If you repay me not on such a day, Ant. Content, in faith; I'll seal to such a bond, Bass. You shall not seal to such a bond for me, Ant. Why, fear not, man; I will not forfeit it; Shy. O, father Abraham, what these Christians A pound of man's flesh, taken from a man, And, for my love, I pray you, wrong me not. are; [Exit. Ant. Hie thee, gentle Jew. ACT II. Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear, If Hercules and Lichas play at dice And so may I, blind fortune leading me, Por. You must take your chance; And either not attempt to choose at all, Or swear, before you choose,-if you choose wrong, In way of marriage; therefore be advised! Mor. Nor will not; come, bring me unto my chance! Por. First, forward to the temple; after dinner Your hazard shall be made. 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 fiends bids me pack; via! says the fiend; away! says the fiend, for the heavens; rouse up a brave mind,says the fiend, and run. Well, my conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, says very wisely to me,-my honest friend Launcelot, being an honest man's son-or rather an honest woman's son ;-for,indeed, my father did something smack, something grow to, he had a kind of taste;-well, my conscience says, Launcelot, budge not; budge, says the fiend: budge not, says my conscience: Conscience, say I, you counsel well; fiend,say SCENE I.-Belmont. Aroom in Portia's house. Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Morocco, and his train; PORTIA, NERISSA, and other of her Attend-I, you counsel well: to be ruled by my conscience, I ants. Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion, His wife, who wins me by that means I told you, For my affection. Mor. Even for that I thank you; should stay with the Jew, my master, who, (God bless Laun. [Aside.] Oheavens, this is my true begotten father! who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel 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 up on 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. Gab. By God's sonties, 'twill 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: you of young master Launcelot? talk 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 he will, we talk of young master Launcelot. Gob. Your worship's friend, and Launcelot, sir. Laun. But I pray you ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you; talk you of young master Launcelot? Gob. Of Launcelot, au't please your mastership. 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 learning,) 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. Dollook 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 gentleman: 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; Iam sure you are not Launcelot, my boy. Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the 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 be. Laun. To be brief, the very truth is, that the Jew Gob. I cannot think you are my son. 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 on thy chin, than Dobbin my thill-horse has on his tail. Laun. It should seem, then, that Dobbin's tail grows backward; I am sure he had more hair on his tail, than I have on my face, when I last saw him. Gob. Lord, how art thou chang'd! How dost thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a present; How 'gree you now? Bass. One speak for both ;-what would you? Gob. This is the very defect of the matter, sir. Laun. The old proverb is very well parted between my master Shylock and you, sir; you have the grace of God, sir, and he hath enough." Bass. Thou speak'st it well. Go, father, with thy son: Take leave of thy old master, and enquire My lodging out!-Give him a livery To his Followers. 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 drowning thrice; and to be in peril of my life with the edge of a featherbed;-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. Laun. Well, well; but for mine own part, as I have set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest till I have run some ground: my master's a very Jew! Give him a present! give him a halter. I am famish'd in his service; you may tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come; give me your present to one master Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare new liveries; if I serve not him, I will run as far, as God has any ground.-O rare fortune! here comes the man;-to him, father: for I am a Jew, if serve the Jew any longer. I [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 estem'd acquaintance; hie thee, go! Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein. Enter GRATIANO. Gra. Where is your master? Leon. Youder, sir, he walks. Gra. Signior Bassanio,Bass. Gratiano! [Exit Leonardo. Gra. I have a suit to you. Bass. You have obtain❜d it. Gra. You must not deny me; I must go with you Belmont. to Bass.Why, then you must.-But hear thee,Gratiano; Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice;Parts that become thee happily enough, And in such eyes as ours appear not faults; But where thou art not known, why, there they show Something too liberal;-pray thee, také pain To allay with some cold drops of modesty Thy skipping spirit; lest, through thy wild behaviour, I be misconstrued in the place I go to, And lose my hopes. Gra. Signior Bassanio, hear me: If I do not put on a sober habit, Talk with respect, and swear but now and then, Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely; Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say, amen; Use all the observance of civility, Like one well studied in a sad ostent To please his grandam, never trust me more. Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing. Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica? Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night; you shall not gage me What page's suit she hath in readiness. By what we do to-night. Bass. No, that were pity; I would entreat you rather to put on Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends That purpose merriment. But fare you well, I have some business. SCENE III.