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SONG and DANCE.
Obe. Now, until the break of day,

Through this house each fairy stray.
To the best bride-bed will we,
Which by us shall blessed be:
And the issue there create,
Ever shall be fortunate.
So shall all the couples three
Ever true in loving be;

And the blots of nature's hand
Shall not in their issue stand;
Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar,
Nor mark prodigious, such as are
Despised in nativity,

Shall upon their children be.
With this field-dew consecrate,
Every fairy take his gait ;

And each several chamber bless,

Through this palace with sweet peace;

Ever shall in safety rest,

And the owner of it blest.

Trip away;

Make no stay:

Meet me all by break of day.

[Exeunt Oberon, Titania, and train.
Puck. If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, (and all is mended,)
That you have but slumber'd here,
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend;
If you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If he have unearned luck

Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends, ere long:
Else the Puck a liar call.

So, good night unto you all.

Give me your hands, if we be friends. And Robin shall restore amends.

[Exit.

[blocks in formation]

SCENE I.-Venice. A Street.
Enter Antonio, Salarino, and Solanio.
Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad;
It wearies me; you say, it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff 't is made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn;

And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.
Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean;
There, where your argosies with portly sail,
Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood,
Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea,
Do overpeer the petty traffickers,

That curt'sy to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.
Solan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth,
The better part of my affections would
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind;
Peering in maps, for ports, and piers, and roads;
And every object that might make me fear
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt,
Would make me sad.

Salar.
My wind, cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great might do at sea.
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
But I should think of shallows and of flats;
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand,
Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs,
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church,
And see the holy edifice of stone,

And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks,
Which, touching but my gentle vessel's side,
Would scatter all her spices on the stream;
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks;
And, in a word, but even now worth this,
And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought

|PORTIA, a rich heiress. NERISSA, her waiting-maid. JESSICA, daughter to Shylock. Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, Gaoler, Servants,and other Attendants. SCENE,-Partly at VENICE; and partly at BELMONT, the Seat of PORTIA, on the Continent.

To think on this; and shall I lack the thought
That such a thing, bechanc'd, would make me sad?
But tell not me; I know Antonio

Is sad to think upon his merchandize.

Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it, My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate Upon the fortune of this present year: Therefore, my merchandize makes me not sad. Salar. Why then you are in love.

Ant.

Fye, fye! Salar. Not in love neither? Then let us say, you are sad

Because you are not merry: an 't were as easy
For you to laugh, and leap, and say you are merry,
Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus,
Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time:
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,
And laugh, like parrots, at a bagpiper:
And other of such vinegar aspect,
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.

Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano. Solan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman,

Gratiano, and Lorenzo: Fare you well;
We leave you now with better company.
Salar. I would have staid till I had made you merry,
If worthier friends had not prevented me.
Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard.
I take it, your own business calls on you,
And you embrace the occasion to depart.
Salar. Good-morrow, my good lords.
Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh?
Say, when?

You grow exceeding strange: Must it be so?
Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours.
[Exeunt Salarino and Solanio.
Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found An-
[tonio,
We two will leave you; but at dinner-time

I pray you have in mind where we must meet.
Bass. I will not fail you.

Gra. You look not well, signior Antonio;
You have too much respect upon the world:
They lose it that do buy it with much care.
Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd.
Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano;
A stage, where every man must play a part,
And mine a sad one.

Gra.

Let me play the Fool:
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come;
And let my liver rather heat with wine,
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why should a man whose blood is warm within
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?

Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice
By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,-
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks ;-
There are a sort of men, whose visages
Do cream and mantle like a standing pond;
And do a wilful stillness entertain,
With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;
As who should say, I am Sir Oracle,
And when I ope my lips let no dog bark!'
O, my Antonio, I do know of these,
That therefore only are reputed wise
For saying nothing; who, I am very sure,

If they should speak, would almost damn those ears
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools.
I'll tell thee more of this another time:
But fish not with this melancholy bait,
For this fool gudgeon, this opinion.
Come, good Lorenzo:-Fare ye well, a while;
I'll end my exhortation after dinner.

Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner-time:
I must be one of these same dumb wise men,
For Gratiano never lets me speak.

Gra. Well, keep me company but two years more,
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.
Ant. Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear.
Gra. Thanks, i' faith; for silence is only com-
mendable

In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible.
[Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo.
Ant. Is that any thing now?
Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing,
more than any man in all Venice: His reasons are
two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff;
you shall seek all day ere you find them; and when
you have them they are not worth the search.

Ant. Well; tell me now, what lady is the same
To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,
That you to-day promis'd to tell me of?
Bass. T is not unknown to you, Antonio,
How much I have disabled mine estate,
By something showing a more swelling port
Than my faint means would grant continuance:
Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd
From such a noble rate; but my chief care
Is to come fairly off from the great debts
Wherein my time, something too prodigal,
Hath left me gaged: To you, Antonio,
I owe the most in money and in love;
And from your love I have a warranty
To unburthen all my plots and purposes,

How to get clear of all the debts I owe.

Ant. You know me well; and herein spend but
To wind about my love with circumstance; [time,
And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong
In making question of my uttermost,
Than if you had made waste of all I have.
Then do but say to me what I should do,
That in your knowledge may by me be done,
And I am prest unto it: therefore speak.
Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left,
And she is fair, and, fairer than that word,
Of wond'rous virtues. Sometimes from her eyes
I did receive fair speechless messages:
Her name is Portia; nothing undervalued
To Cato's daughter, Brutus" Portia.
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth;
For the four winds blow in from every coast
Renowned suitors: and her sunny locks
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece;
Which makes her seat of Belmont, Colchos' strand
And many Jasons come in quest of her.
O, my Antonio! had I but the means
To hold a rival place with one of them,
I have a mind presages me such thrift,
That I should questionless be fortunate.
Ant. Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea;
Neither have I money, nor commodity
To raise a present sun: therefore go forth,
Try what my credit can in Venice do;
That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost,
To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia.
Go, presently inquire, and so will I,
Where money is; and I no question make,
To have it of my trust, or for my sake.
SCENE II.-Belmont. A Room in Portia's House.
Enter Portia and Nerissa.
Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is a-
weary of this great world.

[Exeunt.

Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are: And yet, for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nohing: It is no small happiness, therefore, to be seated in the mean: superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer. Por. Good sentences, and well pronounced. Ner. They would be better, if well followed. Por. If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions: I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may devise laws for the blood; but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree: such a hare is madness the youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good council the cripple. But this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me a husband:-O me, the word choose! I may neither choose whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curb'd by the will of a dead father:-Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none?

Ner. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men at their death have good inspirations; therefore, the lottery that he hath devised in these three chests, of gold, silver, and lead, (whereof who chooses his meaning chooses you,) will, no doubt, never be

Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; chosen by any rightly, but one who you shall rightly

And, if it stand, as you yourself still do,

Within the eye of honour, be assur'd
My purse, my person, my extremest means,
Líe all unlock'd to your occasions.

Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft
I shot his fellow of the self-same flight
The self-same way, with more advised watch

To find the other forth; and by adventuring both
1 oft found both: I urge this childhood proof,
Because what follows is pure innocence.
I owe you much; and, like a wilful youth,
That which I owe is lost: but if you please
To shoot another arrow that self way
Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,
As I will watch the aim, or to find both
Or bring your latter hazard back again,
And thankfully rest debtor for the first.

love. But what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these princely suitors that are already come?

Por. I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou namest them I will describe them; and according to my description level at my affection. Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince.

Por. Ay, that's a colt, indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse; and he makes it a great appropriation to his own good parts that he can shoe him himself: I am much afraid my lady his mother played false with a smith.

Ner. Then, is there the county Palatine.

