![The Works of William Shakespeare [Cambridge Edition] [Vol. 2 of 9] cover](/books/content/45128/OEBPS/6578110653187431148_cover.jpg)
Por. Go draw aside the curtains, and discover
The several caskets to this noble prince.
Now make your choice.
Mor. The first, of gold, who this inscription bears,
005 ‘Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire;’
The second, silver, which this promise carries,
‘Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves;’
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt,
‘Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.’
010 How shall I know if I do choose the right?
Por. The one of them contains my picture, prince:
012 If you choose that, then I am yours withal.
Mor. Some god direct my judgment! Let me see;
I will survey the inscriptions back again.
015 What says this leaden casket?
‘Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.’
Must give,—for what? for lead? hazard for lead?
018 This casket threatens. Men that hazard all
Do it in hope of fair advantages:
020 A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross;
021 I’ll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead.
What says the silver with her virgin hue?
‘Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.’
024 As much as he deserves! Pause there, Morocco,
025 And weigh thy value with an even hand:
026 If thou be’st rated by thy estimation,
Thou dost deserve enough; and yet enough
May not extend so far as to the lady:
029 And yet to be afeard of my deserving
030 Were but a weak disabling of myself.
As much as I deserve! Why, that’s the lady:
I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes,
In graces and in qualities of breeding;
034 But more than these, in love I do deserve.
035 What if I stray’d no further, but chose here?
Let’s see once more this saying graved in gold;
‘Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.’
Why, that’s the lady; all the world desires her;
From the four corners of the earth they come,
040 To kiss this shrine, this mortal-breathing saint:
041 The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds
Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now
For princes to come view fair Portia:
The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head
045 Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar
To stop the foreign spirits; but they come,
As o’er a brook, to see fair Portia.
One of these three contains her heavenly picture.
Is’t like that lead contains her? ’Twere damnation
050 To think so base a thought: it were too gross
051 To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave.
Or shall I think in silver she’s immured,
Being ten times undervalued to tried gold?
O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem
055 Was set in worse than gold. They have in England
A coin that bears the figure of an angel
057 Stamped in gold, but that’s insculp’d upon;
But here an angel in a golden bed
Lies all within. Deliver me the key:
060 Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may!
Por. There, take it, prince; and if my form lie there,
062 Then I am yours. [He unlocks the golden casket.
O hell! what have we here?
A carrion Death, within whose empty eye
064 There is a written scroll! I’ll read the writing. [Reads.
065 All that glisters is not gold;
Often have you heard that told:
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold:
069 Gilded tombs do worms infold.
070 Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgment old,
072 Your answer had not been inscroll’d:
Fare you well; your suit is cold.
Cold, indeed; and labour lost:
075 Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost!
Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart
077 To take a tedious leave: thus losers part. [Exit with his train. Flourish of cornets.
Por. A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go.
Let all of his complexion choose me so. [Exeunt.
000 Scene VIII. Venice. A street.
TMOV II. 8 Enter Salarino and Salanio.
Salar. Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail:
With him is Gratiano gone along;
And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not.
Salan. The villain Jew with outcries raised the Duke,
005 Who went with him to search Bassanio’s ship.
006 Salar. He came too late, the ship was under sail:
But there the Duke was given to understand
008 That in a gondola were seen together
009 Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica:
010 Besides, Antonio certified the Duke
They were not with Bassanio in his ship.
Salan. I never heard a passion so confused,
So strange, outrageous, and so variable,
As the dog Jew did utter in the streets:
015 ‘My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter!
Fled with a Christian! O my Christian ducats!
Justice! the law! my ducats, and my daughter!
A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats,
Of double ducats, stolen from me by my daughter!
020 And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones,
Stolen by my daughter! Justice! find the girl!
She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats!’
Salar. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him,
Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats.
025 Salan. Let good Antonio look he keep his day,
Or he shall pay for this.
Marry, well remember’d.
I reason’d with a Frenchman yesterday,
Who told me, in the narrow seas that part
The French and English, there miscarried
030 A vessel of our country richly fraught:
I thought upon Antonio when he told me;
And wish’d in silence that it were not his.
Salan. You were best to tell Antonio what you hear;
034 Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him.
