der'd abroad: But ships are but boards, sailors but And in the doing of the deed of kind, men: there be land-rats, and water-rats, water- He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes; thieves, and land-thieves; I mean, pirates; and Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time

Shy. Yes, to smell pork; to eat of the habita- Or is your gold and silver, ewes and rams? tion which your prophet, the Nazarite, conjured Shy. I cannot tell: I make it breed as fast:

the devil into: I will buy with you, sell with you, But note me, signior.

talk with you, walk with you, and so following;

but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor The devil can cite scripture for his purpose. pray with you. What news on the Rialto?-Who An evil soul, producing holy witness, is he comes here?

Shy. When Jacob graz'd his uncle Laban's sheep, I would be friends with you, and have your love,

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 dwell1 in my necessity.

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 ?

I say,

A pound of man's flesh, taken from a man,
Is not so estimable, profitable neither,
As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats.
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 guard
Of an unthrifty knave; and presently

I will be with you.

[Exit.

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 sucking cubs from the she-bear,
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 chance;

And either not attempt to choose at all,
Or swear, before you choose, -if you choose wrong,
Never to speak to lady afterward

In way of marriage; therefore, be advis'd.*

Mor. Nor will not; come, bring me unto my

chance.

SCENE II.-Venice. A street. Enter Launcelot Gobbo.

Ant.
Hie thee, gentle Jew.
This Hebrew will turn Christian; he grows kind.
Bass. I like not fair terms, and a villain's mind.
Laun. Certainly my conscience will serve me to
Ant. Come on: in this there can be no dis-run from this Jew, my master: The fiend is at mine
may,

My ships come home a month before the day.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-Belmont. A room in Portia's house. Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Morocco, and his train; Portia, Nerissa, and other up a brave mind, says the fiend, and run. Well,

of her attendants.

elbow; and tempts me, saying to me, Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot, or good Gobbo, or [Exeunt. 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 aforesaid, 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 heavens; rouse 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, 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.

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 Phœbus' fire scarce thaws the icicles,
And let us make incision for your love,
To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine.
I tell thee, lady, this aspéct of mine

Hath fear'da 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 look'd 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,

Enter old Gobbo, with a basket.

Gob. Master, young man, you, I pray you; which is the way to master Jew's?

Laun. [Aside.] O heavens, this is my true begotten father! who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel blind, knows me not: -I will try conclusions with him.

Gob. Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew's?

Laun. Turn up on your right hand, at the next

turning, but, at the next turning of all, on your Enter Bassanio, with Leonardo, and other fol

left; marry, at the very next turning, turn of no hand, but turn down indirectly to the Jew's house.

lowers.

Bass. You may do so;-but let it be so hasted,

God. By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to that supper be ready at the farthest by five of the

hit. Can you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, dwell with him, or no?

Laun. Talk you of young master Launcelot?Mark me now; [aside.] now will I raise the waters-Talk you of young master Launcelot?

Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man's son; his father, though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man, and, God be thanked, well to live.

Laun. Well, let his father be what he will, we talk of young master Launcelot.

Gob. Your worship's friend, and Launcelot, sir.

clock: See these letters deliver'd; put the liveries
to making; and desire Gratiano to come anon to
my lodging.
[Exit a servant.

Laun. To him, father.

Gob. God bless your worship! Bass. Gramercy; Would'st thou aught with me? Gob. Here's my son, sir, a poor boy, Laun. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man; that would, sir, as my father shall specify, Gob. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to serve

Laun. But I pray you ergo, old man, ergo, I be- Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve seech you; Talk you of young master Launcelot? the Jew, and I have a desire, as my father shall Gob. Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership. specify,

Laun. Ergo, master Launcelot; talk not of Gob. His master and he (saving your worship's master Launcelot, father; for the young gentleman reverence,) are scarce cater-cousins: (according to fates and destinies, and such odd Laun. To be brief, the very truth is, that the sayings; the sisters three, and such branches of Jew having done me wrong, doth cause me, as my learning,) is, indeed, deceased; or, as you would say, in plain terms, gone to heaven.

Gob. Marry, God forbid! the boy was the very staff of my age, my very prop.

Laun. Do I look like a cudgel, or a hovel-post, a staff, or a prop? - Do you know me, father?

Gob. Alack the day, I know you not, young gentleman: but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy (God rest his soul!) alive, or dead?

Laun. Do you not know me, father?

Gob. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind, I know you not. Lan. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might fail of the knowing me: it is a wise father that knows his own child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son: Give me your blessing: truth will come to light; murder cannot be hid long, a man's son may; but, in the end, truth will out. Gob. Pray you, sir, stand up; I am sure, you

are not Launcelot, my boy.