Por. He doth nothing but frown; as who should say, 'An you will not have me, choose:' he hears merry tales, and smiles not: I fear he will prove the weeping philosopher when he grows old, being so

K

full of unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had
rather to be married to a death's head with a bone
in his mouth, than to either of these. God defend
ine from these two!
[Le Bon?
Ner. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur
Por. God made him, and therefore let him pass for
a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker.
But, he! why, he hath a horse better than the Nea-
politan's; a better bad habit of frowning than the
count Palatine: he is every man in no man; if a
throstle sing, he falls straight a capering; he will
fence with his own shadow: if I should marry him I
should marry twenty husbands: If he would despise
me I would forgive him; for if he love me to mad-
Ner. What say you then to Faulconbridge, the
young baron of England?
Por. You know I say nothing to him; for he un-
derstands not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latin,
French, nor Italian; and you will come into the
court and swear that I have a poor pennyworth in
the English. He is a proper man's picture. But,
alas! who can converse with a dumb show? How
oddly he is suited! I think he bought his doublet in
Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Ger-
many, and his behaviour everywhere.

ness I shall never requite him.

Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour?

Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him; for he borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman, and swore he would pay him again when he was able: I think the Frenchman became his surety, Ner. How like you the young German, the duke of Saxony's nephew?

and sealed under for another.

Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober; and most vilely in the afternoon, when is drunk: when he is best he is a little worse than a man; and when he is worst he is little better than a beast: an the worst fall that ever fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without him.

Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right casket, you should refuse to perform your father's will if you should refuse to accept him. Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary casket: for, if the devil be within, and that temptation without, I know he will choose it. I will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I will be married to a sponge. Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of these lords; they have acquainted me with their determinations: which is, indeed, to return to their home and to trouble you with no more suit; unless you may be won by some other sort than your father's imposition, depending on the caskets. Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla I will die as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner of my father's will: I am glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonable; for there is not one among them but I dote on his very absence, and I wish them a fair departure.

SCENE III.-Venice. A public Place. Enter Bassanio and Shylock. Shy. Three thousand ducats,-well. Bass. Ay, sir, for three months. [be bound. Shy. For three months,-well. Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall Shy. Antonio shall become bound,-well. Bass. May you stead me? Will you pleasure me? Shall I know your answer? Shy. Three thousand ducats, for three months, and Antonio bound. [trary? Shy. Antonio is a good man. Shy. Oh no, no, no, no ;-my meaning in saying he Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the conis a good man is, to have you understand me that he is sufficient: yet his means are in supposition: he hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies; I understand moreover upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England; and other ventures he hath, squander'd abroad. But ships are but boards, sailors but men: there be land-rats and water-rats, water-thieves and landthieves; I mean, pirates; and then, there is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks: The man is, notwithstanding, sufficient ;- three thousand ducats;-I think I may take his bond.

Bass. Your answer to that.

Bass. Be assured you may.

Shy. I will be assured I may; and that I may be assured I will bethink me: May I speak with An[tonio? Bass. If it please you to dine with us. which your prophet, the Nazarite, conjured the Shy. Yes, to smell pork; to cat of the habitation devil into! I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so following; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with you.-What news on the Rialto? Who is he comes here?

Enter Antonio.

Bass. This is signior Antonio.
Shy. [Aside.] How like a fawning publican he
I hate him for he is a Christian:
flooks!
But more, for that, in low simplicity,
He lends out money gratis, and brings down
The rate of usance here with us in Venice.
If I can catch him once upon the hip,
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
He hates our sacred nation; and he rails,
Even there where merchants most do congregate,
On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift,
Which he calls interest: Cursed be my tribe
If I forgive him! Bass. Shylock, do you hear?
Shy. I am debating of my present store:
And, by the near guess of my memory,
I cannot instantly raise up the gross
Of full three thousand ducats: What of that?
Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe,
Will furnish me: But soft: How many months
Do you desire?-Rest you fair, good signior:

[To Antonio.

Your worship was the last man in our mouths.
Ant. Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor borrow,
By taking, nor by giving of excess,

Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's
time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, that
came hither in company of the Marquis of Mont-Yet, to supply the right wants of my friend,
ferrat?
[he called. I'll break a custom-Is he yet possess'd
Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think so was How much you would?
Ner. True, madam; he, of all the men that ever
my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving
a fair lady.

