The most excellent historie of the merchant of Venice VVith the extreame crueltie of Shylocke the Iewe towards the sayd merchant, in cutting a iust pound of his flesh: and the obtayning of Portia by the choyse of three chests. As it hath beene diuers times acted by the Lord Chamberlaine his Seruants. Written by William Shakespeare. — Merchant of Venice

The most excellent historie of the merchant of Venice VVith the extreame crueltie of Shylocke the Iewe towards the sayd merchant, in cutting a iust pound of his flesh: and the obtayning of Portia by the choyse of three chests. As it hath beene diuers times acted by the Lord Chamberlaine his Seruants. Written by William Shakespeare. — Merchant of Venice

Table of contents

Title page

The comicall Hiſtory of the Merchant of Venice.

The comicall Hiſtory of the Merchant of Venice.

[Page]

[Page]

Enter Anthonio, Salaryno, and Salanio.

An.

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 ſtuffe tis made of, whereof it is borne,

I am to learne: and ſuch a want-wit ſadnes makes of mee,

That I haue much adoe to know my ſelfe.

Salarino.

Your minde is toſſing on the Ocean,

There where your Argoſies with portlie ſayle

Like Signiors and rich Burgars on the flood,

Or as it were the Pageants of the ſea,

Doc ouer-peere the petty traffiquers

That curſie to them do them reuerence

As they flie by them with theyr wouen wings.

Salanio.

Beleeue mee ſir, had I ſuch venture forth,

The better part of my affections would

Be with my hopes abroade. I ſhould be ſtill

Plucking the graſſe to know where ſits the wind,

Piring in Maps for ports, and peers and rodes:

And euery obiect that might make me feare

Miſ-fortune to my ventures, out of doubt

Would make me ſad.

Salar.

My wind cooling my broth,

VVould blow me to an ague when I thought

VVhat harme a winde too great might doe at ſea.

I ſhould not ſee the ſandie howre-glaſſe runne

But I ſhould thinke of ſhallowes and of flatts,

And ſee my wealthy Andrew docks in ſand

[Page] For ſaying nothing; when I am very ſure

If they ſhould ſpeake, would almoſt dam thoſe eares

vvhich hearing them would call their brothers fooles,

Ile tell thee more of this another time.

But fiſh not with this melancholy baite

For this foole gudgin, this opinion:

Come good Lorenſo, faryewell a while,

Ile end my exhortation after dinner.

Loren.

Well, we will leaue you then till dinner time.

I muſt be one of theſe ſame dumbe wiſe men,

For Gratiano neuer lets me ſpeake.

Gra.

Well keepe me company but two yeeres moe

Thou ſhalt not know the ſound of thine owne tongue.

An.

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

Gra.

Thanks yfaith, for ſilence is onely commendable

In a neates togue dried, and a mayde not vendable.

Exeunt.

An.

It is that any thing now.

Baſſ.

Gratiano ſpeakes an infinite deale of nothing more then any man in all Venice; his reaſons are as two graines of wheate hid in two buſhels of chaffe: you ſhall ſeeke all day ere you finde them, and when you haue them, they are not worth the ſearch.

An.

VVell, tell me now what Lady is the ſame

To whom you ſwore a ſecrete pilgrimage

That you to day promiſd to tell me of.

Baſſ.

Tis not vnknowne to you Anthonio

How much I haue diſabled mine eſtate,

By ſomething ſhowing a more ſwelling port

Then my faint meanes would graunt continuance:

Nor doe I now make mone to be abridg'd

From ſuch a noble rate, but my cheefe care

Is to come fairely of from the great debts

vvherein my time ſomething too prodigall

Hath left me gagd: to you Anthonio

I owe the moſt in money and in loue,

And from your loue I haue a warrantie

To vnburthen all my plots and purpoſes

How to get cleere of all the debts I owe.

[Page]An.

I pray you good Baſſanio let me know it,

And if it ſtand as you your ſelfe ſtill doe,

vvithin the eye of honour, be aſſurd

My purſe, my perſon, my extreameſt meanes

Lie all vnlockt to your occaſions.

Baſſ.

In my ſchoole dayes, when I had loſt one ſhaft,

I ſhot his fellow of the ſelfe ſame flight

The ſelfe ſame way, with more aduiſed watch

To finde the other forth, and by aduenturing both,

I oft found both: I vrge this child-hood proofe

Becauſe what followes is pure innocence.

