4IN sooth I know not why I am so sad,

5It wearies me: you say it wearies you;

6But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,

7What stuffe 'tis made of, whereof it is borne,

8I am to learne: and such a Want-wit sadnesse makes of

9mee,

10That I haue much ado to know my selfe.

11Sal. Your minde is tossing on the Ocean,

12There where your Argosies with portly saile

13Like Signiors and rich Burgers on the flood,

14Or as it were the Pageants of the sea,

15Do ouer-peere the pettie Traffiquers

16That curtsie to them, do them reuerence

17As they flye by them with their wouen wings.

18Salar. Beleeue me sir, had I such venture forth,

19The better part of my affections, would

20Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still

21Plucking the grasse to know where sits the winde,

22Peering in Maps for ports, and peers, and rodes:

23And euery obiect that might make me feare

24Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt

25Would make me sad.

26Sal. My winde cooling my broth,

27Would blow me to an Ague, when I thought

28What harme a winde too great might doe at sea.

29I should not see the sandie houre-glasse runne,

30But I should thinke of shallows, and of flats,

31And see my wealthy Andrew docks in sand,

32Vailing her high top lower then her ribs

33To kisse her buriall; should I goe to Church

34And see the holy edifice of stone,

35And not bethinke me straight of dangerous rocks,

36Which touching but my gentle Vessels side

37Would scatter all her spices on the streame,

38Enrobe the roring waters with my silkes,

39And in a word, but euen now worth this,

40And now worth nothing. Shall I haue the thought

41To thinke on this, and shall I lacke the thought

42That such a thing bechaunc'd would make me sad?

43But tell not me, I know Anthonio

44Is sad to thinke vpon his merchandize.

45Anth. Beleeue me no, I thanke my fortune for it,

46My ventures are not in one bottome trusted,

47Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate

48Vpon the fortune of this present yeere:

49Therefore my merchandize makes me not sad.

50Sola. Why then you are in loue.

51Anth. Fie, fie.

52Sola. Not in loue neither: then let vs say you are sad

53Because you are not merry; and 'twere as easie

54For you to laugh and leape, and say you are merry

55Because you are not sad. Now by two-headed Ianus,

56Nature hath fram'd strange fellowes in her time:

57Some that will euermore peepe through their eyes,

58And laugh like Parrats at a bag-piper.

59And other of such vineger aspect,

60That they'll not shew their teeth in way of smile,

61Though Nestor sweare the iest be laughable.

63Sola. Heere comes Bassanio,

64Your most noble Kinsman,

65Gratiano, and Lorenso. Faryewell,

66We leaue you now with better company.

67Sala. I would haue staid till I had made you merry,

68If worthier friends had not preuented me.

69Ant. Your worth is very deere in my regard.

70I take it your owne busines calls on you,

71And you embrace th' occasion to depart.

72Sal. Good morrow my good Lords.

73Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say,(when?

74You grow exceeding strange: must it be so?

75Sal. Wee'll make our leysures to attend on yours.

77Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you haue found Anthonio

78We two will leaue you, but at dinner time

79I pray you haue in minde where we must meete.

80Bass. I will not faile you.

81Grat. You looke not well signior Anthonio,

82You haue too much respect vpon the world:

83They loose it that doe buy it with much care,

84Beleeue me you are maruellously chang'd.

85Ant. I hold the world but as the world Gratiano,

86A stage, where euery man must play a part,

87And mine a sad one.

88Grati. Let me play the foole,

89With mirth and laughter let old wrinckles come,

90And let my Liuer rather heate with wine,

91Then my heart coole with mortifying grones.

92Why should a man whose bloud is warme within,

93Sit like his Grandsire, cut in Alablaster?

94Sleepe when he wakes? and creep into the Iaundies

95By being peeuish? I tell thee what Anthonio,

96I loue thee, and it is my loue that speakes:

97There are a sort of men, whose visages

98Do creame and mantle like a standing pond,

99And do a wilfull stilnesse entertaine,

100With purpose to be drest in an opinion

101Of wisedome, grauity, profound conceit,

102As who should say, I am sir an Oracle,

103And when I ope my lips, let no dogge barke.

104O my Anthonio, I do know of these

105That therefore onely are reputed wise,

106For saying nothing; when I am verie sure

107If they should speake, would almost dam those eares

108Which hearing them would call their brothers fooles:

109Ile tell thee more of this another time.

110But fish not with this melancholly baite

111For this foole Gudgin, this opinion:

112Come good Lorenzo, faryewell a while,

113Ile end my exhortation after dinner.

114Lor. Well, we will leaue you then till dinner time.

115I must be one of these same dumbe wise men,

116For Gratiano neuer let's me speake.

117Gra. Well, keepe me company but two yeares mo,

118Thou shalt not know the sound of thine owne tongue.

119Ant. Far you well, Ile grow a talker for this geare.

120Gra. Thankes ifaith, for silence is onely commendable

121In a neats tongue dri'd, and a maid not vendible. Exit.

122Ant. It is that any thing now.

123Bas. Gratiano speakes an infinite deale of nothing,

124more then any man in all Venice, his reasons are two

125graines of wheate hid in two bushels of chaffe: you shall

126seeke all day ere you finde them, & when you haue them

127they are not worth the search.

128An. Well: tel me now, what Lady is the same

129To whom you swore a secret Pilgrimage

130That you to day promis'd to tel me of?

131Bas. Tis not vnknowne to you Anthonio

132How much I haue disabled mine estate,

133By something shewing a more swelling port

134Then my faint meanes would grant continuance:

135Nor do I now make mone to be abridg'd

136From such a noble rate, but my cheefe care

137Is to come fairely off from the great debts

138Wherein my time something too prodigall

139Hath left me gag'd: to you Anthonio

140I owe the most in money, and in loue,

141And from your loue I haue a warrantie

142To vnburthen all my plots and purposes,

143How to get cleere of all the debts I owe.

144An. I pray you good Bassanio let me know it,

145And if it stand as you your selfe still do,

146Within the eye of honour, be assur'd

147My purse, my person, my extreamest meanes

148Lye all vnlock'd to your occasions.

149Bass. In my schoole dayes, when I had lost one shaft

150I shot his fellow of the selfesame flight

151The selfesame way, with more aduised watch

152To finde the other forth, and by aduenturing both,

153I oft found both. I vrge this child-hoode proofe,

154Because what followes is pure innocence.

155I owe you much, and like a wilfull youth,

156That which I owe is lost: but if you please

157To shoote another arrow that selfe way

158Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,

159As I will watch the ayme: Or to finde both,

160Or bring your latter hazard backe againe,

161And thankfully rest debter for the first.

162An. You know me well, and herein spend but time

163To winde about my loue with circumstance,

164And out of doubt you doe more wrong

165In making question of my vttermost

166Then if you had made waste of all I haue:

167Then doe but say to me what I should doe

168That in your knowledge may by me be done,

169And I am prest vnto it: therefore speake.

170Bass. In Belmont is a Lady richly left,

171And she is faire, and fairer then that word,

172Of wondrous vertues, sometimes from her eyes

173I did receiue faire speechlesse messages:

174Her name is Portia, nothing vndervallewd

175To Cato's daughter, Brutus Portia,

176Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth,

177For the foure windes blow in from euery coast

178Renowned sutors, and her sunny locks

179Hang on her temples like a golden fleece,

180Which makes her seat of Belmont Cholchos strond,

181And many Iasons come in quest of her.

182O my Anthonio, had I but the meanes

183To hold a riuall place with one of them,

184I haue a minde presages me such thrift,

185That I should questionlesse be fortunate.

186Anth. Thou knowst that all my fortunes are at sea,

187Neither haue I money, nor commodity

188To raise a present summe, therefore goe forth

189Try what my credit can in Venice doe,

190That shall be rackt euen to the vttermost,

191To furnish thee to Belmont to faire Portia.

192Goe presently enquire, and so will I

193Where money is, and I no question make

194To haue it of my trust, or for my sake. Exeunt.

196Portia. By my troth Nerrissa, my little body is a wea-

197rie of this great world.

198Ner. You would be sweet Madam, if your miseries

199were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are:

200and yet for ought I see, they are as sicke that surfet with

201too much, as they that starue with nothing; it is no smal

202happinesse therefore to bee seated in the meane, super-

203fluitie comes sooner by white haires, but competencie

204liues longer.

205Portia. Good sentences, and well pronounc'd.

206Ner. They would be better if well followed.

207Portia. If to doe were as easie as to know what were

208good to doe, Chappels had beene Churches, and poore

209mens cottages Princes Pallaces: it is a good Diuine that

210followes his owne instructions; I can easier teach twen-

211tie what were good to be done, then be one of the twen-

212tie to follow mine owne teaching: the braine may de-

213uise lawes for the blood, but a hot temper leapes ore a

214colde decree, such a hare is madnesse the youth, to skip

215ore the meshes of good counsaile the cripple; but this

216reason is not in fashion to choose me a husband: O mee,

217the word choose, I may neither choose whom I would,

218nor refuse whom I dislike, so is the wil of a liuing daugh-

219ter curb'd by the will of a dead father: it is not hard Ner-

220rissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none.

221Ner. Your father was euer vertuous, and holy men

222at their death haue good inspirations, therefore the lot-

223terie that hee hath deuised in these three chests of gold,

224siluer, and leade, whereof who chooses his meaning,

225chooses you, wil no doubt neuer be chosen by any right-

226ly, but one who you shall rightly loue: but what warmth

227is there in your affection towards any of these Princely

228suters that are already come?

