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 In what part of your body pleaseth me.

Ant. Content, in 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 dwell11 in my necessity.

11

Ant. 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 Abraham, 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, beefs, or goats.

I say,

11 i.e. continue; to abide has both the senses of habitation and continuance.

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 12 guard Of an unthrifty knave; and presently

I will be with you.

[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. Ant. Come on in this there can be no dismay, My ships come home a month before the day.

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE 1. Belmont.

A Room in Portia's House. Flourish of Cornets.

Enter the Prince of Morocco, and his Train; POR-
TIA, NERISSA, and other of her Attendants.
Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion,
The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun,
To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred.
Bring me the fairest creature northward born,
Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles,

12 Fearful guard is a guard that is not to be trusted, but gives cause of fear. To fear was anciently to give as well as feel terSo in K. Henry IV. Part I.

rors.

And let us make incision1 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 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 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,

1 To understand how the tawny prince, whose savage dignity is well supported, means, to recommend himself by this challenge, it must be remembered that red blood is a traditionary sign of courage. Thus, Macbeth calls one of his frighted soldiers, a lily-liver'd boy; again in this play, cowards are said to have livers as white as milk; and an effeminate man is termed a milksop.

It was customary in the east for lovers to testify the violence of their passion by cutting themselves in the sight of their mistresses; and the fashion seems to have been adopted here as a mark of gallantry in Shakspeare's time, when young men frequently stabbed their arms with daggers, and, mingling the blood with wine, drank it off to the healths of their mistresses.

2 i. e. terrified.

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,
Miss that which one unworthier may attain,
And die with grieving.

Por.

You must take your And either not attempt to choose at all,

you

chance;

Or swear, before choose,-if you choose wrong, Never to speak to lady afterward

In way of marriage; therefore be advis'd3.

Mor. Nor will not; come, bring me unto my chance. Por. First, forward to the temple; after dinner Your hazard shall be made.

Mor.

Good fortune then! [Cornets. To make me blest, or cursed'st among men. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. Venice. A Street.

Enter LAUNCELOT GOBBO1.

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 afore3 i.e. be considerate: advised is the word opposite to rash. So in Richard III.

Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advis'd.'

The old copies read-Enter the Clown alone; and throughout the play this character is called the Clown at most of his entrances or exits.

said, 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 heavens3; 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, or rather an honest woman's son; for, indeed, my father did something smack, something grow to, he had a kind of taste;—well, 1, my conscience says, Launcelot, budge not; budge, says the fiend; budge not, says my conscience: Conscience, say I, you counsel well; fiend, say 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 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 commandment, I will run.

2 Scorn running with thy heels.' Mr. Steevens calls this absurdity, and introduces a brother critic, Sir Hugh Evans, to prove it. He inclines to the emendation of an arch-botcher of Shakspeare's text, who has proposed that we should read 'withe thy heels,' i. e. bind them.' The poet's own authority ought to have taught Steevens better. In Much Ado about Nothing, we have 'O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels.' It was merely a figurative but familiar phrase for scorning any thing indignantly. Thus in Sam Rowland's Epigrams, a drunkard says:

'Bid me go sleepe? I scorn it with my heels.'

3 For the heavens was merely a petty oath. To make the fiend conjure Launcelot to do a thing for heaven's sake is a specimen of that 'acute nonsense' which Barrow makes one of the species of wit, and which Shakspeare was sometimes very fond of.