035 Salar. A kinder gentleman treads not the earth.
I saw Bassanio and Antonio part:
Bassanio told him he would make some speed
Of his return: he answer’d, ‘Do not so;
039 Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio,
040 But stay the very riping of the time;
And for the Jew’s bond which he hath of me,
042 Let it not enter in your mind of love:
043 Be merry; and employ your chiefest thoughts
To courtship, and such fair ostents of love
045 As shall conveniently become you there:’
And even there, his eye being big with tears,
Turning his face, he put his hand behind him,
And with affection wondrous sensible
He wrung Bassanio’s hand; and so they parted.
050 Salan. I think he only loves the world for him.
I pray thee, let us go and find him out,
052 And quicken his embraced heaviness
With some delight or other.
Do we so. [Exeunt.
000 Scene IX. Belmont. A room in Portia’s house.
TMOV II. 9 Enter Nerissa with a Servitor.
Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee; draw the curtain straight:
The Prince of Arragon hath ta’en his oath,
003 And comes to his election presently.
Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Arragon, Portia, and their trains.
Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince:
005 If you choose that wherein I am contain’d,
Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemnized:
007 But if you fail, without more speech, my lord,
You must be gone from hence immediately.
Ar. I am enjoin’d by oath to observe three things:
010 First, never to unfold to any one
Which casket ’twas I chose; next, if I fail
Of the right casket, never in my life
013 To woo a maid in way of marriage:
Lastly,
015 If I do fail in fortune of my choice,
Immediately to leave you and be gone.
Por. To these injunctions every one doth swear
That comes to hazard for my worthless self.
019 Ar. And so have I address’d me. Fortune now
020 To my heart’s hope! Gold; silver; and base lead.
‘Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.’
022 You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard.
What says the golden chest? ha! let me see:
‘Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.’
025 What many men desire! that ‘many’ may be meant
026 By the fool multitude, that choose by show,
Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach;
028 Which pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet,
Builds in the weather on the outward wall,
030 Even in the force and road of casualty.
I will not choose what many men desire,
Because I will not jump with common spirits,
033 And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.
Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house;
035 Tell me once more what title thou dost bear:
‘Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves:’
And well said too; for who shall go about
To cozen fortune, and be honourable
039 Without the stamp of merit? Let none presume
040 To wear an undeserved dignity.
O, that estates, degrees and offices
042 Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honour
Were purchased by the merit of the wearer!
How many then should cover that stand bare!
045 How many be commanded that command!
046 How much low peasantry would then be glean’d
From the true seed of honour! and how much honour
048 Pick’d from the chaff and ruin of the times,
049 To be new-varnish’d! Well, but to my choice:
050 ‘Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.’
051 I will assume desert. Give me a key for this,
052 And instantly unlock my fortunes here. [He opens the silver casket.
Por. Too long a pause for that which you find there.
Ar. What’s here? the portrait of a blinking idiot,
055 Presenting me a schedule! I will read it.
How much unlike art thou to Portia!
057 How much unlike my hopes and my deservings!
058 ‘Who chooseth me shall have as much as he deserves.’
Did I deserve no more than a fool’s head?
060 Is that my prize? are my deserts no better?
Por. To offend, and judge, are distinct offices,
And of opposed natures.
062 What is here? [Reads]
The fire seven times tried this;
064 Seven times tried that judgement is,
065 That did never choose amiss.
Some there be that shadows kiss;
Such have but a shadow’s bliss:
068 There be fools alive, I wis,
Silver’d o’er; and so was this.
070 Take what wife you will to bed,
I will ever be your head:
072 So be gone: you are sped.
073 Still more fool I shall appear
By the time I linger here:
075 With one fool’s head I came to woo,
But I go away with two.
Sweet, adieu. I’ll keep my oath,
078 Patiently to bear my wroth. [Exeunt Arragon and train.
079 Por. Thus hath the candle singed the moth.
080 O, these deliberate fools! when they do choose,
081 They have the wisdom by their wit to lose.
Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy,
083 Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
084 Por. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. Where is my lady?
085 Here: what would my lord?
Serv. Madam, there is alighted at your gate
A young Venetian, one that comes before
To signify the approaching of his lord;
From whom he bringeth sensible regreets,
090 To wit, besides commends and courteous breath,
Gifts of rich value. Yet I have not seen
So likely an ambassador of love:
A day in April never came so sweet,
To show how costly summer was at hand,
095 As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord.
096 Por. No more, I pray thee: I am half afeard
097 Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee,
Thou spend’st such high-day wit in praising him.