Por. I remember him well; and I remember him
worthy of thy praise.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. The four strangers seek you, madam, to
take their leave: and there is a fore-runner come
from a fifth, the prince of Morocco; who brings
word the prince, his master, will be here to-night.
Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good
heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I should
be glad of his approach: if he have the condition
of a saint, and the complexion of a devil, I had
rather he should shrive me than wive me.
Come, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before.
Whiles we shut the gate upon one wooer, another
knocks at the door.
[Exeunt.

Shy.
Ay, ay, three thousand ducats.
Ant. And for three months.
Shy. I had forgot,-three months, you told me so.
Well then, your bond; and, let me see. But hear you:
Methought you said, you neither lend nor borrow,
Upon advantage. Ant. I do never use it.
Shy. When Jacob graz'd his uncle Laban's sheep,
This Jacob from our holy Abraham was
(As his wise mother wrought in his behalf)
The third possessor; ay, he was the third,
Ant. And what of him? did he take interest?
Shy. No, not take interest; not, as you would say,
Directly interest: mark what Jacob did.
When Laban and himself were compromis'd
That all the eanlings which were streak'd and pied
Should fall, as Jacob's hire; the ewes, being rank,
In end of autumn turned to the rams:
And when the work of generation was
Between these woolly breeders in the act,

The skilful shepherd pill'd me certain wands,
And, in the doing of the deed of kind,
He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes;
Who then conceiving, did in eaning-time
Fall particolour'd lambs, and those were Jacob's.
This was a way to thrive, and he was blest;
And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not.

Ant. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob serv'd for;
A thing not in his power to bring to pass,
But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heaven.
Was this inserted to make interest good?
Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams?
Shy. I cannot tell; I make it breed as fast:
But note me, signior.
Art.

Mark you this, Bassanio,
The devil can cite scripture for his purpose.
An evil soul producing holy witness
Is like a villain with a smiling check;
A goodly apple rotten at the heart;

[suin.

O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!
Sky. Three thousand ducats,-'t is a good round
Three months from twelve, then let me see the rate.
Ant. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholden to you?
Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft
la the Rialto you have rated me
About my monies, and my usances:
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug;
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe:
You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog,
And spet upon my Jewish gaberdine,
And all for use of that which is mine own.
Well then, it now appears you need my help:
Go to then; you come to me, and you say,
Shylock, we would have monies; You say so;
You that did void your rheum upon my beard,
And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cur
Over your threshold; monies is your suit.
What should I say to you? Should I not say,
'Hath a dog money? is it possible

A cur can lend three thousand ducats?' or
Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key,
With 'bated breath, and whispering humbleness,
Say this,-

Fair sir, you spet on me on Wednesday last;
You spurn'd me such a day; another time
You call'd me dog; and for these courtesies
Il lend you thus much monies?'

Ant. I am as like to call thee so again,
To spet on thee again, to spurn thee too.

If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not

As to thy friends; (for when did friendship take

A breed of barren metal of his friend?)
But lend it rather to thine enemy;

Who, if he break, thou may'st with better face
Exact the penalties.

Shy.
Why, look you, how you storm!
I would be friends with you, and have your love;
Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with;
Supply your present wants, and take no doit
Ofusance for my monies, and you 'll not hear me:
This is kind I offer. Bass. This were kindness.
Shy. This kindness will I show:

Go with me to a notary: seal me there
Your single bond; and, in a merry sport,
If you repay me not on such a day,

In such a place, such sum, or suns, as are
Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit
Be nominated for an equal pound

Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken
In what part of your body pleaseth me.
Ant. Content, in faith; I'll seal to such a bond,
And say there is much kindness in the Jew.

Bass. You shall not seal to such a bond for me;
Il rather dwell in my necessity.

Ant. Why, fear not, man; I will not forfeit it;
Within these two months, that's a month before
This bond expires, I do expect return
Of thrice three times the value of this bond.
Shy. O father Abraham, what these Christians are,
Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect
The thoughts of others! Pray you, tell me this;
If he should break his day, what should I gain
By the exaction of the forfeiture?

