beard,
Methought, you said, you neither lend nor borrow And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur
Upon advantage.

Over your threshold : monies is your suit.
I do never use it.

What should I say to you? Should I not say, Shy. When Jacob graz'd his uncle Laban's “Hath a dog money? Is it possible, sheep,

A cur can lend three thousand ducats?" or This Jacob from our holy Abraham was

Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, (As his wise mother wrought in his behalf) With 'bated breath, and whispering humbleness, The third possessor; ay, he was the third.

Say this: Ant. And what of him? did he take interest ? "Fair sir, you spet on me on Wednesday last;

Shy. No, not take interest; not, as you would say, You spurn'd me such a day; another time Directly interest: mark what Jacob did.

You call'd me dog; and for these courtesies When Laban and himself were compromis’d, I'll lend you thus much monies ?" That all the eanlings which were streak’d, and pied, Ant. I am as like to call thee so again, Should fall as Jacob's hire, the ewes, being rank, To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too. In end of autumn turned to the rams;

If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not And when the work of generation was

As to thy friends; for when did friendship take Between these woolly breeders in the act,

A breed for barren metal of his friend ?
The skilful shepherd pilld me certain wands, But lend it rather to thine enemy;
And, in the doing of the deed of kind,

Who if he break, thou may'st with better face
He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes, Exact the penalty.
Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time


you, how

you storin! Fall party-colour'd lambs, and those were Jacob's. I would be friends with you, and have your love, This was a way to thrive, and he was blest: Forget the shames that you have stain'd me witla, And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not.

Supply your present wants, and take no doit Ant. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob serv'd for; Of usance for my monies, A thing not in his power to bring to pass,

And you'll not hear me.

This is kind I offer. But sway'd, and fashion’d by the hand of heaven. Ant. This were kindness. Was this inserted to make interest good ?


This kindness will I show Or is your gold and silver, ewes and rams?

Go with me to a notary, seal me there Shy. I cannot tell : I make it breed as fast. Your single bond; and, in a merry sport, But note me, signior.

If you repay me not on such a day, Ant.

Mark you this, Bassanio, In such a place, such sum or sums as are The devil can cite scripture for his purpose. Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit An evil soul, producing holy witness,

Be nominated for an equal pound Is like a villain with a smiling cheek,

Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken A goodly apple rotten at the heart.

In what part of your body pleaseth me. O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!

Ant. Content, in faith: I'll seal to such a bond, Shy. Three thousand ducats ;—'tis a good round And say there is much kindness in the Jew.

Bass. You shall not seal to such a bond for me Three months from twelve, then let me see the rate. I'll rather dwell in my necessity. Ant. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you? Ant. Why, fear not, man; I will not forfeit it:




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