229Por. I pray thee ouer-name them, and as thou namest

230them, I will describe them, and according to my descrip-

231tion leuell at my affection.

232Ner. First there is the Neopolitane Prince.

233Por. I that's a colt indeede, for he doth nothing but

234talke of his horse, and hee makes it a great appropria-

235tion to his owne good parts that he can shoo him him-

236selfe: I am much afraid my Ladie his mother plaid false

237with a Smyth.

238Ner. Than is there the Countie Palentine.

239Por. He doth nothing but frowne (as who should

240say, and you will not haue me, choose: he heares merrie

241tales and smiles not, I feare hee will proue the weeping

242Phylosopher when he growes old, being so full of vn-

243mannerly sadnesse in his youth.) I had rather to be marri-

244ed to a deaths head with a bone in his mouth, then to ei-

245ther of these: God defend me from these two.

246Ner. How say you by the French Lord, Mounsier

247Le Boune?

248Pro. God made him, and therefore let him passe for a

249man, in truth I know it is a sinne to be a mocker, but he,

250why he hath a horse better then the Neopolitans, a bet-

251ter bad habite of frowning then the Count Palentine, he

252is euery man in no man, if a Trassell sing, he fals straight

253a capring, he will fence with his own shadow. If I should

254marry him, I should marry twentie husbands: if hee

255would despise me, I would forgiue him, for if he loue me

256to madnesse, I should neuer requite him.

257Ner. What say you then to Fauconbridge, the yong

258Baron of England?

259Por. You know I say nothing to him, for hee vnder-

260stands not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latine, French,

261nor Italian, and you will come into the Court & sweare

262that I haue a poore pennie-worth in the English: hee is a

263proper mans picture, but alas who can conuerse with a

264dumbe show? how odly he is suited, I thinke he bought

265his doublet in Italie, his round hose in France, his bonnet

266in Germanie, and his behauiour euery where.

267Ner. What thinke you of the other Lord his neigh-

268bour?

269Por. That he hath a neighbourly charitie in him, for

270he borrowed a boxe of the eare of the Englishman, and

271swore he would pay him againe when hee was able: I

272thinke the Frenchman became his suretie, and seald vnder

273for another.

274Ner. How like you the yong Germaine, the Duke of

275Saxonies Nephew?

276Por. Very vildely in the morning when hee is sober,

277and most vildely in the afternoone when hee is drunke:

278when he is best, he is a little worse then a man, and when

279he is worst, he is little better then a beast: and the worst

280fall that euer fell, I hope I shall make shift to goe with-

281out him.

282Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right

283Casket, you should refuse to performe your Fathers will,

284if you should refuse to accept him.

285Por. Therefore for feare of the worst, I pray thee set

286a deepe glasse of Reinish-wine on the contrary Casket,

287for if the diuell be within, and that temptation without,

288I know he will choose it. I will doe any thing Nerrissa

289ere I will be married to a spunge.

290Ner. You neede not feare Lady the hauing any of

291these Lords, they haue acquainted me with their deter-

292minations, which is indeede to returne to their home,

293and to trouble you with no more suite, vnlesse you may

294be won by some other sort then your Fathers impositi-

295on, depending on the Caskets.

296Por. If I liue to be as olde as Sibilla, I will dye as

297chaste as Diana: vnlesse I be obtained by the manner

298of my Fathers will: I am glad this parcell of wooers

299are so reasonable, for there is not one among them but

300I doate on his verie absence: and I wish them a faire de-

301parture.

302Ner. Doe you not remember Ladie in your Fa-

303thers time, a Venecian, a Scholler and a Souldior that

304came hither in companie of the Marquesse of Mount-

305ferrat?

306Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio, as I thinke, so was hee

307call'd.

308Ner. True Madam, hee of all the men that euer my

309foolish eyes look'd vpon, was the best deseruing a faire

310Lady.

311Por. I remember him well, and I remember him wor-

312thy of thy praise.

314Ser. The foure Strangers seeke you Madam to take

315their leaue: and there is a fore-runner come from a fift,

316the Prince of Moroco, who brings word the Prince his

317Maister will be here to night.

318Por. If I could bid the fift welcome with so good

319heart as I can bid the other foure farewell, I should be

320glad of his approach: if he haue the condition of a Saint,

321and the complexion of a diuell, I had rather hee should

322shriue me then wiue me. Come Nerrissa, sirra go before;

323whiles wee shut the gate vpon one wooer, another

324knocks at the doore. Exeunt.

326Shy. Three thousand ducates, well.

327Bass. I sir, for three months.

328Shy. For three months, well.

329Bass. For the which, as I told you,

330Anthonio shall be bound.

331Shy. Anthonio shall become bound, well.

332Bass. May you sted me? Will you pleasure me?

333Shall I know your answere.

334Shy. Three thousand ducats for three months,

335and Anthonio bound.

336Bass. Your answere to that.

337Shy. Anthonio is a good man.

338Bass. Haue you heard any imputation to the con-

339trary.

340Shy. Ho no, no, no, no: my meaning in saying he is a

341good man, is to haue you vnderstand me that he is suffi-

342cient, yet his meanes are in supposition: he hath an Argo-

343sie bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies, I vnder-

344stand moreouer vpon the Ryalta, he hath a third at Mexi-

345co, a fourth for England, and other ventures hee hath

346squandred abroad, but ships are but boords, Saylers but

347men, there be land rats, and water rats, water theeues,

348and land theeues, I meane Pyrats, and then there is the

349perrill of waters, windes, and rocks: the man is notwith-

350standing sufficient, three thousand ducats, I thinke I may

351take his bond.

352Bas. Be assured you may.

353Iew. I will be assured I may: and that I may be assu-

354red, I will bethinke mee, may I speake with Antho-

355nio?

356Bass. If it please you to dine with vs.

357Iew. Yes, to smell porke, to eate of the habitation

358which your Prophet the Nazarite coniured the diuell

359into: I will buy with you, sell with you, talke with

360you, walke with you, and so following: but I will

361not eate with you, drinke with you, nor pray with you.

362What newes on the Ryalta, who is he comes here?

364Bass. This is signior Anthonio.

365Iew. How like a fawning publican he lookes.

366I hate him for he is a Christian:

367But more, for that in low simplicitie

368He lends out money gratis, and brings downe

369The rate of vsance here with vs in Venice.

370If I can catch him once vpon the hip,

371I will feede fat the ancient grudge I beare him.

372He hates our sacred Nation, and he railes

373Euen there where Merchants most doe congregate

374On me, my bargaines, and my well-worne thrift,

375Which he cals interrest: Cursed be my Trybe

376If I forgiue him.

377Bass. Shylock, doe you heare.

378Shy. I am debating of my present store,

379And by the neere gesse of my memorie

380I cannot instantly raise vp the grosse

381Of full three thousand ducats: what of that?

382Tuball a wealthy Hebrew of my Tribe

383Will furnish me; but soft, how many months

384Doe you desire? Rest you faire good signior,

385Your worship was the last man in our mouthes.

386Ant. Shylocke, albeit I neither lend nor borrow

387By taking, nor by giuing of excesse,

388Yet to supply the ripe wants of my friend,

389Ile breake a custome: is he yet possest

390How much he would?

391Shy. I, I, three thousand ducats.

392Ant. And for three months.

393Shy. I had forgot, three months, you told me so.

394Well then, your bond: and let me see, but heare you,

395Me thoughts you said, you neither lend nor borrow

396Vpon aduantage.

397Ant. I doe neuer vse it.

398Shy. When Iacob graz'd his Vncle Labans sheepe,

399This Iacob from our holy Abram was

400(As his wise mother wrought in his behalfe)

401The third possesser; I, he was the third.

402Ant. And what of him, did he take interrest?

403Shy. No, not take interest, not as you would say

404Directly interest, marke what Iacob did,

405When Laban and himselfe were compremyz'd

406That all the eanelings which were streakt and pied

407Should fall as Iacobs hier, the Ewes being rancke,

408In end of Autumne turned to the Rammes,

409And when the worke of generation was

410Betweene these woolly breeders in the act,

411The skilfull shepheard pil'd me certaine wands,

412And in the dooing of the deede of kinde,

413He stucke them vp before the fulsome Ewes,

414Who then conceauing, did in eaning time

415Fall party-colour'd lambs, and those were Iacobs.

416This was a way to thriue, and he was blest:

417And thrift is blessing if men steale it not.

418Ant. This was a venture sir that Iacob seru'd for,

419A thing not in his power to bring to passe,

420But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heauen.

421Was this inserted to make interrest good?

422Or is your gold and siluer Ewes and Rams?

423Shy. I cannot tell, I make it breede as fast,

424But note me signior.

425Ant. Marke you this Bassanio,

426The diuell can cite Scripture for his purpose,

427An euill soule producing holy witnesse,

428Is like a villaine with a smiling cheeke,

429A goodly apple rotten at the heart.

430O what a goodly outside falsehood hath.

431Shy. Three thousand ducats, 'tis a good round sum.

432Three months from twelue, then let me see the rate.

433Ant. Well Shylocke, shall we be beholding to you?

434Shy. Signior Anthonio, many a time and oft

435In the Ryalto you haue rated me

436About my monies and my vsances:

437Still haue I borne it with a patient shrug,

438(For suffrance is the badge of all our Tribe.)

