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.
Bass.

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 naught would be accepted but the ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure.
Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring,
Or half her worthiness that gave the ring,
Or your own honor 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?
Nerissa teaches me what to believe:

I'll die for't but some woman had the ring.

Bass. No, by mine honor, 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 displeased away,

Even he that had held up the very life

Sweet Portia,

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 honor would not let ingratitude

So much besmear it.

Pardon me, good lady,
For, by these blesséd 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 e'er 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 anything I have.

Ner. And I his clerk.

Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels.

Por. Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome notwithstanding Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforcéd wrong;

And in the hearing of these many friends

I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes,
Wherein I see myself –

Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear,
I never more will break an oath with thee.

Ant. I once did lend my body for his wealth,
Which, but for him that had your husband's ring,
Had quite miscarriéd: 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.

Ant. Here, Lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring.

Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor. Por. I had it of him. You are all amazed: / Here is a letter, read it at your leisure;

It comes from Padua, from Bellario:

There you shall find, that Portia was the doctor,
Nerissa 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. Antonio, you are welcome;
And I have better news in store for you,
Than you expect: unseal this letter soon;
There you shall find, three of your argosies
Are richly come to harbor suddenly.

You shall not know by what strange accident
I chanced on this letter.

Bass. Were you the doctor, and I knew you not?
Gra. Were you the clerk?

Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life and living;
For here I read for certain that my ships

Are safely come to road.

Por.

How now, Lorenzo?

My clerk hath some good comforts too for you.
Ner. Ay, 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 of.

Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Of starvéd people.

Por.

It is almost morning, And yet I am sure you are not satisfied Of these events at full. Let us go in; And charge us there upon inter'gatories, And we will answer all things faithfully.

[Exeunt.

SCENE.-During a great part of the Play, at ROME; afterwards near SARDIS, and near PHILIPPI

ACT I

SCENE I.-Rome. A Street

Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and Certain Commoners
over the Stage

Flav. Hence! home, you idle creatures, get you home:
Is this a holiday? What! know you not,

Being mechanical, you ought not walk
Upon a laboring day without the sign

Of your profession?-Speak, what trade art thou?

1 Cit. Why, sir, a carpenter.

Mar. Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on ?

You, sir, what trade are you?

2 Cit. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.

Mar. But what trade art thou? answer me directly.

2 Cit. A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.

Mar. What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?

2 Cit. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

Mar. What mean'st thou by that? mend me, thou saucy fellow ?

2 Cit. Why, sir, cobble you.

Flav. Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

2 Cit. Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl; I meddle with no tradesman's matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neat's-leather have gone upon my handiwork.

Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why dost thou lead these men around the streets?

2 Cit. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday to see Cæsar, and to rejoice in his triumph.

Mar. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome,

To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels?

You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!
O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,
Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft
Have you climbed up to walls and battlements,
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney tops,
Your infants in your arms, and there have sat
The livelong day, with patient expectation,