Laun. Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but give me your blessing; I am Launcelot, your boy that was, your son that is, your child that shall be.

God. I cannot think you are my son. Laun. I know not what I shall think of that: but I am Launcelot, the Jew's man; and, I am sure, Margery, your wife, is my mother.

father, being I hope an old man, shall frutify unto you,

Gob. I have a dish of doves, that I would bestow upon your worship; and my suit is,-

Laun. In very brief the suit is impertinent to myself, as your worship shall know by this honest old man; and, though I say it, though old man, yet, poor man, my father.

Bass. One speak for both;-What would you?
Laun. Serve you, sir.

Gob. This is the very defect of the matter, sir.
Bass. I know thee well, thou hast obtained thy

suit:

Shylock, thy master, spoke with me this day,
And hath preferr'd thee, if it be preferment,
To leave a rich Jew's service, to become
The follower of so poor a gentleman.

Laun. The old proverb is very well parted between my master Shylock and you, sir; you have the grace of God, sir, and he hath enough.

Bass. Thou speak'st it well: Go, father, with
thy son:-

Take leave of thy old master, and inquire
My lodging out: -Give him a livery
[To his followers.
More guarded than his fellows': See it done.
Laun. Father, in:-I cannot get a service, no;-

Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed: I'll be sworn, I have ne'er a tongue in my head.-Well; [lookif thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and ing on his palm.] if any man in Italy have a fairer blood. Lord worshipp'd might he be! what a beard table, which doth offer to swear upon a book.hast thou got! thou hast got more hair on thy chin, I shall have good fortune; Go to, here's a simple than Dobbin my thill-horse' has on his tail. line of life! here's a small trifle of wives: Alas, Laun. It should seem then, that Dobbin's tail fifteen wives is nothing; eleven widows, and nine grows backward; I am sure he had more hair on maids, is a simple coming-in for one man: and his tail, than I have on my face, when I last saw him. then, to 'scape drowning thrice; and to be in peril Gob. Lord, how art thou chang'd! How dost of my life with the edge of a feather-bed; here thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a are simple 'scapes! Well, if fortune be a woman, present; How 'gree you now?

she's a good wench for this gear.-Father, come;
I'll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of
[Exeunt Laun. and old Gob.

Bass. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this;
These things being bought, and orderly bestow'd,
Return in haste, for I do feast to-night
My best-esteem'd acquaintance; hie thee, go.
Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein.

Laun. Well, well; but, for my own part, as I have set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest an eye. till I have run some ground: my master's a very Jew: Give him a present! give him a halter: I am famish'd in his service; you may tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come; give me your present to one master Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare new liveries: if I serve not him, I will run as far as God has any ground. O rare fortune! here comes the man;to him, father; for I am a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer.

(1) Shaft-horse, (2) Ornamented.

Enter Gratiano.

Gra. Where is your master?
Leon.
Yonder, sir, he walks.
Exit Leonardo.

(3) The palm of the hand extended.

Gra. Signior Bassanio,

Bass. Gratiano!

Gra. I have a suit to you.
Bass.

You have obtain'd it. Gra. You must not deny me; I must go with you to Belmont.

Bass. Why, then you must; -But hear thee,
Gratiano;

Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice; -
Parts, that become thee happily enough,
And in such eyes as ours appear not faults;
But where thou art not known, why, there they show
Something too liberal; 1-pray thee, take pain
To allay with some cold drops of modesty

Thy skipping spirit; lest, through thy wild beha

Signior Bassanio, hear me:

If I do not put on a sober habit,

Talk with respect, and swear but now and then,
Weer prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely;
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say, amen;
Use all the observance of civility,

Like one well studied in a sad ostent2

To please his grandam, never trust me more.

Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing.

Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night; you shall not

No, that were pity;

I would entreat you rather to put on

Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends

That purpose merriment: But fare you well,
I have some business.

Gra. And I must to Lorenzo, and the rest;
But we will visit you at supper-time.

[Exeunt. SCENE III. The same. A room in Shylock's house. Enter Jessica and Launcelot.

Jes. I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so;
Our house is helf, and thou, a merry devil,
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness;
But fare thee well; there is a ducat for thee.
And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest:
Give him this letter; do it secretly,
And so farewell; I would not have my father
See me talk with thee.

Laun. Adieu! tears exhibit my tongue. Most beautiful Pagan,-most sweet Jew! If a Christian do not play the knave, and get thee, I am much deceived: But, adicu! these foolish drops do somewhat drown my manly spirit, adieu!

Jes. Farewell, good Launcelot.-
Alack, what heinous sin is it in me,
To be asham'd to be my father's child!
But though I am a daughter to his blood,
I am not to his manners: O Lorenzo,
If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife;

[Exit.