439You call me misbeleeuer, cut-throate dog,

440And spet vpon my Iewish gaberdine,

441And all for vse of that which is mine owne.

442Well then, it now appeares you neede my helpe:

443Goe to then, you come to me, and you say,

444Shylocke, we would haue moneyes, you say so:

445You that did voide your rume vpon my beard,

446And foote me as you spurne a stranger curre

447Ouer your threshold, moneyes is your suite.

448What should I say to you? Should I not say,

449Hath a dog money? Is it possible

450A curre should lend three thousand ducats? or

451Shall I bend low, and in a bond-mans key

452With bated breath, and whispring humblenesse,

453Say this: Faire sir, you spet on me on Wednesday last;

454You spurn'd me such a day; another time

455You cald me dog: and for these curtesies

456Ile lend you thus much moneyes.

457Ant. I am as like to call thee so againe,

458To spet on thee againe, to spurne thee too.

459If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not

460As to thy friends, for when did friendship take

461A breede of barraine mettall of his friend?

462But lend it rather to thine enemie,

463Who if he breake, thou maist with better face

464Exact the penalties.

465Shy. Why looke you how you storme,

466I would be friends with you, and haue your loue,

467Forget the shames that you haue staind me with,

468Supplie your present wants, and take no doite

469Of vsance for my moneyes, and youle not heare me,

470This is kinde I offer.

471Bass. This were kindnesse.

472Shy. This kindnesse will I showe,

473Goe with me to a Notarie, seale me there

474Your single bond, and in a merrie sport

475If you repaie me not on such a day,

476In such a place, such sum or sums as are

477Exprest in the condition, let the forfeite

478Be nominated for an equall pound

479Of your faire flesh, to be cut off and taken

480In what part of your bodie it pleaseth me.

481Ant. Content infaith, Ile seale to such a bond,

482And say there is much kindnesse in the Iew.

483Bass. You shall not seale to such a bond for me,

484Ile rather dwell in my necessitie.

485Ant. Why feare not man, I will not forfaite it,

486Within these two months, that's a month before

487This bond expires, I doe expect returne

488Of thrice three times the valew of this bond.

489Shy. O father Abram, what these Christians are,

490Whose owne hard dealings teaches them suspect

491The thoughts of others: Praie you tell me this,

492If he should breake his daie, what should I gaine

493By the exaction of the forfeiture?

494A pound of mans flesh taken from a man,

495Is not so estimable, profitable neither

496As flesh of Muttons, Beefes, or Goates, I say

497To buy his fauour, I extend this friendship,

498If he will take it, so: if not adiew,

499And for my loue I praie you wrong me not.

500Ant. Yes Shylocke, I will seale vnto this bond.

501Shy. Then meete me forthwith at the Notaries,

502Giue him direction for this merrie bond,

503And I will goe and purse the ducats straite.

504See to my house left in the fearefull gard

505Of an vnthriftie knaue: and presentlie

506Ile be with you. Exit.

507Ant. Hie thee gentle Iew. This Hebrew will turne

508Christian, he growes kinde.

509Bass. I like not faire teames, and a villaines minde.

510Ant. Come on, in this there can be no dismaie,

511My Shippes come home a month before the daie.

518 Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion,

519The shadowed liuerie of the burnisht sunne,

520To whom I am a neighbour, and neere bred.

521Bring me the fairest creature North-ward borne,

522Where Phoebus fire scarce thawes the ysicles,

523And let vs make incision for your loue,

524To proue whose blood is reddest, his or mine.

525I tell thee Ladie this aspect of mine

526Hath feard the valiant, (by my loue I sweare)

527The best regarded Virgins of our Clyme

528Haue lou'd it to: I would not change this hue,

529Except to steale your thoughts my gentle Queene.

530Por. In tearmes of choise I am not solie led

531By nice direction of a maidens eies:

532Besides, the lottrie of my destenie

533Bars me the right of voluntarie choosing:

534But if my Father had not scanted me,

535And hedg'd me by his wit to yeelde my selfe

536His wife, who wins me by that meanes I told you,

537Your selfe (renowned Prince) than stood as faire

538As any commer I haue look'd on yet

539For my affection.

540Mor. Euen for that I thanke you,

541Therefore I pray you leade me to the Caskets

542To trie my fortune: By this Symitare

543That slew the Sophie, and a Persian Prince

544That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,

545I would ore-stare the sternest eies that looke:

546Out-braue the heart most daring on the earth:

547Plucke the yong sucking Cubs from the she Beare,

548Yea, mocke the Lion when he rores for pray

549To win the Ladie. But alas, the while

550If Hercules and Lychas plaie at dice

551Which is the better man, the greater throw

552May turne by fortune from the weaker hand:

553So is Alcides beaten by his rage,

554And so may I, blinde fortune leading me

555Misse that which one vnworthier may attaine,

556And die with grieuing.

557Port. You must take your chance,

558And either not attempt to choose at all,

559Or sweare before you choose, if you choose wrong

560Neuer to speake to Ladie afterward

561In way of marriage, therefore be aduis'd.

562Mor. Nor will not, come bring me vnto my chance.

563Por. First forward to the temple, after dinner

564Your hazard shall be made.

565Mor. Good fortune then, Cornets.

566To make me blest or cursed'st among men. Exeunt.

568Clo. Certainely, my conscience will serue me to run

569from this Iew my Maister: the fiend is at mine elbow,

570and tempts me, saying to me, Iobbe, Launcelet Iobbe, good

571Launcelet, or good Iobbe, or good Launcelet Iobbe, vse

572your legs, take the start, run awaie: my conscience saies

573no; take heede honest Launcelet, take heed honest Iobbe,

574or as afore-said honest Launcelet Iobbe, doe not runne,

575scorne running with thy heeles; well, the most coragi-

576ous fiend bids me packe, fia saies the fiend, away saies

577the fiend, for the heauens rouse vp a braue minde saies

578the fiend, and run; well, my conscience hanging about

579the necke of my heart, saies verie wisely to me: my ho-

580nest friend Launcelet, being an honest mans sonne, or ra-

581ther an honest womans sonne, for indeede my Father did

582something smack, something grow too; he had a kinde of

583taste; wel, my conscience saies Lancelet bouge not, bouge

584saies the fiend, bouge not saies my conscience, conscience

585say I you counsaile well, fiend say I you counsaile well,

586to be rul'd by my conscience I should stay with the Iew

587my Maister, (who God blesse the marke) is a kinde of di-

588uell; and to run away from the Iew I should be ruled by

589the fiend, who sauing your reuerence is the diuell him-

590selfe: certainely the Iew is the verie diuell incarnation,

591and in my conscience, my conscience is a kinde of hard

592conscience, to offer to counsaile me to stay with the Iew;

593the fiend giues the more friendly counsaile: I will runne

594fiend, my heeles are at your commandement, I will

595runne.

597Gob. Maister yong-man, you I praie you, which is the

598waie to Maister Iewes?

599Lan. O heauens, this is my true begotten Father, who

600being more then sand-blinde, high grauel blinde, knows

601me not, I will trie confusions with him.

602Gob. Maister yong Gentleman, I praie you which is

603the waie to Maister Iewes.

604Laun. Turne vpon your right hand at the next tur-

605ning, but at the next turning of all on your left; marrie

606at the verie next turning, turne of no hand, but turn down

607indirectlie to the Iewes house.

608Gob. Be Gods sonties 'twill be a hard waie to hit, can

609you tell me whether one Launcelet that dwels with him,

610dwell with him or no.

611Laun. Talke you of yong Master Launcelet, marke

612me now, now will I raise the waters; talke you of yong

613Maister Launcelet?

614Gob. No Maister sir, but a poore mans sonne, his Fa-

615ther though I say't is an honest exceeding poore man,

616and God be thanked well to liue.

617Lan. Well, let his Father be what a will, wee talke of

618yong Maister Launcelet.

619Gob. Your worships friend and Launcelet.

620Laun. But I praie you ergo old man, ergo I beseech you,

621talke you of yong Maister Launcelet.

622Gob. Of Launcelet, ant please your maistership.

623Lan. Ergo Maister Lancelet, talke not of maister Lance-

624let Father, for the yong gentleman according to fates and

625destinies, and such odde sayings, the sisters three, & such

626branches of learning, is indeede deceased, or as you

627would say in plaine tearmes, gone to heauen.

628Gob. Marrie God forbid, the boy was the verie staffe

629of my age, my verie prop.

630Lau. Do I look like a cudgell or a houell-post, a staffe

631or a prop: doe you know me Father.

632Gob. Alacke the day, I know you not yong Gentle-

633man, but I praie you tell me, is my boy God rest his soule

634aliue or dead.

635Lan. Doe you not know me Father.

636Gob. Alacke sir I am sand blinde, I know you not.

637Lan. Nay, indeede if you had your eies you might

638faile of the knowing me: it is a wise Father that knowes

639his owne childe. Well, old man, I will tell you newes of

640your son, giue me your blessing, truth will come to light,

641murder cannot be hid long, a mans sonne may, but in the

642end truth will out.

643Gob. Praie you sir stand vp, I am sure you are not

644Lancelet my boy.

645Lan. Praie you let's haue no more fooling about

646it, but giue mee your blessing: I am Lancelet your

647boy that was, your sonne that is, your childe that

648shall be.

649Gob. I cannot thinke you are my sonne.

650Lan. I know not what I shall thinke of that: but I am

651Lancelet the Iewes man, and I am sure Margerie your wife

652is my mother.

