The Works of William Shakespeare

Enter LAUNCELOT, with a letter.

Friend Launcelot, what's the news? Laun. An it shall please you to break up this, it shall seem to signify.

Laun. An they have conspired together, I will not say you shall see a masque; but if you do, then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a-bleeding on Black-Monday last at six o'clock i' Lor. I know the hand: in faith, 'tis a fair hand; nesday was four year, in the afternoon. the morning, falling out that year on Ash-WedAnd whiter than the paper it writ on Is the fair hand that writ.

Meet me and Gratiano At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence. Salar. 'Tis good we do so.

[Exeunt Salar. and Salan. Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica? Lor. I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed How I shall take her from her father's house, What gold and jewels she is furnish'd with, What page's suit she hath in readiness. If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven, It will be for his gentle daughter's sake: And never dare misfortune cross her foot, Unless she do it under this excuse, That she is issue to a faithless Jew. Come, go with me; peruse this as thou goest: Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. [Exeunt.

SCENE V. The same. Before SHYLOCK's house.

Enter SHYLOCK and LAUNcelot. Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge,

The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio:-
What, Jessica!-thou shalt not gormandise,
As thou hast done with me:-What, Jessica !-
And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out ;-
Why, Jessica, I say!
Laun.

Why, Jessica!

Shy. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call.

Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me that I could do nothing without bidding.

Enter JESSICA.

Jes. Call you? what is your will?

Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica:

Shy. What, are there masques? Hear you me, Jessica:

Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum
And the vile squealing of the wry-neck'd fife, 30
Clamber not you up to the casements then,
Nor thrust your head into the public street
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces,
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter
But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements:
My sober house. By Jacob's staff, I swear,
I have no mind of feasting forth to-night:
But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah;
Say I will come.

Laun. I will go before, sir. Mistress, look out at window, for all this;

Fast bind, fast find;

[Exit.

A proverb never stale in thrifty mind.
Jes. Farewell; and if my fortune be not crost,
I have a father, you a daughter, lost. [Exit.

To keep obliged faith unforfeited!

Gra. That ever holds: who riseth from a feast
With that keen appetite that he sits down?
10 Where is the horse that doth untread again
His tedious measures with the unbated fire

ΤΟ

There are my keys. But wherefore should I go? That he did pace them first? All things that are,

I am not bid for love; they flatter me:
But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon
The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl,
Look to my house. I am right loath to go:
There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest,
For I did dream of money-bags to-night.
Laun. I beseech you, sir, go: my young
master doth expect your reproach.
Shy. So do I his.

Enter LORENZO.

Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode;

Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait: When you shall please to play the thieves for wives,

I'll watch as long for you then. Approach;
Here dwells my father Jew. Ho! who's within?

Enter JESSICA, above, in boy's clothes.

Jes. Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty,

Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue.
Ler. Lorenzo, and thy love.

Jes. Lorenzo, certain, and my love indeed, For who love I so much? And now who knows But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours?

Ler. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art.

Jes. Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains.

I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me,
For I am much ashamed of my exchange:
But love is blind and lovers cannot see
The pretty follies that themselves commit;
For if they could, Cupid himself would blush
To see me thus transformed to a boy.

Lør. Descend, for you must be my torchbearer.

Jes. What, must I hold a candle to my shames?

They in themselves, good sooth, are too too light.
Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love;
And I should be obscured.

But come at once;

For the close night doth play the runaway,
And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast.

Jes. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself

With some more ducats, and be with you straight. [Exit above. 50 Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile and no Jew.

Lor. Beshrew me but I love her heartily; For she is wise, if I can judge of her, And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true, And true she is, as she hath proved herself, And therefore, like herself, wise, fair and true, Shall she be placed in my constant soul.

Enter JESSICA, below.

SCENE. VII. Belmont. A room in PORTIA'S house.

Flourish of cornets. Enter PORTIA, with the PRINCE OF MOROCCO, and their trains.

Por. Go draw aside the curtains and discover

The several caskets to this noble prince.
Now make your choice.

Mor. The first, of gold, who this inscription bears,

'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire ;'

The second, silver, which this promise carries, 'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves;'

This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt, 'Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he

hath.'