Come, come, Nerissa; for I long to see
100 Quick Cupid’s post that comes so mannerly.
101 Ner. Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be! [Exeunt.
ACT III.
Scene I. Venice. A street.
TMOV III. 1 Enter Salanio and Salarino.
Salan. Now, what news on the Rialto?
Salar. Why, yet it lives there unchecked, that Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wrecked on the narrow seas; the Goodwins, I think they call the place; a very dangerous flat 005 and fatal, where the carcases of many a tall ship lie buried, 006 as they say, if my gossip Report be an honest woman of her word.
008 Salan. I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever knapped ginger, or made her neighbours believe she wept 010 for the death of a third husband. But it is true, without any slips of prolixity, or crossing the plain highway of talk, 012 that the good Antonio, the honest Antonio,——O that I had a title good enough to keep his name company!—
Salar. Come, the full stop.
015 Salan. Ha! what sayest thou? Why, the end is, he hath lost a ship.
Salar. I would it might prove the end of his losses.
Salan. Let me say ‘amen’ betimes, lest the devil cross 019 my prayer, for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew.
Enter Shylock.
020 How now, Shylock! what news among the merchants?
021 Shy. You knew, none so well, none so well as you, of my daughter’s flight.
Salar. That’s certain: I, for my part, knew the tailor that made the wings she flew withal.
025 Salan. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird 026 was fledged; and then it is the complexion of them all to leave the dam.
Shy. She is damned for it.
Salar. That’s certain, if the devil may be her judge.
030 Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel!
031 Salar. Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it at these years?
032 Shy. I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood.
Salar. There is more difference between thy flesh and hers than between jet and ivory; more between your bloods 035 than there is between red wine and rhenish. But tell us, do 036 you hear whether Antonio have had any loss at sea or no?
037 Shy. There I have another bad match: a bankrupt, a 038 prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto; a 039 beggar, that was used to come so smug upon the mart; let 040 him look to his bond: he was wont to call me usurer; let him look to his bond: he was wont to lend money for a Christian courtesy; let him look to his bond.
Salar. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his flesh: what’s that good for?
045 Shy. To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered 047 me half a million; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my 049 friends, heated mine enemies; and what’s his reason? I am 050 a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same 053 diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the 054 same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick 055 us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? if we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is 059 his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what 060 should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why, revenge. The villany you teach me, I will execute; and it 062 shall go hard but I will better the instruction.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house, and desires to speak with you both.
065 Salar. We have been up and down to seek him.
Enter Tubal.
Salan. Here comes another of the tribe: a third cannot 067 be matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew. [Exeunt Salan. Salar. and Servant.
068 Shy. How now, Tubal! what news from Genoa? hast thou found my daughter?
070 Tub. I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot find her.
Shy. Why, there, there, there, there! a diamond gone, cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort! The curse never fell upon our nation till now; I never felt it till now: two 075 thousand ducats in that; and other precious, precious jewels. I would my daughter were dead at my foot, and the 077 jewels in her ear! would she were hearsed at my foot, and 078 the ducats in her coffin! No news of them? Why, so:— 079 and I know not what’s spent in the search: why, thou loss 080 upon loss! the thief gone with so much, and so much to find the thief; and no satisfaction, no revenge: nor no ill 082 luck stirring but what lights on my shoulders; no sighs but of my breathing; no tears but of my shedding.
Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too: Antonio, as I 085 heard in Genoa,—
086 Shy. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck?
Tub. Hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis.
088 Shy. I thank God, I thank God! Is’t true, is’t true?
Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the 090 wreck.
091 Shy. I thank thee, good Tubal: good news, good 092 news! ha, ha! where? in Genoa?
093 Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, in one night fourscore ducats.