653Gob. Her name is Margerie indeede, Ile be sworne if

654thou be Lancelet, thou art mine owne flesh and blood:

655Lord worshipt might he be, what a beard hast thou got;

656thou hast got more haire on thy chin, then Dobbin my

657philhorse has on his taile.

658Lan. It should seeme then that Dobbins taile

659growes backeward. I am sure he had more haire of his

660taile then I haue of my face when I lost saw him.

661Gob. Lord how art thou chang'd: how doost thou

662and thy Master agree, I haue brought him a present; how

663gree you now?

664Lan. Well, well, but for mine owne part, as I haue set

665vp my rest to run awaie, so I will not rest till I haue run

666some ground; my Maister's a verie Iew, giue him a pres-

667ent, giue him a halter, I am famisht in his seruice. You

668may tell euerie finger I haue with my ribs: Father I am

669glad you are come, giue me your present to one Maister

670Bassanio, who indeede giues rare new Liuories, if I serue

671not him, I will run as far as God has anie ground. O rare

672fortune, here comes the man, to him Father, for I am a

673Iew if I serue the Iew anie longer.

675Bass. You may doe so, but let it be so hasted that

676supper be readie at the farthest by fiue of the clocke:

677see these Letters deliuered, put the Liueries to mak-

678ing, and desire Gratiano to come anone to my lodg-

679ing.

680Lan. To him Father.

681Gob. God blesse your worship.

682Bass. Gramercie, would'st thou ought with me.

683Gob. Here's my sonne sir, a poore boy.

684Lan. Not a poore boy sir, but the rich Iewes man that

685would sir as my Father shall specifie.

686Gob. He hath a great infection sir, as one would say

687to serue.

688Lan. Indeede the short and the long is, I serue the

689Iew, and haue a desire as my Father shall specifie.

690Gob. His Maister and he (sauing your worships reue-

691rence) are scarce catercosins.

692Lan. To be briefe, the verie truth is, that the Iew

693hauing done me wrong, doth cause me as my Father be-

694ing I hope an old man shall frutifie vnto you.

695Gob. I haue here a dish of Doues that I would bestow

696vpon your worship, and my suite is.

697Lan. In verie briefe, the suite is impertinent to my

698selfe, as your worship shall know by this honest old man,

699and though I say it, though old man, yet poore man my

700Father.

701Bass. One speake for both, what would you?

702Lan. Serue you sir.

703Gob. That is the verie defect of the matter sir.

704Bass. I know thee well, thou hast obtain'd thy suite,

705Shylocke thy Maister spoke with me this daie,

706And hath prefer'd thee, if it be preferment

707To leaue a rich Iewes seruice, to become

708The follower of so poore a Gentleman.

709Clo. The old prouerbe is verie well parted betweene

710my Maister Shylocke and you sir, you haue the grace of

711God sir, and he hath enough.

712Bass. Thou speak'st it well; go Father with thy Son,

713Take leaue of thy old Maister, and enquire

714My lodging out, giue him a Liuerie

715More garded then his fellowes: see it done.

716Clo. Father in, I cannot get a seruice, no, I haue nere

717a tongue in my head, well: if anie man in Italie haue a

718fairer table which doth offer to sweare vpon a booke, I

719shall haue good fortune; goe too, here's a simple line

720of life, here's a small trifle of wiues, alas, fifteene wiues

721is nothing, a leuen widdowes and nine maides is a sim-

722ple comming in for one man, and then to scape drow-

723ning thrice, and to be in perill of my life with the edge

724of a featherbed, here are simple scapes: well, if Fortune

725be a woman, she's a good wench for this gere: Father

726come, Ile take my leaue of the Iew in the twinkling.

728Bass. I praie thee good Leonardo thinke on this,

729These things being bought and orderly bestowed

730Returne in haste, for I doe feast to night

731My best esteemd acquaintance, hie thee goe.

732Leon. My best endeuors shall be done herein. Exit Le.

734Gra. Where's your Maister.

735Leon. Yonder sir he walkes.

736Gra. Signior Bassanio.

737Bas. Gratiano.

738Gra. I haue a sute to you.

739Bass. You haue obtain'd it.

740Gra. You must not denie me, I must goe with you to

741Belmont.

742Bass. Why then you must: but heare thee Gratiano,

743Thou art to wilde, to rude, and bold of voyce,

744Parts that become thee happily enough,

745And in such eyes as ours appeare not faults;

746But where they are not knowne, why there they show

747Something too liberall, pray thee take paine

748To allay with some cold drops of modestie

749Thy skipping spirit, least through thy wilde behauiour

750I be misconsterd in the place I goe to,

751And loose my hopes.

752Gra. Signor Bassanio, heare me,

753If I doe not put on a sober habite,

754Talke with respect, and sweare but now and than,

755Weare prayer bookes in my pocket, looke demurely,

756Nay more, while grace is saying hood mine eyes

757Thus with my hat, and sigh and say Amen:

758Vse all the obseruance of ciuillitie

759Like one well studied in a sad ostent

760To please his Grandam, neuer trust me more.

761Bas. Well, we shall see your bearing.

762Gra. Nay but I barre to night, you shall not gage me

763By what we doe to night.

764Bas. No that were pittie,

765I would intreate you rather to put on

766Your boldest suite of mirth, for we haue friends

767That purpose merriment: but far you well,

768I haue some businesse.

769Gra. And I must to Lorenso and the rest,

770But we will visite you at supper time. Exeunt.

772Ies. I am sorry thou wilt leaue my Father so,

773Our house is hell, and thou a merrie diuell

774Did'st rob it of some taste of tediousnesse;

775But far thee well, there is a ducat for thee,

776And Lancelet, soone at supper shalt thou see

777Lorenzo, who is thy new Maisters guest,

778Giue him this Letter, doe it secretly,

779And so farwell: I would not haue my Father

780See me talke with thee.

781Clo. Adue, teares exhibit my tongue, most beautifull

782Pagan, most sweete Iew, if a Christian doe not play the

783knaue and get thee, I am much deceiued; but adue, these

784foolish drops doe somewhat drowne my manly spirit:

785adue. Exit.

786Ies. Farewell good Lancelet.

787Alacke, what hainous sinne is it in me

788To be ashamed to be my Fathers childe,

789But though I am a daughter to his blood,

790I am not to his manners: O Lorenzo,

791If thou keepe promise I shall end this strife,

792Become a Christian, and thy louing wife. Exit.

794Lor. Nay, we will slinke away in supper time,

795Disguise vs at my lodging, and returne all in an houre.

796Gra. We haue not made good preparation.

797Sal. We haue not spoke vs yet of Torch-bearers.

798Sol. 'Tis vile vnlesse it may be quaintly ordered,

799And better in my minde not vndertooke.

800Lor. 'Tis now but foure of clock, we haue two houres

801To furnish vs; friend Lancelet what's the newes.

803Lan. And it shall please you to breake vp this, shall it

804seeme to signifie.

805Lor. I know the hand, in faith 'tis a faire hand

806And whiter then the paper it writ on,

807I the faire hand that writ.

808Gra. Loue newes in faith.

809Lan. By your leaue sir.

810Lor. Whither goest thou?

811Lan. Marry sir to bid my old Master the Iew to sup

812to night with my new Master the Christian.

813Lor. Hold here, take this, tell gentle Iessica

814I will not faile her, speake it priuately:

815Go Gentlemen, will you prepare you for this Maske to

816night,

817I am prouided of a Torch-bearer. Exit. Clowne.

818Sal. I marry, ile be gone about it strait.

819Sol. And so will I.

820Lor. Meete me and Gratiano at Gratianos lodging

821Some houre hence.

822Sal. 'Tis good we do so. Exit.

823Gra. Was not that Letter from faire Iessica?

824Lor. I must needes tell thee all, she hath directed

825How I shall take her from her Fathers house,

826What gold and iewels she is furnisht with,

827What Pages suite she hath in readinesse:

828If ere the Iew her Father come to heauen,

829It will be for his gentle daughters sake;

830And neuer dare misfortune crosse her foote,

831Vnlesse she doe it vnder this excuse,

832That she is issue to a faithlesse Iew:

833Come goe with me, pervse this as thou goest,

834Faire Iessica shall be my Torch-bearer. Exit.

836Iew. Well, thou shall see, thy eyes shall be thy iudge,

837The difference of old Shylocke and Bassanio;

838What Iessica, thou shalt not gurmandize

839As thou hast done with me: what Iessica?

840And sleepe, and snore, and rend apparrell out.

841Why Iessica I say.

842Clo. Why Iessica.

843Shy. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call.

844Clo. Your worship was wont to tell me

845I could doe nothing without bidding.

847Ies. Call you? what is your will?

848Shy. I am bid forth to supper Iessica,

849There are my Keyes: but wherefore should I go?

850I am not bid for loue, they flatttr me,

851But yet Ile goe in hate, to feede vpon

852The prodigall Christian. Iessica my girle,

853Looke to my house, I am right loath to goe,

854There is some ill a bruing towards my rest,

855For I did dreame of money bags to night.

856Clo. I beseech you sir goe, my yong Master

857Doth expect your reproach.

858Shy. So doe I his.

859Clo. And they haue conspired together, I will not say

860you shall see a Maske, but if you doe, then it was not for

861nothing that my nose fell a bleeding on blacke monday

P last,

862last, at six a clocke ith morning, falling out that yeere on

863ashwensday was foure yeere in th' afternoone.