A pound of man's flesh, taken from a man,
Is not so estimable, profitable neither,

As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say,
To buy his favour I extend this friendship;
If he will take it, so; if not, adieu;
And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not.
Ant. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond.
Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's;
Give him direction for this merry bond,
And I will go and purse the ducats straight;
See to my house, left in the fearful guard
Of an unthrifty knave; and presently
I will be with you.
Ant.

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Hie thee, gentle Jew. This Hebrew will turn Christian; he grows kind. Bass. I like not fair terms and a villain's mind. Ant. Come on; in this there can be no dismay, My ships come home a month before the day. [x. ACT II.

SCENE I.-Belmont. A Room in Portia's House.
Flourish of Cornets. Enter the Prince of Morocco,
and his Train; Portia, Nerissa, and other of her
Attendants.

Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion,
The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun,
To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred.
Bring me the fairest creature northward born,
Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles,
And let us make incision for your love,
To prove whose blood is reddest, his, or mine.
I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine
Hath fear'd the valiant; by my love, I swear,
The best-regarded virgins of our clime
Have lov'd it too: I would not change this hue,
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen.
Por. In terms of choice I am not solely led
By nice direction of a maiden's eyes:
Besides, the lottery of my destiny
Bars me the right of voluntary choosing:
But, if my father had not scanted me,
And hedg'd me by his wit, to yield myself
His wife who wins me by that means I told you,
Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair
As any comer I have look'd on yet,
For my affection.

Mor.
Even for that I thank you;
Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets,
To try my fortune. By this scimitar,
That slew the Sophy, and a Persian prince
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,

I would o'er-stare the sternest eyes that look,
Out-brave the heart most daring on the earth,
Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she bear,
Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey,
To win thee, lady: But, alas the while!
If Hercules and Lichas play at dice
Which is the better man, the greater throw
May turn by fortune from the weaker hand:
So is Alcides beaten by his page;

And so may I, blind fortune leading me,
Miss that which one unworthier may attain,
And die with grieving.

Por.
You must take your chance;
And either not attempt to choose at all,
Or swear, before you choose,-if you choose wrong,
Never to speak to lady afterward

In way of marriage; therefore be advis'd.
Mor. Nor will not; come, bring me unto my chance.
Por. First, forward to the temple; after dinner
Your hazard shall be made.

Mor.
Good fortune then! [Cornets.
To make me blest or cursed'st among men.
[Exc.

SCENE II.-Venice. A Street.

Enter Launcelot Gobbo. Laun. Certainly my conscience will serve me to run from this Jew, my master: The fiend is at mine elbow, and tempts me; saying to me, Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot, or good Gobbo, or good Launcelot Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away :-My conscience says,-no; take heed, honest Launcelot; take heed, honest Gobbo; or (as aforesaid) honest Launcelot Gobbo; do not run: scorn running with thy heels: Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack. Via! says the

132

How dost

fiend; away! says the fiend, for the heavens; rouse Laun. It should seem then that Dobbin's tail up a brave mind, says the fiend, and run. Well, my grows backward; I am sure he had more hair of his conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, tail than I have of my face, when I last saw him. says very wisely to me,-my honest friend, Launce- Gob. Lord, how art thou changed! lot, being an honest man's son, or rather an hon-thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a est woman's son ;-for, indeed, my father did some- present. How 'gree you now? thing smack, something grow to, he had a kind of Laun. Well, well; but for mine own part, as I taste;-well, my conscience says, Launcelot, budge have set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest not: budge, says the fiend; budge not, says my con- till I have run some ground. My master's a very science: Conscience, say I, you counsel well; fiend, Jew. Give him a present! give him a halter; I am say I, you counsel well: to be ruled by my con- famish'd in his service; you may tell every finger I science I should stay with the Jew my master, who have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are (God bless the mark!) is a kind of devil; and to run come: give me your present to one master Bassanio, away from the Jew I should be ruled by the fiend, who, indeed, gives rare new liveries; if I serve not who, saving your reverence, is the devil himself: him, I will run as far as God has any ground.-O Certainly, the Jew is the very devil incarnation: and, rare fortune! here comes the man;-to him, father; in my conscience, my conscience is a kind of hard for I am a Jew if I serve the Jew any longer. conscience, to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew: The fiend gives the more friendly counsel: I will run, fiend; my heels are at your commandment, I will run.