A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross; I'll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead. What says the silver with her virgin hue? 'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.'

As much as he deserves! Pause there, Morocco,
And weigh thy value with an even hand:
If thou be'st rated by thy estimation,
Thou dost deserve enough; and yet enough
May not extend so far as to the lady:
And yet to be afeard of my deserving
Were but a weak disabling of myself.
As much as I deserve! Why, that's the lady:
I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes,
In graces and in qualities of breeding;
But more than these, in love I do deserve.
What if I stray'd no further, but chose here?
Let's see once more this saying graved in gold;
'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men
desire.'

Why, that's the lady; all the world desires her;
From the four corners of the earth they come,
To kiss this shrine, this mortal-breathing saint: 40
The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds
Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now
For princes to come view fair Portia :
The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head
Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar
To stop the foreign spirits, but they come,
As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia.

One of these three contains her heavenly picture.
Is't like that lead contains her? 'Twere damnation
To think so base a thought: it were too gross 50
To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave.
Or shall I think in silver she's immured,
Being ten times undervalued to tried gold?
O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem

Was set in worse than gold. They have in Eng- I thought upon Antonio when he told me: land

A coin that bears the figure of an angel
Stamped in gold, but that's insculp'd upon;
But here an angel in a golden bed
Lies all within. Deliver me the key:
Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may!

Por. There, take it, prince; and if my form
lie there,

Then I am yours. [He unlocks the golden casket.
Mor.
O hell! what have we here?

A carrion Death, within whose empty eye
There is a written scroll! I'll read the writing.
[Reads] All that glisters is not gold;

Often have you heard that told:
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold:
Gilded tombs do worms infold.
Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgement old,
Your answer had not been inscroll'd:
Fare you well; your suit is cold.
Cold, indeed; and labour lost:
Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost!
Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart
To take a tedious leave: thus losers part.

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,
70 Turning his face, he put his hand behind him,
And with affection wondrous sensible

[Exit with his train. Flourish of cornets. Por. A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go. Let all of his complexion choose me so. [Exeunt.

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 am sure Lorenzo is not.

Salan. The villain Jew with outcries raised
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.

ΙΟ

Salan. I never heard a passion so confused,
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, stolen from me by my daughter!
And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious

stones,

Stolen 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'a 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:

He wrung Bassanio's hand; and so they parted. Salan. I think he only loves the world for him.

Do we so. [Exeunt.

30 By the fool multitude, that choose by show,

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 derived corruptly, and that clear honour
Were purchased 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

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Where is my lady? Por. Here: what would my lord? Serv. 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, 100 Ner. Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be! [Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I. Venice. A street.

Enter SALANIO and SALARINO. Salan. Now, what news on the Rialto? Salar. Why, yet it lives there unchecked that Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wrecked on the narrow seas; the Goodwins, I think they call the place; a very dangerous flat and fatal, where the carcases 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 highway 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.

end is, he Salar

losses.

Ha! what sayest thou? Why, the hath lost a ship.

I would it might prove the end of his

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. 30 Salan. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was fledged; 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 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 was 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 villany you teach me, I will execute, and it shall go hard but I will

better the instruction.

Serv.

Enter a Servant.

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. Enter TUBAL.

Salan. Here comes another of the tribe: a third cannot be matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew. [Exeunt Salan., Salar., and Servant. 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 on my shoulders; no sighs but of my breathing; no tears but of my shedding.

ΙΟΙ

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 thee, good Tubal: good news, good news! ha, ha! where? in Genoa? Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, in one night fourscore ducats.

Shy. Thou stickest 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.

120

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.

Shy. Nay, that's true, that's very true. Go, Tubal, fee me an officer; bespeak him a fortnight before. I will have the heart of him, if he forfeit; for, were he out of Venice, I can make what merchandise I will. Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue; go, good Tubal; at our synagogue, Tubal. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. Belmont. A room in PORTIA's house. Enter BASSANIO, PORTIA, GRATIANO, Nerissa,

and Attendants.

Por. I pray you, tarry: pause a day or two Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong, I lose your company: therefore forbear awhile. 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 I am then forsworn; 11 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'erlook'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 the 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 anything.

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