864Shy. What are their maskes? heare you me Iessica,

865Lock vp my doores, and when you heare the drum

866And the vile squealing of the wry-neckt Fife,

867Clamber not you vp to the casements then,

868Nor thrust your head into the publique streete

869To gaze on Christian fooles with varnisht faces:

870But stop my houses eares, I meane my casements,

871Let not the sound of shallow fopperie enter

872My sober house. By Iacobs staffe I sweare,

873I haue no minde of feasting forth to night:

874But I will goe: goe you before me sirra,

875Say I will come.

876Clo. I will goe before sir.

877Mistris looke out at window for all this;

878There will come a Christian by,

879Will be worth a Iewes eye.

880Shy. What saies that foole of Hagars off-spring?

881ha.

882Ies. His words were farewell mistris, nothing else.

883Shy. The patch is kinde enough, but a huge feeder:

884Snaile-slow in profit, but he sleepes by day

885More then the wilde-cat: drones hiue not with me,

886Therefore I part with him, and part with him

887To one that I would haue him helpe to waste

888His borrowed purse. Well Iessica goe in,

889Perhaps I will returne immediately;

890Doe as I bid you, shut dores after you, fast binde, fast

891finde,

892A prouerbe neuer stale in thriftie minde. Exit.

893Ies. Farewell, and if my fortune be not crost,

894I haue a Father, you a daughter lost. Exit.

896Gra. This is the penthouse vnder which Lorenzo

897Desired vs to make a stand.

898Sal. His houre is almost past.

899Gra. And it is meruaile he out-dwels his houre,

900For louers euer run before the clocke.

901Sal. O ten times faster Venus Pidgions flye

902To steale loues bonds new made, then they are wont

903To keepe obliged faith vnforfaited.

904Gra. That euer holds, who riseth from a feast

905With that keene appetite that he sits downe?

906Where is the horse that doth vntread againe

907His tedious measures with the vnbated fire,

908That he did pace them first: all things that are,

909Are with more spirit chased then enioy'd.

910How like a yonger or a prodigall

911The skarfed barke puts from her natiue bay,

912Hudg'd and embraced by the strumpet winde:

913How like a prodigall doth she returne

914With ouer-wither'd ribs and ragged sailes,

915Leane, rent, and begger'd by the strumpet winde?

917Salino. Heere comes Lorenzo, more of this here-

918after.

919Lor. Sweete friends, your patience for my long a-

920bode,

921Not I, but my affaires haue made you wait:

922When you shall please to play the theeues for wiues

923Ile watch as long for you then: approach

924Here dwels my father Iew. Hoa, who's within?

926Iess. Who are you? tell me for more certainty,

927Albeit Ile sweare that I do know your tongue.

928Lor. Lorenzo, and thy Loue.

929Ies. Lorenzo certaine, and my loue indeed,

930For who loue I so much? and now who knowes

931But you Lorenzo, whether I am yours?

932Lor. Heauen and thy thoughts are witness that thou

933art.

934Ies. Heere, catch this casket, it is worth the paines,

935I am glad 'tis night, you do not looke on me,

936For I am much asham'd of my exchange:

937But loue is blinde, and louers cannot see

938The pretty follies that themselues commit,

939For if they could, Cupid himselfe would blush

940To see me thus transformed to a boy.

941Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer.

942Ies. What, must I hold a Candle to my shames?

943They in themselues goodsooth are too too light.

944Why, 'tis an office of discouery Loue,

945And I should be obscur'd.

946Lor. So you are sweet,

947Euen in the louely garnish of a boy: but come at once,

948For the close night doth play the run-away,

949And we are staid for at Bassanio's feast.

950Ies. I will make fast the doores and guild my selfe

951With some more ducats, and be with you straight.

952Gra. Now by my hood, a gentle, and no Iew.

953Lor. Beshrew me but I loue her heartily.

954For she is wise, if I can iudge of her,

955And faire she is, if that mine eyes be true,

956And true she is, as she hath prou'd her selfe:

957And therefore like her selfe, wise, faire, and true,

958Shall she be placed in my constant soule.

960What, art thou come? on gentlemen, away,

961Our masking mates by this time for vs stay. Exit.

963Ant. Who's there?

964Gra. Signior Anthonio?

965Ant. Fie, fie, Gratiano, where are all the rest?

966'Tis nine a clocke, our friends all stay for you,

967No maske to night, the winde is come about,

968Bassanio presently will goe aboord,

969I haue sent twenty out to seeke for you.

970Gra. I am glad on't, I desire no more delight

971Then to be vnder saile, and gone to night. Exeunt.

973Por. Goe, draw aside the curtaines, and discouer

974The seuerall Caskets to this noble Prince:

975Now make your choyse.

976Mor. The first of gold, who this inscription beares,

977Who chooseth me, shall gaine what men desire.

978The second siluer, which this promise carries,

979Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserues.

980This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt,

981Who chooseth me, must giue and hazard all he hath.

982How shall I know if I doe choose the right?

983How shall I know if I doe choose the right.

984Por. The one of them containes my picture Prince,

985If you choose that, then I am yours withall.

986Mor. Some God direct my iudgement, let me see,

987I will suruay the inscriptions, backe againe:

988What saies this leaden casket?

989Who chooseth me, must giue and hazard all he hath.

990Must giue, for what? for lead, hazard for lead?

991This casket threatens men that hazard all

992Doe it in hope of faire aduantages:

993A golden minde stoopes not to showes of drosse,

994Ile then nor giue nor hazard ought for lead.

995What saies the Siluer with her virgin hue?

996Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserues.

997As much as he deserues; pause there Morocho,

998And weigh thy value with an euen hand,

999If thou beest rated by thy estimation

1000Thou doost deserue enough, and yet enough

1001May not extend so farre as to the Ladie:

1002And yet to be afeard of my deseruing,

1003Were but a weake disabling of my selfe.

1004As much as I deserue, why that's the Lady.

1005I doe in birth deserue her, and in fortunes,

1006In graces, and in qualities of breeding:

1007But more then these, in loue I doe deserue.

1008What if I strai'd no farther, but chose here?

1009Let's see once more this saying grau'd in gold.

1010Who chooseth me shall gaine what many men desire:

1011Why that's the Lady, all the world desires her:

1012From the foure corners of the earth they come

1013To kisse this shrine, this mortall breathing Saint.

1014The Hircanion deserts, and the vaste wildes

1015Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now

1016For Princes to come view faire Portia.

1017The waterie Kingdome, whose ambitious head

1018Spets in the face of heauen, is no barre

1019To stop the forraine spirits, but they come

1020As ore a brooke to see faire Portia.

1021One of these three containes her heauenly picture.

1022Is't like that Lead containes her? 'twere damnation

1023To thinke so base a thought, it were too grose

1024To rib her searecloath in the obscure graue:

1025Or shall I thinke in Siluer she's immur'd

1026Being ten times vndervalued to tride gold;

1027O sinfull thought, neuer so rich a Iem

1028Was set in worse then gold! They haue in England

1029A coyne that beares the figure of an Angell

1030Stampt in gold, but that's insculpt vpon:

1031But here an Angell in a golden bed

1032Lies all within. Deliuer me the key:

1033Here doe I choose, and thriue I as I may.

1034Por. There take it Prince, and if my forme lye there

1035Then I am yours.

1036Mor. O hell! what haue we here, a carrion death,

1037Within whose emptie eye there is a written scroule;

1038Ile reade the writing.

1039 All that glisters is not gold,

1040 Often haue you heard that told;

1041 Many a man his life hath sold

1042 But my outside to behold;

1043 Guilded timber doe wormes infold:

1044 Had you beene as wise as bold,

1045 Yong in limbs, in iudgement old,

1046 Your answere had not beene inscrold,

1047 Fareyouwell, your suite is cold,

1048Mor. Cold indeede, and labour lost,

1049Then farewell heate, and welcome frost:

1050Portia adew, I haue too grieu'd a heart

1051To take a tedious leaue: thus loosers part. Exit.

1052Por. A gentle riddance: draw the curtaines, go:

1053Let all of his complexion choose me so. Exeunt.

1056Sal. Why man I saw Bassanio vnder sayle,

1057With him is Gratiano gone along;

1058And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not.

1059Sol. The villaine Iew with outcries raisd the Duke.

1060Who went with him to search Bassanios ship.

1061Sal. He comes too late, the ship was vndersaile;

1062But there the Duke was giuen to vnderstand

1063That in a Gondilo were seene together

1064Lorenzo and his amorous Iessica.

1065Besides, Anthonio certified the Duke

1066They were not with Bassanio in his ship.

1067Sol. I neuer heard a passion so confusd,

1068So strange, outragious, and so variable,

1069As the dogge Iew did vtter in the streets;

1070My daughter, O my ducats, O my daughter,

1071Fled with a Christian, O my Christian ducats!

1072Iustice, the law, my ducats, and my daughter;

1073A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats,

1074Of double ducats, stolne from me by my daughter,

1075And iewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones,

1076Stolne by my daughter: iustice, finde the girle,

1077She hath the stones vpon her, and the ducats.

1078Sal. Why all the boyes in Venice follow him,

1079Crying his stones, his daughter, and his ducats.

1080Sol. Let good Anthonio looke he keepe his day

1081Or he shall pay for this.

1082Sal. Marry well remembred,

1083I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday,

1084Who told me, in the narrow seas that part

1085The French and English, there miscaried

1086A vessell of our countrey richly fraught:

1087I thought vpon Anthonio when he told me,

1088And wisht in silence that it were not his.