095 Shy. Thou stickest a dagger in me: I shall never see my gold again: fourscore ducats at a sitting! fourscore ducats.
Tub. There came divers of Antonio’s creditors in my 099 company to Venice, that swear he cannot choose but break.
100 Shy. I am very glad of it: I’ll plague him; I’ll torture 101 him: I am glad of it.
Tub. One of them showed me a ring that he had of your daughter for a monkey.
Shy. Out upon her! Thou torturest me, Tubal: it 105 was my turquoise; I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor: I would not have given it for a wilderness of monkeys.
Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone.
108 Shy. Nay, that’s true, that’s very true. Go, Tubal, fee me an officer; bespeak him a fortnight before. I will 110 have the heart of him, if he forfeit; for, were he out of 111 Venice, I can make what merchandise I will. Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue; go, good Tubal; at our synagogue, Tubal. [Exeunt.
000 Scene II. Belmont. A room in Portia’s house.
TMOV III. 2 Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, Nerissa, and Attendants.
001 Por. I pray you, tarry: pause a day or two
Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong,
003 I lose your company: therefore forbear awhile.
There’s something tells me, but it is not love,
005 I would not lose you; and you know yourself,
Hate counsels not in such a quality.
But lest you should not understand me well,—
And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,—
I would detain you here some month or two
010 Before you venture for me. I could teach you
011 How to choose right, but I am then forsworn;
So will I never be: so may you miss me;
But if you do, you’ll make me wish a sin,
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes,
015 They have o’er-look’d me, and divided me;
016 One half of me is yours, the other half yours.
017 Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,
018 And so all yours! O, these naughty times
019 Put bars between the owners and their rights!
020 And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so,
021 Let fortune go to hell for it, not I.
022 I speak too long; but ’tis to peize the time,
023 To eke it and to draw it out in length,
To stay you from election.
Let me choose;
025 For as I am, I live upon the rack.
Por. Upon the rack, Bassanio! then confess
What treason there is mingled with your love.
Bass. None but that ugly treason of mistrust,
Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love:
030 There may as well be amity and life
’Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love.
Por. Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack,
033 Where men enforced do speak any thing.
Bass. Promise me life, and I’ll confess the truth.
Por. Well then, confess and live.
035 ‘Confess,’ and ‘love,’
Had been the very sum of my confession:
O happy torment, when my torturer
Doth teach me answers for deliverance!
But let me to my fortune and the caskets.
040 Por. Away, then! I am lock’d in one of them:
If you do love me, you will find me out.
Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof.
Let music sound while he doth make his choice;
044 Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end,
045 Fading in music: that the comparison
046 May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream,
And watery death-bed for him. He may win;
And what is music then? Then music is
Even as the flourish when true subjects bow
050 To a new-crowned monarch: such it is
As are those dulcet sounds in break of day
That creep into the dreaming bridegroom’s ear,
And summon him to marriage. Now he goes,
054 With no less presence, but with much more love,
055 Than young Alcides, when he did redeem
The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy
To the sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice;
The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives,
With bleared visages, come forth to view
060 The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules!
061 Live thou, I live: with much much more dismay
062 I view the fight than thou that makest the fray.
Music, whilst Bassanio comments on the caskets to himself.
Song.
063 Tell me where is fancy bred,
Or in the heart or in the head?
065 How begot, how nourished?
066 Reply, reply.
067 It is engender’d in the eye,
With gazing fed; and fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies.
070 Let us all ring fancy’s knell;
071 I’ll begin it,—Ding, dong, bell.
All. Ding, dong, bell.
Bass. So may the outward shows be least themselves:
The world is still deceived with ornament.
075 In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,
But, being seasoned with a gracious voice,
Obscures the show of evil? In religion,
What damned error, but some sober brow
Will bless it, and approve it with a text,
080 Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?
081 There is no vice so simple, but assumes
082 Some mark of virtue on his outward parts:
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins
085 The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars;
Who, inward search’d, have livers white as milk;
And these assume but valour’s excrement
To render them redoubted! Look on beauty,
And you shall see ’tis purchased by the weight;
090 Which therein works a miracle in nature,
Making them lightest that wear most of it:
So are those crisped snaky golden locks
093 Which make such wanton gambols with the wind,
Upon supposed fairness, often known
095 To be the dowry of a second head,
The skull that bred them in the sepulchre.
