The Merchant of Venice (Folio 1, 1623)
Not Peer Reviewed
¶
Actus Quintus.
¶
Enter Lorenzo and Iessica.
¶Troylus me thinkes mounted the Troian walls,
¶Did Thisbie fearefully ore-trip the dewe,
¶And ranne dismayed away.
¶Stood Dido with a Willow in her hand
¶Vpon the wilde sea bankes, and waft her Loue
¶To come againe to Carthage.
2420Medea gathered the inchanted hearbs
¶That did renew old Eson.
¶And with an Vnthrift Loue did runne from Venice,
2425As farre as Belmont.
¶Did young Lorenzo sweare he lou'd her well,
¶Stealing her soule with many vowes of faith,
¶And nere a true one.
¶Slander her Loue, and he forgaue it her.
¶Iessi. I would out-night you did no body come:
¶But harke, I heare the footing of a man.
2435
Enter Messenger.
¶Mes. A friend.
¶Mes. Stephano is my name, and I bring word
¶For happy wedlocke houres.
¶Loren. Who comes with her?
2445Mes. None but a holy Hermit and her maid:
¶I pray you it my Master yet rnturn'd?
¶Loren. He is not, nor we haue not heard from him,
¶And ceremoniously let vs vs prepare
¶
Enter Clowne.
¶Loren. Who calls?
2455Lor. Leaue hollowing man, heere.
¶Clo. Sola, where, where?
¶Lor. Heere?
¶his horne full of good newes, my Master will be here ere
¶Loren. Let's in, and there expect their comming.
¶And yet no matter: why should we goe in?
¶My friend Stephen, signifie pray you
2465And bring your musique foorth into the ayre.
¶Become the tutches of sweet harmonie:
¶Is thicke inlayed with pattens of bright gold,
¶But in his motion like an Angell sings,
¶Still quiring to the young eyed Cherubins;
2475Such harmonie is in immortall soules,
¶Come hoe, and wake Diana with a hymne,
2480And draw her home with musicke.
¶
Play musicke.
¶For doe but note a wilde and wanton heard
2485Or race of youthful and vnhandled colts,
¶Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,
¶Which is the hot condition of their bloud,
¶If they but heare perchance a trumpet sound,
¶Or any ayre of musicke touch their eares,
¶Did faine that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods.
2495But musicke for time doth change his nature,
¶The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
2500And his affections darke as Erobus,
¶
Enter Portia and Nerrissa.
¶How farre that little candell throwes his beames,
2505So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
¶Vntill a King be by, and then his state
2510Empties it selfe, as doth an inland brooke
¶Into the maine of waters: musique, harke.
Musicke.
¶When neither is attended: and I thinke
¶When euery Goose is cackling, would be thought
2520No better a Musitian then the Wren?
¶To their right praise, and true perfection:
¶Peace, how the Moone sleepes with Endimion,
¶And would not be awak'd.
2525
Musicke ceases.
¶Lor. That is the voice,
¶Or I am much deceiu'd of Portia.
¶Por. He knowes me as the blinde man knowes the
¶Cuckow by the bad voice?
2530Lor. Deere Lady welcome home?
¶Which speed we hope the better for our words,
¶Are they return'd?
¶Lor. Madam, they are not yet:
¶To signifie their comming.
¶Giue order to my seruants, that they take
¶No note at all of our being absent hence,
¶
A Tucket sounds.
¶We are no tell-tales Madam, feare you not.
2545It lookes a little paler, 'tis a day,
¶Such as the day is, when the Sun is hid.
¶
Enter Bassanio, Anthonio, Gratiano, and their
¶Followers.
¶Por. Let me giue light, but let me not be light,
¶For a light wife doth make a heauie husband,
¶But God sort all: you are welcome home my Lord.
2555Bass. I thanke you Madam, giue welcom to my friend
¶This is the man, this is Anthonio,
¶To whom I am so infinitely bound.
¶For as I heare he was much bound for you.
2560Anth. No more then I am wel acquitted of.
¶It must appeare in other waies then words,
2565Infaith I gaue it to the Iudges Clearke,
¶Would he were gelt that had it for my part,
¶Since you do take it Loue so much at hart.
¶Por. A quarrel hoe alreadie, what's the matter?
¶Gra. About a hoope of Gold, a paltry Ring
¶For all the world like Cutlers Poetry
¶Vpon a knife; Loue mee, and leaue mee not.
¶You swore to me when I did giue it you,
2575That you would weare it til the houre of death,
¶And that it should lye with you in your graue,
¶Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,
¶Gaue it a Iudges Clearke: but wel I know
2580The Clearke wil nere weare haire on's face that had it.
¶Gra. He wil, and if he liue to be a man.
¶Nerrissa. I, if a Woman liue to be a man.
¶Gra. Now by this hand I gaue it to a youth,
¶A kinde of boy, a little scrubbed boy,
2585No higher then thy selfe, the Iudges Clearke,
¶A prating boy that begg'd it as a Fee,
¶I could not for my heart deny it him.