1089Sol. Yo were best to tell Anthonio what you heare.

1090Yet doe not suddainely, for it may grieue him.

1091Sal. A kinder Gentleman treads not the earth,

1092I saw Bassanio and Anthonio part,

1093Bassanio told him he would make some speede

1094Of his returne: he answered, doe not so,

1095Slubber not businesse for my sake Bassanio,

1096But stay the very riping of the time,

1097And for the Iewes bond which he hath of me,

1098Let it not enter in your minde of loue:

1099Be merry, and imploy your chiefest thoughts

1100To courtship, and such faire ostents of loue

1101As shall conueniently become you there;

1102And euen there his eye being big with teares,

1103Turning his face, he put his hand behinde him,

1104And with affection wondrous sencible

1105He wrung Bassanios hand, and so they parted.

1106Sol. I thinke he onely loues the world for him,

1107I pray thee let vs goe and finde him out

1108And quicken his embraced heauinesse

1109With some delight or other.

1110Sal. Doe we so. Exeunt.

1112Ner. Quick, quick I pray thee, draw the curtain strait,

P2 The

1113The Prince of Arragon hath tane his oath,

1114And comes to his election presently.

1117Por. Behold, there stand the caskets noble Prince,

1118If you choose that wherein I am contain'd,

1119Straight shall our nuptiall rights be solemniz'd:

1120But if thou faile, without more speech my Lord,

1121You must be gone from hence immediately.

1122Ar. I am enioynd by oath to obserue three things;

1123First, neuer to vnfold to any one

1124Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I faile

1125Of the right casket, neuer in my life

1126To wooe a maide in way of marriage:

1127Lastly, if I doe faile in fortune of my choyse,

1128Immediately to leaue you, and be gone.

1129Por. To these iniunctions euery one doth sweare

1130That comes to hazard for my worthlesse selfe.

1131Ar. And so haue I addrest me, fortune now

1132To my hearts hope: gold, siluer, and base lead.

1133Who chooseth me must giue and hazard all he hath.

1134You shall looke fairer ere I giue or hazard.

1135What saies the golden chest, ha, let me see:

1136Who chooseth me, shall gaine what many men desire:

1137What many men desire, that many may be meant

1138By the foole multitude that choose by show,

1139Not learning more then the fond eye doth teach,

1140Which pries not to th' interior, but like the Martlet

1141Builds in the weather on the outward wall,

1142Euen in the force and rode of casualtie.

1143I will not choose what many men desire,

1144Because I will not iumpe with common spirits,

1145And ranke me with the barbarous multitudes.

1146Why then to thee thou Siluer treasure house,

1147Tell me once more, what title thou doost beare;

1148Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserues:

1149And well said too; for who shall goe about

1150To cosen Fortune, and be honourable

1151Without the stampe of merrit, let none presume

1152To weare an vndeserued dignitie:

1153O that estates, degrees, and offices,

1154Were not deriu'd corruptly, and that cleare honour

1155Were purchast by the merrit of the wearer;

1156How many then should couer that stand bare?

1157How many be commanded that command?

1158How much low pleasantry would then be gleaned

1159From the true seede of honor? And how much honor

1160Pickt from the chaffe and ruine of the times,

1161To be new varnisht: Well, but to my choise.

1162Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserues.

1163I will assume desert; giue me a key for this,

1164And instantly vnlocke my fortunes here.

1165Por. Too long a pause for that which you finde there.

1166Ar. What's here, the portrait of a blinking idiot

1167Presenting me a scedule, I will reade it:

1168How much vnlike art thou to Portia?

1169How much vnlike my hopes and my deseruings?

1170Who chooseth me, shall haue as much as he deserues.

1171Did I deserue no more then a fooles head,

1172Is that my prize, are my deserts no better?

1173Por. To offend and iudge are distinct offices,

1174And of opposed natures.

1175Ar. What is here?

1176 The fier seauen times tried this,

1177 Seauen times tried that iudement is,

1178 That did neuer choose amis,

1179 Some there be that shadowes kisse,

1180 Such haue but a shadowes blisse:

1181 There be fooles aliue Iwis

1182 Siluer'd o're, and so was this:

1183 Take what wife you will to bed,

1184 I will euer be your head:

1185 So be gone, you are sped.

1186Ar. Still more foole I shall appeare

1187By the time I linger here,

1188With one fooles head I came to woo,

1189But I goe away with two.

1190Sweet adue, Ile keepe my oath,

1191Patiently to beare my wroath.

1192Por. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moath:

1193O these deliberate fooles when they doe choose,

1194They haue the wisdome by their wit to loose.

1195Ner. The ancient saying is no heresie,

1196Hanging and wiuing goes by destinie.

1197Por. Come draw the curtaine Nerrissa.

1199Mes. Where is my Lady?

1200Por. Here, what would my Lord?

1201Mes. Madam, there is a-lighted at your gate

1202A yong Venetian, one that comes before

1203To signifie th' approaching of his Lord,

1204From whom he bringeth sensible regreets;

1205To wit (besides commends and curteous breath)

1206Gifts of rich value; yet I haue not seene

1207So likely an Embassador of loue.

1208A day in Aprill neuer came so sweete

1209To show how costly Sommer was at hand,

1210As this fore-spurrer comes before his Lord.

1211Por. No more I pray thee, I am halfe a-feard

1212Thou wilt say anone he is some kin to thee,

1213Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him:

1214Come, come Nerryssa, for I long to see

1215Quicke Cupids Post, that comes so mannerly.

1216Ner. Bassanio Lord, loue if thy will it be. Exeunt.

1219Sol. Now, what newes on the Ryalto?

1220Sal. Why yet it liues there vncheckt, that Anthonio

1221hath a ship of rich lading wrackt on the narrow Seas; the

1222Goodwins I thinke they call the place, a very dangerous

1223flat, and fatall, where the carcasses of many a tall ship, lye

1224buried, as they say, if my gossips report be an honest wo-

1225man of her word.

1226Sol. I would she were as lying a gossip in that, as euer

1227knapt Ginger, or made her neighbours beleeue she wept

1228for the death of a third husband: but it is true, without

1229any slips of prolixity, or crossing the plaine high-way of

1230talke, that the good Anthonio, the honest Anthonio; ô that

1231I had a title good enough to keepe his name company!

1232Sal. Come, the full stop.

1233Sol. Ha, what sayest thou, why the end is, he hath lost

1234a ship.

1235Sal. I would it might proue the end of his losses.

1236Sol. Let me say Amen betimes, least the diuell crosse

1237my praier, for here he comes in the likenes of a Iew. How

1238now Shylocke, what newes among the Merchants?

1240Shy. You knew none so well, none so well as you, of

1241my daughters flight.

1242Sal. That's certaine, I for my part knew the Tailor

1243that made the wings she flew withall.

1244Sol. And Shylocke for his own part knew the bird was

1245fledg'd, and then it is the complexion of them al to leaue

1246the dam.

1247Shy. She is damn'd for it.

1248Sal. That's certaine, if the diuell may be her Iudge.

1249Shy. My owne flesh and blood to rebell.

1250Sol. Out vpon it old carrion, rebels it at these yeeres.

1251Shy. I say my daughter is my flesh and bloud.

1252Sal. There is more difference betweene thy flesh and

1253hers, then betweene Iet and Iuorie, more betweene your

1254bloods, then there is betweene red wine and rennish: but

1255tell vs, doe you heare whether Anthonio haue had anie

1256losse at sea or no?

1257Shy. There I haue another bad match, a bankrout, a

1258prodigall, who dare scarce shew his head on the Ryalto,

1259a begger that was vsd to come so smug vpon the Mart:

1260let him look to his bond, he was wont to call me Vsurer,

1261let him looke to his bond, he was wont to lend money

1262for a Christian curtsie, let him looke to his bond.

1263Sal. Why I am sure if he forfaite, thou wilt not take

1264his flesh, what's that good for?

1265Shy. To baite fish withall, if it will feede nothing

1266else, it will feede my reuenge; he hath disgrac'd me, and

1267hindred me halfe a million, laught at my losses, mockt at

1268my gaines, scorned my Nation, thwarted my bargaines,

1269cooled my friends, heated mine enemies, and what's the

1270reason? I am a Iewe: Hath not a Iew eyes? hath not a

1271Iew hands, organs, dementions, sences, affections, passi-

1272ons, fed with the same foode, hurt with the same wea-

1273pons, subiect to the same diseases, healed by the same

1274meanes, warmed and cooled by the same Winter and

1275Sommmer as a Christian is: if you pricke vs doe we not

1276bleede? if you tickle vs, doe we not laugh? if you poison

1277vs doe we not die? and if you wrong vs shall we not re-

1278uenge? if we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you

1279in that. If a Iew wrong a Christian, what is his humility,

1280reuenge? If a Christian wrong a Iew, what should his suf-

1281ferance be by Christian example, why reuenge? The vil-

1282lanie you teach me I will execute, and it shall goe hard

1283but I will better the instruction.

1285Gentlemen, my maister Anthonio is at his house, and

1286desires to speake with you both.

1287Sal. We haue beene vp and downe to seeke him.

1289Sol. Here comes another of the Tribe, a third cannot

1290be matcht, vnlesse the diuell himselfe turne Iew.

1292Shy. How now Tuball, what newes from Genowa? hast

1293thou found my daughter?

1294Tub. I often came where I did heare of ster, but can-

1295not finde her.