-The same. A room in Shylock's house. Enter JESSICA and LAUNCelot. Jes. I am sorry, thou wilt leave my father so; And so farewell! I would not have my father Laun. Adieu!-tears exhibit my tongue.-Most beautiful pagan,-most sweet Jew! If a Christian do not play the knave, and get thee, I am much deceived. But, adieu! these foolish drops do somewhat drown my manly spirit; adieu! Jes. Farewell, good Launcelot!- SCENE IV.-The same. A street. [Exit. [Exit. Enter GRATIANO, LORENZO, SALARINO, and SALANIO. Lor. Nay, we will slink away at supper-time; Disguise us at my lodging, and return All in an hour. Gra. We have not made good preparation. Salar. We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers. Salan. 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order'd; And better, in my mind, not undertook. Lor. 'Tis now but four o'clock; we have two hours To furnish us:— Enter LAUNCELOT, with a letter. Friend Launcelot, what's the news? Laun. An it shall please you to break up this, it shall seem to signify. Lor. I know the hand: in faith, 'tis a fair hand; And whiter than the paper it writ on, Is the fair hand that writ. Gra. Love-news, in faith. Laun. By your leave, sir! Lor. Whither goest thon? Laun. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup to-night with my new master the Christian. Lor. Hold here, take this:-tell gentle Jessica. I will not fail her!-speak it privately; go.-Gentlemen, [Exit Launcelot. Will you prepare you for this masque to-night? I am provided of a torch-bearer. Salar. Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it straight. Salan. And so will I. Lor. Meet me, and Gratiano, At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence. If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven, [Exeunt. SCENE V.-The same. Before Shylock's house. Enter SHYLOCK and LAUNCELOT. Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge, The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio:What, Jessica!-thou shalt not gormandize, As thou hast done with me;-what, Jessica!And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out :Why, Jessica, I say! Laun. Why, Jessica! Shy. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call. Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me, I could do nothing without bidding. Enter JESSICA. The prodigal Christiau.-Jessica, my girl, Shy. So do I his. Laun. And they have conspired together, I will not say, you shall see a masque; but if you do, then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a bleeding on Black-Monday last, at six o'clock i'the morning, fallng out that year on Ash-Wednesday was four year in the afternoon. Shy. What! are there masques? Hear me,Jessica: Laun. I will go before, sir.- [Exit Laun. Shy. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha? Jes. His words were, Farewell, mistress; nothing else. Shy. The patch is kind enough; but a huge feeder, Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day More than the wild cat; drones hive not with me Therefore I part with him; and part with him To one, that I would have him help to waste His borrow'd purse.-Well, Jessica, go in; Perhaps, I will return immediately; Do, as I bid you, Shut doors after you; Fast bind, fast find; Salar.'Tis good we do so. [Exeunt Salar. and Salan. A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. [Exit. SCENE VI.-The same. Enter GRATIANO and SALARINO, masqued. Gra. This is the pent-house, under which Lorenzo Desir'd us to make stand. Salar. His hour is almost past. Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, For lovers ever run before the clock. Salar. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly Gra. That ever holds: Who riseth from a feast, Enter LORENZO. Salar. Here comes Lorenzo; more of this hereafter. Enter JESSICA above, in boy's clothes. Jes. Lorenzo, certain; and my love, indeed; Lor. Heaven, and thy thoughts, are witness that thou art. Jes. Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains. I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me, For I am much asham'd of my exchange: But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit; For if they could, Cupid himself would blush To see me thus transformed to a boy. Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. Jes. What, must I hold a candle to my shames? They in themselves, good sooth, are too, too light. Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love; And I should be obscured. [Exeunt. SCENE VII.-Belmont. A room in Portia's house. Flourish of cornets. Enter PORTIA, with the Prince of Morocco, and both their trains. 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 ;- Mor. Some god direct my judgment! Let me see, Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath. Jes. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself Enter JESSICA, below. What, art thou come?-On, gentlemen, away; Do it in hope of fair advantages: A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross; One of these three contains her heavenly picture. Stamped in gold; but that's insculp'd upon. Por. There, take it, prince; and if my form lie there, Mor. O hell! what have we here? A carrion death, within whose empty eye All that glisters is not gold, Often have you heard that told: Many a man his life hath sold, But outside to behold. Gilded tombs do worms unfold. Cold, indeed; and labour lost; Then, farewell, heat; and, welcome, frost. Portia, adien! I have too griev'd a heart SCENE VIII.-Venice. A street. [Exit. Salar. Why man, I saw Bassanio under sail; Of double ducats, stol'n from me by my daughter! Salar. Marry, well remember'd. Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince! Which casket'twas I chose; next, if I fail Por. To these injunctions every one doth swear, Ar. And so have I address'd me. Fortune now What O, that estates, degrees, and offices, Were not deriv'd corruptly! and that clear honour To be new varnish'd? Well, but to my choice: Por. Too long a pause for that, which you find there. |