2590A thing stucke on with oathes vpon your finger,
¶I gaue my Loue a Ring, and made him sweare
¶Neuer to part with it, and heere he stands:
¶I dare be sworne for him, he would not leaue it,
2595Nor plucke it from his finger, for the wealth
¶That the world masters. Now in faith Gratiano,
¶You giue your wife too vnkinde a cause of greefe,
¶And 'twere to me I should be mad at it.
¶Vnto the Iudge that beg'd it, and indeede
¶Deseru'd it too: and then the Boy his Clearke
¶That tooke some paines in writing, he begg'd mine,
2605And neyther man nor master would take ought
¶But the two Rings.
¶Por. What Ring gaue you my Lord?
¶Not that I hope which you receiu'd of me.
¶Bass. If I could adde a lie vnto a fault,
2610I would deny it: but you see my finger
¶Hath not the Ring vpon it, it is gone.
¶By heauen I wil nere come in your bed
¶Vntil I see the Ring.
¶Bass. Sweet Portia,
¶If you did know to whom I gaue the Ring,
¶If you did know for whom I gaue the Ring,
¶And would conceiue for what I gaue the Ring,
2620And how vnwillingly I left the Ring,
¶When nought would be accepted but the Ring,
¶Por. If you had knowne the vertue of the Ring,
2625Or your owne honour to containe the Ring,
¶You would not then haue parted with the Ring:
¶If you had pleas'd to haue defended it
¶With any termes of Zeale: wanted the modestie
2630To vrge the thing held as a ceremonie:
¶Ile die for't, but some Woman had the Ring?
¶No Woman had it, but a ciuill Doctor,
¶And beg'd the Ring; the which I did denie him,
¶Euen he that had held vp the verie life
2640I was inforc'd to send it after him,
¶My honor would not let ingratitude
¶So much besmeare it. Pardon me good Lady,
2645Had you bene there, I thinke you would haue beg'd
¶The Ring of me, to giue the worthie Doctor?
¶Since he hath got the iewell that I loued,
¶And that which you did sweare to keepe for me,
2650I will become as liberall as you,
¶Ile not deny him any thing I haue,
¶No, not my body, nor my husbands bed:
¶Lie not a night from home. Watch me like Argos,
2655If you doe not, if I be left alone,
¶Now by mine honour which is yet mine owne,
¶Ile haue the Doctor for my bedfellow.
¶Nerrissa. And I his Clarke: therefore be well aduis'd
¶How you doe leaue me to mine owne protection.
¶For if I doe, ile mar the yong Clarks pen.
¶Por. Sir, grieue not you,
¶You are welcome notwithstanding.
2665Bas. Portia, forgiue me this enforced wrong,
¶And in the hearing of these manie friends
¶I sweare to thee, euen by thine owne faire eyes
¶Por. Marke you but that?
¶And there's an oath of credit.
¶Bas. Nay, but heare me.
2675I neuer more will breake an oath with thee.
¶Anth. I once did lend my bodie for thy wealth,
¶Which but for him that had your husbands ring
¶Had quite miscarried. I dare be bound againe,
¶My soule vpon the forfeit, that your Lord
2680Will neuer more breake faith aduisedlie.
¶And bid him keepe it better then the other.
¶For by this ring the Doctor lay with me.
¶Ner. And pardon me my gentle Gratiano,
¶In liew of this, last night did lye with me.
2690Gra. Why this is like the mending of high waies
¶In Sommer, where the waies are faire enough:
¶What, are we Cuckolds ere we haue deseru'd it.
¶Heere is a letter, reade it at your leysure,
2695It comes from Padua from Bellario,
¶There you shall finde that Portia was the Doctor,
¶And but eu'n now return'd: I haue not yet
2700Entred my house. Anthonio you are welcome,
¶And I haue better newes in store for you
¶Are richly come to harbour sodainlie.
¶I chanced on this letter.
¶Antho. I am dumbe.
¶Bass. Were you the Doctor, and I knew you not?
¶Gra. Were you the Clark that is to make me cuckold.
2710Ner. I, but the Clark that neuer meanes to doe it,
¶When I am absent, then lie with my wife.
¶An. (Sweet Ladie) you haue giuen me life & liuing;
2715For heere I reade for certaine that my ships
¶Are safelie come to Rode.
¶Por. How now Lorenzo?
¶My Clarke hath some good comforts to for you.
¶Ner. I, and Ile giue them him without a fee.
¶From the rich Iewe, a speciall deed of gift
¶Loren. Faire Ladies you drop Manna in the way
¶Of starued people.
¶Of these euents at full. Let vs goe in,
¶And charge vs there vpon intergatories,
¶And we will answer all things faithfully.
¶Or goe to bed, now being two houres to day,
2735Till I were couching with the Doctors Clarke.
¶Well, while I liue, Ile feare no other thing
¶
Exeunt.