1296Shy. Why there, there, there, there, a diamond gone

1297cost me two thousand ducats in Franckford, the curse ne-

1298uer fell vpon our Nation till now, I neuer felt it till now,

1299two thousand ducats in that, and other precious, preci-

1300ous iewels: I would my daughter were dead at my foot,

1301and the iewels in her eare: would she were hearst at my

1302foote, and the duckets in her coffin: no newes of them,

1303why so? and I know not how much is spent in the search:

1304why thou losse vpon losse, the theefe gone with so

1305much, and so much to finde the theefe, and no satisfa-

1306ction, no reuenge, nor no ill luck stirring but what lights

1307a my shoulders, no sighes but a my breathing, no teares

1308but a my shedding.

1309Tub. Yes, other men haue ill lucke too, Anthonio as I

1310heard in Genowa?

1311Shy. What, what, what, ill lucke, ill lucke.

1312Tub. Hath an Argosie cast away comming from Tri-

1313polis.

1314Shy. I thanke God, I thanke God, is it true, is it true?

1315Tub. I spoke with some of the Saylers that escaped

1316the wracke.

1317Shy. I thanke thee good Tuball, good newes, good

1318newes: ha, ha, here in Genowa.

1319Tub. Your daughter spent in Genowa, as I heard, one

1320night fourescore ducats.

1321Shy. Thou stick'st a dagger in me, I shall neuer see my

1322gold againe, fourescore ducats at a sitting, fourescore du-

1323cats.

1324Tub. There came diuers of Anthonios creditors in my

1325company to Venice, that sweare hee cannot choose but

1326breake.

1327Shy. I am very glad of it, ile plague him, ile torture

1328him, I am glad of it,

1329Tub. One of them shewed me a ring that hee had of

1330your daughter for a Monkie.

1331Shy. Out vpon her, thou torturest me Tuball, it was

1332my Turkies, I had it of Leah when I was a Batcheler: I

1333would not haue giuen it for a wildernesse of Monkies.

1334Tub. But Anthonio is certainely vndone.

1335Shy. Nay, that's true, that's very true, goe Tuball, see

1336me an Officer, bespeake him a fortnight before, I will

1337haue the heart of him if he forfeit, for were he out of Ve-

1338nice, I can make what merchandize I will: goe Tuball,

1339and meete me at our Sinagogue, goe good Tuball, at our

1340Sinagogue Tuball. Exeunt.

1342Por. I pray you tarrie, pause a day or two

1343Before you hazard, for in choosing wrong

1344I loose your companie; therefore forbeare a while,

1345There's something tels me (but it is not loue)

1346I would not loose you, and you know your selfe,

1347Hate counsailes not in such a quallitie;

1348But least you should not vnderstand me well,

1349And yet a maiden hath no tongue, but thought,

1350I would detaine you here some month or two

1351Before you venture for me. I could teach you

1352How to choose right, but then I am forsworne,

1353So will I neuer be, so may you misse me,

1354But if you doe, youle make me wish a sinne,

1355That I had beene forsworne: Beshrow your eyes,

1356They haue ore-lookt me and deuided me,

1357One halfe of me is yours, the other halfe yours,

1358Mine owne I would say: but of mine then yours,

1359And so all yours; O these naughtie times

1360Puts bars betweene the owners and their rights.

1361And so though yours, not yours (proue it so)

1362Let Fortune goe to hell for it, not I.

1363I speake too long, but 'tis to peize the time,

1364To ich it, and to draw it out in length,

1365To stay you from election.

P3 Bass. Let

1366Bass. Let me choose,

1367For as I am, I liue vpon the racke.

1368Por. Vpon the racke Bassanio, then confesse

1369What treason there is mingled with your loue.

1370Bass. None but that vglie treason of mistrust.

1371Which makes me feare the enioying of my loue:

1372There may as well be amitie and life,

1373'Tweene snow and fire, as treason and my loue.

1374Por. I, but I feare you speake vpon the racke,

1375Where men enforced doth speake any thing.

1376Bass. Promise me life, and ile confesse the truth.

1377Por. Well then, confesse and liue.

1378Bass. Confesse and loue

1379Had beene the verie sum of my confession:

1380O happie torment, when my torturer

1381Doth teach me answers for deliuerance:

1382But let me to my fortune and the caskets.

1383Por. Away then, I am lockt in one of them,

1384If you doe loue me, you will finde me out.

1385Nerryssa and the rest, stand all aloofe,

1386Let musicke sound while he doth make his choise,

1387Then if he loose he makes a Swan-like end,

1388Fading in musique. That the comparison

1389May stand more proper, my eye shall be the streame

1390And watrie death-bed for him: he may win,

1391And what is musique than? Than musique is

1392Euen as the flourish, when true subiects bowe

1393To a new crowned Monarch: Such it is,

1394As are those dulcet sounds in breake of day,

1395That creepe into the dreaming bride-groomes eare,

1396And summon him to marriage. Now he goes

1397With no lesse presence, but with much more loue

1398Then yong Alcides, when he did redeeme

1399The virgine tribute, paied by howling Troy

1400To the Sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice,

1401The rest aloofe are the Dardanian wiues:

1402With bleared visages come forth to view

1403The issue of th' exploit: Goe Hercules,

1404Liue thou, I liue with much more dismay

1405I view the sight, then thou that mak'st the fray.

1409 Tell me where is fancie bred,

1410 Or in the heart, or in the head:

1411 How begot, how nourished. Replie, replie.

1412 It is engendred in the eyes,

1413 With gazing fed, and Fancie dies,

1414 In the cradle where it lies:

1415 Let vs all ring Fancies knell.

1416Ile begin it.

1417 Ding, dong, bell.

1419Bass. So may the outward showes be least themselues

1420The world is still deceiu'd with ornament.

1421In Law, what Plea so tanted and corrupt,

1422But being season'd with a gracious voice,

1423Obscures the show of euill? In Religion,

1424What damned error, but some sober brow

1425Will blesse it, and approue it with a text,

1426Hiding the grosenesse with faire ornament:

1427There is no voice so simple, but assumes

1428Some marke of vertue on his outward parts;

1429How manie cowards, whose hearts are all as false

1430As stayers of sand, weare yet vpon their chins

1431The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars,

1432Who inward searcht, haue lyuers white as milke,

1433And these assume but valors excrement,

1434To render them redoubted. Looke on beautie,

1435And you shall see 'tis purchast by the weight,

1436Which therein workes a miracle in nature,

1437Making them lightest that weare most of it:

1438So are those crisped snakie golden locks

1439Which makes such wanton gambols with the winde

1440Vpon supposed fairenesse, often knowne

1441To be the dowrie of a second head,

1442The scull that bred them in the Sepulcher.

1443Thus ornament is but the guiled shore

1444To a most dangerous sea: the beautious scarfe

1445Vailing an Indian beautie; In a word,

1446The seeming truth which cunning times put on

1447To intrap the wisest. Therefore then thou gaudie gold,

1448Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee,

1449Nor none of thee thou pale and common drudge

1450'Tweene man and man: but thou, thou meager lead

1451Which rather threatnest then dost promise ought,

1452Thy palenesse moues me more then eloquence,

1453And here choose I, ioy be the consequence.

1454Por. How all the other passions fleet to ayre,

1455As doubtfull thoughts, and rash imbrac'd despaire:

1456And shuddring feare, and greene-eyed iealousie.

1457O loue be moderate, allay thy extasie,

1458In measure raine thy ioy, scant this excesse,

1459I feele too much thy blessing, make it lesse,

1460For feare I surfeit.

1461Bas. What finde I here?

1462Faire Portias counterfeit. What demie God

1463Hath come so neere creation? moue these eies?

1464Or whether riding on the bals of mine

1465Seeme they in motion? Here are seuer'd lips

1466Parted with suger breath, so sweet a barre

1467Should sunder such sweet friends: here in her haires

1468The Painter plaies the Spider, and hath wouen

1469A golden mesh t'intrap the hearts of men

1470Faster then gnats in cobwebs: but her eies,

1471How could he see to doe them? hauing made one,

1472Me thinkes it should haue power to steale both his

1473And leaue it selfe vnfurnisht: Yet looke how farre

1474The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow

1475In vnderprising it, so farre this shadow

1476Doth limpe behinde the substance. Here's the scroule,

1477The continent, and summarie of my fortune.

1478 You that choose not by the view

1479 Chance as faire, and choose as true:

1480 Since this fortune fals to you,

1481 Be content, and seeke no new.

1482 If you be well pleasd with this,

1483 And hold your fortune for your blisse,

1484 Turne you where your Lady is,

1485 And claime her with a louing kisse.

1486Bass. A gentle scroule: Faire Lady, by your leaue,

1487I come by note to giue, and to receiue,

1488Like one of two contending in a prize

1489That thinks he hath done well in peoples eies:

1490Hearing applause and vniuersall shout,

1491Giddie in spirit, still gazing in a doubt

1492Whether those peales of praise be his or no.

1493So thrice faire Lady stand I euen so,

1494As doubtfull whether what I see be true,

1495Vntill confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you.