Salan. 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly or der'd; And better, in my mind, not undertook. Lor. 'Tis now but four o'clock; we have two hours To furnish us:

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.

Lor. I know the hand: in faith, 'tis a fair hand;

And whiter than the paper it writ on,
Is the fair hand that writ.
Gra.

Love-news, in faith.

Laun. By your leave, sir.
Lor. Whither goest thou?

Laun. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew

to sup to-night with my new master the Christian.
Lor. Hold here, take this:-tell gentle Jessica,
I will not fail her; -speak it privately; go.-
Gentlemen,

[Exit Launcelot,

Will you prepare you for this masque to-night?
I am provided of a torch-bearer.

Salar. Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it straight.
Salan. And so will I.
Lor.

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.

(Ezeunt.

Jes. Call you? What is your will?

Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica;

There are my keys:-But wherefore should I go;

Become a Christian, and thy loving wife. [Erit. I am not bid for love; they flatter me:

SCENE IV. The same. A street. Enter Gra-
tiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio.
Lor. Nay, we will slink away in supper-time;
Disguise us at my lodging, and return
All in an hour.

Gra. We have not made good preparation.
Salar. We have not spoke us yet of torch-

bearers.

(1) Gross, licentious.

(2) Show of staid and serious demeanour.

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.

Laun. And they have conspired together, -I will not say, you shall see a masque ; but if you do, (3) Carriage, deportment, (4) Invited.

then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a bleed- Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue.

ing on Black-Monday last, at six o'clock i'the
morning, falling out that year on Ash-Wednesday
was four year in the afternoon.

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

Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum,
And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fife,
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:
But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements;
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter
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.

Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love.

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

Lor. Heaven, and thy thoughts, are witness that

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 asham'd 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.

Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer.
Jes. What, must I hold a candle to my shames?
They in themselves, good sooth, are too, too light.

I will go before, sir.- Why, 'tis an oflice of discovery, love;

Mistress, look out at window, for all this;
There will come a Christian by,

Will be worth a Jewess' eye. [Exit Laun.
Shy. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha?
Jes. His words were, Farewell, mistress; nothing
else.

Shy. The patch is kind enough; but a huge feeder,
Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day
More than the wild cat; drones hive not with me;
Therefore I part with him; and part with him
To one that I would have him help to waste
His borrow'd purse.-Well, Jessica, go in;
Perhaps, I will return immediately;

Do, as I bid you,

Shut doors after you: Fast bind, fast find;
A proverb never stale in thrifty mind.

[Exit.

Jes. Farewell: and if my fortune be not crost, I have a father, you a daughter, lost.

SCENE VI.-The same.

[Exit.

And I should be obscur'd.
Lor.

So are you, sweet,

Even in the lovely garnish of a boy.
But come at once;

For the close night doth play the run-away,
And we are staid for at Bassanio's feast.

Jes. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself With some more ducats, and be with you straight. [Exil, from above.

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 prov'd herself';
And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true,
Shall she be placed in my constant soul.

Enter Jessica, below.

What, art thou come?-On, gentlemen, away,
Enter Gratiano and Our masquing mates by this time for us stay.
Salarino, masked.

Gra. This is the pent-house, under which Lorenzo
Desir'd us to make stand.
Salar.

His hour is almost past.
Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour,
For lovers ever run before the clock.

Salar. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly
To seal love's bonds new made, than they are wont,
To keep obliged faith unforfeited!

Gra. That ever holds: Who riseth from a feast,
With that keen appetite that he sits down?
Where is the horse that doth untread again
His tedious measures with the unbated fire
That he did pace them first? All things that are,
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd.
How like a younker, or a prodigal,

The scarfed bark puts from her native bay,
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind!
How like the prodigal doth she return,
With over-weather'd ribs, and ragged sails,
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind!

[Exit with Jessica and Salarino.

Enter Antonio.

Ant. Who's there?

Gra. Signior Antonio?

Ant. Fie, fie, Gratiano? where are all the rest?
'Tis nine o'clock; our friends all stay for you:-
No masque to-night; the wind is come about,
Bassanio presently will go aboard:
I have sent twenty out to seek for you.

Gra. I am glad on't; I desire no more delight,
Than to be under sail, and gone to-night. Exe.
SCENE VII.-Belmont. A room in Portia's
house. Flourish of cornets. Enter Portia, with
the prince of Morocco, and both their trains.
Por. Go, draw aside the curtains, and discover
The several caskets to this noble prince :-
Now make vour 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 gel as much as he deserves.
The third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt ;-
Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath.
How shall I know if I do choose the right?

Por. The one of them contains my picture, prince;
If you choose that, then I am yours withal.

Mor. Some god direct my judgment! Let me