Enter Old Gobbo, with a basket. Gob. Master, young man, you, 1 pray you; which is the way to master Jew's?

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

with him.

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

Laun. Turn upon your right hand at the next
turning, but, at the next turning of all, on your left;
marry, at the very next turning, turn of no hand,
but turn down indirectly to the Jew's house.
Gob. By God's sonties, 't will be a hard way to hit.
Can you tell me whether one Launcelot that dwells
with him dwell with him, or no?

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

Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man's son: his
father, though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor
man, and, God be thanked, well to live.
Laun. Well, let his father be what a will, we talk
of young master Launcelot.

Gob. Your worship's friend, and Launcelot. Laun. But I pray yon ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you, talk you of young master Launcelot. Gob. Of Launcelot, an 't please your master-ship. Laun. Ergo, master Launcelot; talk not of master Launcelot, father; for the young gentleman (according to fates and destinies, and such odd sayings, the sisters three, and such branches of learn. ing,) is, indeed, deceased; or, as you would say in plain terms, gone to heaven.

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

Laun. Do I look like a cudgel, or a hovel-post, a
staff, or a prop?-Do you know me, father?
Gob. Alack the day, I know you not, young gentle-
man: but, I pray you tell me, is my boy (God rest
his soul!) alive or dead?

Laun. Do you not know me, father?

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

Gob. Pray you, sir, stand up; I am sure you are not Launcelot, my boy.

Laun. Pray you, let's have no more fooling about
it, but give me your blessing; I am Launcelot, your
boy that was, your son that is, your child that shall
Gob. I cannot think you are my son.
Laun. I know not what I shall think of that: but
I am Launcelot, the Jew's man; and I am sure
Margery, your wife, is my inother.

be.

Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed: I'll be sworn if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood. Lord, worshipp'd might he be! what a beard hast thou got! thou hast got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my phill-horse has on his tail.

Enter Bassanio, with Leonardo, and other
Followers.

Bass. You may do so:-but let it be so hasted that
supper be ready at the farthest by five of the clock:
See these letters deliver'd; put the liveries to
lodging.
making; and desire Gratiano to come anon to my

[Exit a Servant.

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

Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, and have a desire, as my father shall specify,

Gob. His master and he (saving your worship's reverence) are scarce cater-cousins:

Laun. To be brief, the very truth is, that the Jew having done me wrong, doth cause me, as my father, being I hope an old man, shall frutify unto you,

Gob. I have here a dish of doves, that I would be-
stow upon your worship; and my suit is,-
Laun. In very brief, the suit is impertinent to my-
self, as your worship shall know by this honest
old man; and, though I say it, though old man,
yet, poor man, my father.

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

Gob. That is the very defect of the matter, sir.
Bass. I know thee well, thou hast obtain'd thy suit:

Shylock, thy master, spoke with me this day,
And hath preferr'd thee, if it be preferment,
To leave a rich Jew's service, to become
The follower of so poor a gentleman.
Laun. The old proverb is very well parted be-
tween my master Shylock and you, sir; you have
the grace of God, sir, and he hath enough.

[To his followers.

Bass. Thou speak'st it well. Go, father, with thy
Take leave of thy old master, and inquire [son :-
My lodging out :-give him a livery
More guarded than his fellows': See it done.
Laun. Father, in:-I cannot get a service, no!-
I have ne'er a tongue in my head!-Well; [looking
on his palm] if any man in Italy have a fairer table;
which doth offer to swear upon a book I shall have
good fortune! Go to, here's a simple line of life!
here's a small trifle of wives: Alas, fifteen wives is
nothing; eleven widows and nine maids, is a simple
coming in for one man: and then, to 'scape drown-
ing thrice; and to be in peril of my life with the edge
of a feather-bed; here are simple 'scapes! Well, if
fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this
gear.-Father, come. I'll take my leave of the Jew
in the twinkling of an eye.

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

Gra. Where is your master?

Leon.

Yonder, sir, he walks. [Ex. Leon.

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