097 Thus ornament is but the guiled shore
To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf
099 Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word,
100 The seeming truth which cunning times put on
101 To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold,
102 Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee;
103 Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge
’Tween man and man: but thou, thou meagre lead,
105 Which rather threatenest than dost promise aught,
106 Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence;
And here choose I: joy be the consequence!
Por. [Aside] 108 How all the other passions fleet to air,
As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced despair,
110 And shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy!
111 O love, be moderate; allay thy ecstasy;
112 In measure rein thy joy; scant this excess!
I feel too much thy blessing: make it less,
114 For fear I surfeit!
What find I here? [Opening the leaden casket.
115 Fair Portia’s counterfeit! What demi-god
Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes?
117 Or whether, riding on the balls of mine,
Seem they in motion? Here are sever’d lips,
119 Parted with sugar breath: so sweet a bar
120 Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs
The painter plays the spider, and hath woven
122 A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men,
Faster than gnats in cobwebs: but her eyes,—
How could he see to do them? having made one,
125 Methinks it should have power to steal both his
126 And leave itself unfurnish’d. Yet look, how far
The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow
In underprizing it, so far this shadow
Doth limp behind the substance. Here’s the scroll,
130
The continent and summary of my fortune.
[Reads]
You that choose not by the view,
Chance as fair, and choose as true!
Since this fortune falls to you,
Be content and seek no new.
135 If you be well pleased with this,
And hold your fortune for your bliss,
Turn you where your lady is,
And claim her with a loving kiss.
A gentle scroll. Fair lady, by your leave;
140 I come by note, to give and to receive.
Like one of two contending in a prize,
That thinks he hath done well in people’s eyes,
Hearing applause and universal shout,
144 Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt
145 Whether those peals of praise be his or no;
So, thrice-fair lady, stand I, even so;
As doubtful whether what I see be true,
Until confirm’d, sign’d, ratified by you.
149 Por. You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand,
150 Such as I am: though for myself alone
I would not be ambitious in my wish,
To wish myself much better; yet, for you
I would be trebled twenty times myself;
154 A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times
155 More rich;
156 That only to stand high in your account,
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,
Exceed account; but the full sum of me
159 Is sum of something, which, to term in gross,
160 Is an unlesson’d girl, unschool’d, unpractised;
Happy in this, she is not yet so old
162 But she may learn; happier than this,
She is not bred so dull but she can learn;
164 Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit
165 Commits itself to yours to be directed,
As from her lord, her governor, her king.
Myself and what is mine to you and yours
168 Is now converted: but now I was the lord
169 Of this fair mansion, master of my servants,
170 Queen o’er myself; and even now, but now,
This house, these servants, and this same myself,
172 Are yours, my lord: I give them with this ring;
Which when you part from, lose, or give away,
Let it presage the ruin of your love,
175 And be my vantage to exclaim on you.
Bass. Madam, you have bereft me of all words,
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins;
And there is such confusion in my powers,
As, after some oration fairly spoke
180 By a beloved prince, there doth appear
Among the buzzing pleased multitude;
Where every something, being blent together,
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy,
Express’d and not express’d. But when this ring
185 Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence:
186 O, then be bold to say Bassanio’s dead!
Ner. My lord and lady, it is now our time,
That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper,
To cry, good joy: good joy, my lord and lady!
190 Gra. My Lord Bassanio and my gentle lady,
I wish you all the joy that you can wish;
For I am sure you can wish none from me:
And when your honours mean to solemnize
The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you,
195 Even at that time I may be married too.
Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.
197 Gra. I thank your lordship, you have got me one.
My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours:
You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid;
200 You loved, I loved for intermission.
No more pertains to me, my lord, than you.
202 Your fortune stood upon the casket there,
And so did mine too, as the matter falls;
204 For wooing here until I sweat again,
205 And swearing till my very roof was dry
With oaths of love, at last, if promise last,
I got a promise of this fair one here
To have her love, provided that your fortune
Achieved her mistress.
Is this true, Nerissa?
210 Ner. Madam, it is, so you stand pleased withal.
Bass. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith?
