Author: William ShakespeareEditor: Janelle JenstadNot Peer Reviewed
The Merchant of Venice (Folio 1, 1623)
170The Merchant of Venice.
862la
st, at
six a clocke ith morning, falling out that yeere on
863a
shwen
sday was foure yeere in th' afternoone.
864Shy. What are their ma
skes? 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 ca
sements then,
868Nor thru
st your head into the publique
streete
869To gaze on Chri
stian fooles with varni
sht faces:
870But
stop my hou
ses eares, I meane my ca
sements,
871Let not the
sound of
shallow fopperie enter
872My
sober hou
se. By
Iacobs sta
ffe I
sweare,
873I haue no minde of fea
sting forth to night:
874But I will goe: goe you before me
sirra,
876Clo. I will goe before
sir.
877Mi
stris looke out at window for all this;
878There will come a Chri
stian by,
879Will be worth a Iewes eye.
880Shy. What
saies that foole of
Hagars o
ff-
spring?
882Ies. His words were farewell mi
stris, nothing el
se.
883Shy. The patch is kinde enough, but a huge feeder:
884Snaile-
slow in pro
fit, 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 wa
ste
888His borrowed pur
se. Well
Iessica goe in,
889Perhaps I will returne immediately;
890Doe as I bid you,
shut dores after you, fa
st binde, fa
st 892A prouerbe neuer
stale in thriftie minde.
Exit. 893Ies. Farewell, and if my fortune be not cro
st,
894I haue a Father, you a daughter lo
st.
Exit.
895Enter the Maskers, Gratiano and Salino.
896Gra. This is the penthou
se vnder which
Lorenzo 897De
sired vs to make a
stand.
898Sal. His houre is almo
st pa
st.
899Gra. And it is meruaile he out-dwels his houre,
900For louers euer run before the clocke.
901Sal. O ten times fa
ster
Venus Pidgions
flye
902To
steale loues bonds new made, then they are wont
903To keepe obliged faith vnforfaited.
904Gra. That euer holds, who ri
seth from a fea
st 905With that keene appetite that he
sits downe?
906Where is the hor
se that doth vntread againe
907His tedious mea
sures with the vnbated
fire,
908That he did pace them
fir
st: all things that are,
909Are with more
spirit cha
sed 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
- 919Lor. Sweete friends, your patience for my long a
- 921Not I, but my a
ffaires haue made you wait:
922When you
shall plea
se 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
934Ies. Heere, catch this ca
sket, it is worth the paines,
935I am glad 'tis night, you do not looke on me,
936For I am much a
sham'd of my exchange:
937But loue is blinde, and louers cannot
see
938The pretty follies that them
selues commit,
939For if they could,
Cupid him
selfe would blu
sh 940To
see me thus tran
sformed to a boy.
941Lor. De
scend, for you mu
st be my torch-bearer.
942Ies. What, mu
st I hold a Candle to my
shames?
943They in them
selues good
sooth are too too light.
944Why, 'tis an o
ffice of di
scouery Loue,
945And I
should be ob
scur'd.
946Lor. So you are
sweet,
947Euen in the louely garni
sh of a boy: but come at once,
948For the clo
se night doth play the run-away,
949And we are
staid for at
Bassanio's fea
st.
950Ies. I will make fa
st 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. Be
shrew me but I loue her heartily.
954For
she is wi
se, 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, wi
se, faire, and true,
958Shall
she be placed in my con
stant
soule.
960What, art thou come? on gentlemen, away,
961Our ma
sking mates by this time for vs
stay.
Exit.
964Gra. Signior
Anthonio? 965Ant. Fie,
fie,
Gratiano, where are all the re
st?
966'Tis nine a clocke, our friends all
stay for you,
967No ma
ske to night, the winde is come about,
968Bassanio pre
sently will goe aboord,
969I haue
sent twenty out to
seeke for you.
970Gra. I am glad on't, I de
sire no more delight
971Then to be vnder
saile, and gone to night.
Exeunt.
972Enter Portia with Morrocho, and both their traines.
973Por. Goe, draw a
side the curtaines, and di
scouer
974The
seuerall Ca
skets to this noble Prince:
976Mor. The
fir
st of gold, who this in
scription beares,
977Who choo
seth me,
shall gaine what men de
sire.
978The
second
siluer, which this promi
se carries,
979Who choo
seth me,
shall get as much as he de
serues.
980This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt,
981Who choo
seth me, mu
st giue and hazard all he hath.
982How
shall I know if I doe choo
se the right?
Por. The