1496Por. You see my Lord Bassiano where I stand,

1497Such as I am; though for my selfe alone

1498I would not be ambitious in my wish,

1499To wish my selfe much better, yet for you,

1500I would be trebled twenty times my selfe,

1501A thousand times more faire, ten thousand times

1502More rich, that onely to stand high in your account,

1503I might in vertues, beauties, liuings, friends,

1504Exceed account: but the full summe of me

1505Is sum of nothing: which to terme in grosse,

1506Is an vnlessoned girle, vnschool'd, vnpractiz'd,

1507Happy in this, she is not yet so old

1508But she may learne: happier then this,

1509Shee is not bred so dull but she can learne;

1510Happiest of all, is that her gentle spirit

1511Commits it selfe to yours to be directed,

1512As from her Lord, her Gouernour, her King.

1513My selfe, and what is mine, to you and yours

1514Is now conuerted. But now I was the Lord

1515Of this faire mansion, master of my seruants,

1516Queene ore my selfe: and euen now, but now,

1517This house, these seruants, and this same my selfe

1518Are yours, my Lord, I giue them with this ring,

1519Which when you part from, loose, or giue away,

1520Let it presage the ruine of your loue,

1521And be my vantage to exclaime on you.

1522Bass. Maddam, you haue bereft me of all words,

1523Onely my bloud speakes to you in my vaines,

1524And there is such confusion in my powers,

1525As after some oration fairely spoke

1526By a beloued Prince, there doth appeare

1527Among the buzzing pleased multitude,

1528Where euery something being blent together,

1529Turnes to a wilde of nothing, saue of ioy

1530Exprest, and not exprest: but when this ring

1531Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence,

1532O then be bold to say Bassanio's dead.

1533Ner. My Lord and Lady, it is now our time

1534That haue stood by and seene our wishes prosper,

1535To cry good ioy, good ioy my Lord and Lady.

1536Gra. My Lord Bassanio, and my gentle Lady,

1537I wish you all the ioy that you can wish:

1538For I am sure you can wish none from me:

1539And when your Honours meane to solemnize

1540The bargaine of your faith: I doe beseech you

1541Euen at that time I may be married too.

1542Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.

1543Gra. I thanke your Lordship, you gaue got me one.

1544My eyes my Lord can looke as swift as yours:

1545You saw the mistres, I beheld the maid:

1546You lou'd, I lou'd for intermission,

1547No more pertaines to me my Lord then you;

1548Your fortune stood vpon the caskets there,

1549And so did mine too, as the matter falls:

1550For wooing heere vntill I swet againe,

1551And swearing till my very rough was dry

1552With oathes of loue, at last, if promise last,

1553I got a promise of this faire one heere

1554To haue her loue: prouided that your fortune

1555Atchieu'd her mistresse.

1556Por. Is this true Nerrissa?

1557Ner. Madam it is so, so you stand pleas'd withall.

1558Bass. And doe you Gratiano meane good faith?

1559Gra. Yes faith my Lord.

1560Bass. Our feast shall be much honored in your mar-

1561riage.

1562Gra. Weele play with them the first boy for a thou-

1563sand ducats.

1564Ner. What and stake downe?

1565Gra. No, we shal nere win at that sport, and stake

1566downe.

1567But who comes heere? Lorenzo and his Infidell?

1568What and my old Venetian friend Salerio?

1570Bas. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hether,

1571If that the youth of my new interest heere

1572Haue power to bid you welcome: by your leaue

1573I bid my verie friends and Countrimen

1574Sweet Portia welcome.

1575Por. So do I my Lord, they are intirely welcome.

1576Lor. I thanke your honor; for my part my Lord,

1577My purpose was not to haue seene you heere,

1578But meeting with Salerio by the way,

1579He did intreate mee past all saying nay

1580To come with him along.

1581Sal. I did my Lord,

1582And I haue reason for it, Signior Anthonio

1583Commends him to you.

1584Bass. Ere I ope his Letter

1585I pray you tell me how my good friend doth.

1586Sal. Not sicke my Lord, vnlesse it be in minde,

1587Nor wel, vnlesse in minde: his Letter there

1588Wil shew you his estate.

1590Gra. Nerrissa, cheere yond stranger, bid her welcom.

1591Your hand Salerio, what's the newes from Venice?

1592How doth that royal Merchant good Anthonio;

1593I know he vvil be glad of our successe,

1594We are the Iasons, we haue won the fleece.

1595Sal. I would you had won the fleece that hee hath

1596lost.

1597Por. There are some shrewd contents in yond same

1598Paper,

1599That steales the colour from Bassianos cheeke,

1600Some deere friend dead, else nothing in the world

1601Could turne so much the constitution

1602Of any constant man. What, worse and worse?

1603With leaue Bassanio I am halfe your selfe,

1604And I must freely haue the halfe of any thing

1605That this same paper brings you.

1606Bass. O sweet Portia,

1607Heere are a few of the vnpleasant'st words

1608That euer blotted paper. Gentle Ladie

1609When I did first impart my loue to you,

1610I freely told you all the wealth I had

1611Ran in my vaines: I was a Gentleman,

1612And then I told you true: and yet deere Ladie,

1613Rating my selfe at nothing, you shall see

1614How much I was a Braggart, when I told you

1615My state was nothing, I should then haue told you

1616That I vvas worse then nothing: for indeede

1617I haue ingag'd my selfe to a deere friend,

1618Ingag'd my friend to his meere enemie

1619To feede my meanes. Heere is a Letter Ladie,

1620The paper as the bodie of my friend,

1621And euerie word in it a gaping wound

1622Issuing life blood. But is it true Salerio,

1623Hath all his ventures faild, what not one hit,

1624From Tripolis, from Mexico and England,

1625From Lisbon, Barbary, and India,

1626And not one vessell scape the dreadfull touch

1627Of Merchant-marring rocks?

1628Sal. Not one my Lord.

1629Besides, it should appeare, that if he had

1630The present money to discharge the Iew,

1631He would not take it: neuer did I know

1632A creature that did beare the shape of man

1633So keene and greedy to confound a man.

1634He plyes the Duke at morning and at night,

1635And doth impeach the freedome of the state

1636If they deny him iustice. Twenty Merchants,

1637The Duke himselfe, and the Magnificoes

1638Of greatest port haue all perswaded with him,

1639But none can driue him from the enuious plea

1640Of forfeiture, of iustice, and his bond.

1641Iessi. When I was with him, I haue heard him sweare

1642To Tuball and to Chus, his Countri-men,

1643That he would rather haue Anthonio's flesh,

1644Then twenty times the value of the summe

1645That he did owe him: and I know my Lord,

1646If law, authoritie, and power denie not,

1647It will goe hard with poore Anthonio.

1648Por. Is it your deere friend that is thus in trouble?

1649Bass. The deerest friend to me, the kindest man,

1650The best condition'd, and vnwearied spirit

1651In doing curtesies: and one in whom

1652The ancient Romane honour more appeares

1653Then any that drawes breath in Italie.

1654Por. What summe owes he the Iew?

1655Bass. For me three thousand ducats.

1656Por. What, no more?

1657Pay him sixe thousand, and deface the bond:

1658Double sixe thousand, and then treble that,

1659Before a friend of this description

1660Shall lose a haire through Bassano's fault.

1661First goe with me to Church, and call me wife,

1662And then away to Venice to your friend:

1663For neuer shall you lie by Portias side

1664With an vnquiet soule. You shall haue gold

1665To pay the petty debt twenty times ouer.

1666When it is payd, bring your true friend along,

1667My maid Nerrissa, and my selfe meane time

1668Will liue as maids and widdowes; come away,

1669For you shall hence vpon your wedding day:

1670Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheere,

1671Since you are deere bought, I will loue you deere.

1672But let me heare the letter of your friend.

1673 Sweet Bassanio, my ships haue all miscarried, my Credi-

1674tors grow cruell, my estate is very low, my bond to the Iew is

1675forfeit, and since in paying it, it is impossible I should liue, all

1676debts are cleerd betweene you and I, if I might see you at my

1677death: notwithstanding, vse your pleasure, if your loue doe not

1678perswade you to come, let not my letter.

1679Por. O loue! dispach all busines and be gone.

1680Bass. Since I haue your good leaue to goe away,

1681I will make hast; but till I come againe,

1682No bed shall ere be guilty of my stay,

1683Nor rest be interposer twixt vs twaine. Exeunt.

1686Iew. Iaylor, looke to him, tell not me of mercy,

1687This is the foole that lends out money gratis.

1688Iaylor, looke to him.

1689Ant. Heare me yet good Shylok.

1690Iew. Ile haue my bond, speake not against my bond,

1691I haue sworne an oath that I will haue my bond:

1692Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause,

1693But since I am a dog, beware my phangs,

1694The Duke shall grant me iustice, I do wonder

1695Thou naughty Iaylor, that thou art so fond

1696To come abroad with him at his request.

1697Ant. I pray thee heare me speake.

1698Iew. Ile haue my bond, I will not heare thee speake,

1699Ile haue my bond, and therefore speake no more.

1700Ile not be made a soft and dull ey'd foole,

1701To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yeeld

1702To Christian intercessors: follow not,

1703Ile haue no speaking, I will haue my bond. Exit Iew.

1704Sol. It is the most impenetrable curre

1705That euer kept with men.

1706Ant. Let him alone,

1707Ile follow him no more with bootlesse prayers:

1708He seekes my life, his reason well I know;

1709I oft deliuer'd from his forfeitures

1710Many that haue at times made mone to me,

1711Therefore he hates me.

1712Sol. I am sure the Duke will neuer grant

1713this forfeiture to hold.

1714An. The Duke cannot deny the course of law:

1715For the commoditie that strangers haue

1716With vs in Venice, if it be denied,

1717Will much impeach the iustice of the State,