Gra. Yes, faith, my lord.
Bass. Our feast shall be much honour’d in your marriage.
Gra. We’ll play with them the first boy for a thousand 215 ducats.
Ner. What, and stake down?
Gra. No; we shall ne’er win at that sport, and stake down.
220 But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel?
221 What, and my old Venetian friend Salerio?
Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salerio, a Messenger from Venice.
Bass. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither;
If that the youth of my new interest here
Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave,
225 I bid my very friends and countrymen,
Sweet Portia, welcome.
So do I, my lord:
They are entirely welcome.
Lor. I thank your honour. For my part, my lord,
My purpose was not to have seen you here;
230 But meeting with Salerio by the way,
He did entreat me, past all saying nay,
To come with him along.
232 I did, my lord;
And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio
234 Commends him to you. [Gives Bassanio a letter.
Ere I ope his letter,
235 I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth.
Saler. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind;
Nor well, unless in mind: his letter there
238 Will show you his estate.
239 Gra. Nerissa, cheer yon stranger; bid her welcome.
240 Your hand, Salerio: what’s the news from Venice?
How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio?
I know he will be glad of our success;
We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece.
244 Saler. I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost.
245 Por. There are some shrewd contents in yon same paper,
246 That steals the colour from Bassanio’s cheek:
Some dear friend dead; else nothing in the world
Could turn so much the constitution
Of any constant man. What, worse and worse!
250 With leave, Bassanio; I am half yourself,
251 And I must freely have the half of any thing
That this same paper brings you.
O sweet Portia,
Here are a few of the unpleasant’st words
That ever blotted paper! Gentle lady,
255 When I did first impart my love to you,
I freely told you, all the wealth I had
Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman;
And then I told you true: and yet, dear lady,
Rating myself at nothing, you shall see
260 How much I was a braggart. When I told you
My state was nothing, I should then have told you
That I was worse than nothing; for, indeed,
I have engaged myself to a dear friend,
Engaged my friend to his mere enemy,
265 To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady;
266 The paper as the body of my friend,
And every word in it a gaping wound,
Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio?
269 Have all his ventures fail’d? What, not one hit?
270 From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England,
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India?
272 And not one vessel scape the dreadful touch
Of merchant-marring rocks?
Not one, my lord.
Besides, it should appear, that if he had
275 The present money to discharge the Jew,
He would not take it. Never did I know
A creature, that did bear the shape of man,
So keen and greedy to confound a man:
He plies the Duke at morning and at night;
280 And doth impeach the freedom of the state,
If they deny him justice: twenty merchants,
The Duke himself, and the magnificoes
Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him;
But none can drive him from the envious plea
285 Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond.
Jes. When I was with him I have heard him swear
To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen,
That he would rather have Antonio’s flesh
Than twenty times the value of the sum
290 That he did owe him: and I know, my lord,
If law, authority and power deny not,
It will go hard with poor Antonio.
Por. Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble?
Bass. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man,
295 The best-condition’d and unwearied spirit
In doing courtesies; and one in whom
The ancient Roman honour more appears
Than any that draws breath in Italy.
Por. What sum owes he the Jew?
Bass. For me three thousand ducats.
300 What, no more?
Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond;
Double six thousand, and then treble that,
303 Before a friend of this description
304 Shall lose a hair through Bassanio’s fault.
305 First go with me to church and call me wife,
And then away to Venice to your friend;
For never shall you lie by Portia’s side
With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold
To pay the petty debt twenty times over:
310 When it is paid, bring your true friend along.
My maid Nerissa and myself meantime
Will live as maids and widows. Come, away!
For you shall hence upon your wedding-day:
314 Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer:
315 Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear.
But let me hear the letter of your friend.
Bass. [reads] 317 Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all miscarried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low, my bond to the Jew is forfeit; and since in paying it, it is impossible I should live, all 320 debts are cleared between you and I, if I might but see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your pleasure: if your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter.
323 Por. O love, dispatch all business, and be gone!
Bass. Since I have your good leave to go away,
325 I will make haste: but, till I come again,
No bed shall e’er be guilty of my stay,
327 No rest be interposer ’twixt us twain. [Exeunt.