I owe you much, and like a wilfull youth

That which I owe is loſt, but if you pleaſe

To ſhoote another arrow that ſelfe way

vvhich you did ſhoote the firſt, I doe not doubt,

As I will watch the ayme or to find both,

Or bring your latter hazzard bake againe,

And thankfully reſt debter for the firſt.

An.

You know me well, and heerein ſpend but time

To wind about my loue with circumſtance,

And out of doubt you doe me now more wrong

In making queſtion of my vttermoſt

Then if you had made waſt of all I haue:

Then doe but ſay to me what I ſhould doe

That in your knowledge may by me be done,

And I am preſt vnto it: therefore ſpeake.

Baſſ.

In Belmont is a Lady richly left,

And ſhe is faire, and fairer then that word,

Of wondrous vertues, ſometimes from her eyes

I did receaue faire ſpeechleſſe meſſages:

Her name is Portia, nothing vndervallewd

To Catos daughter, Brutus Portia,

Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth,

For the foure winds blow in from euery coaſt

Renowned ſutors, and her ſunny locks

Hang on her temples like a golden fleece,

vvhich makes her ſeat of Belmont Cholchos ſtrond,

[Page] And many Iaſons come in queſt of her.

O my Anthonio, had I but the meanes

To hold a riuall place with one of them,

I haue a minde preſages me ſuch thrift

That I ſhould queſtionleſſe be fortunate.

Anth.

Thou knowſt that all my fortunes are at ſea,

Neither haue I money, nor commoditie

To raiſe a preſent ſumme, therefore goe forth

Try what my credite can in Venice doe,

That ſhall be rackt euen to the vttermoſt

To furniſh thee to Belmont to faire Portia.

Goe preſently enquire and ſo will I

vvhere money is, and I no queſtion make

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

Exeunt.

Enter Portia with her wayting woman Nerriſſa.

Portia.

By my troth Nerriſſa, my little body is awearie of this great world.

Ner.

You would be ſweet Madam, if your miſeries were in the ſame aboundance as your good fortunes are: and yet for ought I ſee, they are as ſicke that ſurfeite with too much, as they that ſtarue with nothing; it is no meane happines therfore to be ſeated in the meane, ſuperfluitie comes ſooner by white haires, but competencie liues longer.

Portia.

Good ſentences, and well pronounc'd.

Ner.

They would be better if well followed.

Portia.

If to do were as eaſie as to know what were good to do, Chappels had beene Churches, and poore mens cottages Princes Pallaces, it is a good diuine that followes his owne inſtructions, I can eaſier teach twentie what were good to be done, then to be one of the twentie to follow mine owne teaching: the braine may deuiſe lawes for the blood, but a hote temper leapes ore a colde decree, ſuch a hare is madnes the youth, to skippe ore the meſhes of good counſaile the cripple; but this reaſoning is not in the faſhion to chooſe mee a husband, ô mee the word chooſe, I may neyther chooſe who I would, nor refuſe who I diſlike, ſo is the will of a lyuing daughter curbd by the will of a deade father: is it not harde [Page] Nerriſſa, that I cannot chooſe one, nor refuſe none.

Ner.

Your Father was euer vertuous, and holy men at theyr death haue good inſpirations, therefore the lottrie that he hath deuiſed in theſe three cheſts of gold, ſiluer, and leade, whereof who chooſes his meaning chooſes you, will no doubt neuer be choſen by any rightlie, but one who you ſhall rightly loue: But what warmth is there in your affection towardes any of theſe Princelie ſuters that are already come?

Por.

I pray thee ouer-name them, and as thou nameſt them, I will deſcribe them, and according to my deſcription leuell at my affection.

Ner.

Firſt there is the Neopolitane Prince.

Por.

I thats a colt indeede, for he doth nothing but talke of his horſe, & he makes it a great appropriation to his owne good parts that he can ſhoo him himſelfe: I am much afeard my Ladie his mother plaid falſe with a Smyth.

Ner.

Than is there the Countie Palentine.

Por.

Hee doth nothing but frowne (as who ſhould ſay, & you will not haue me, chooſe, he heares merry tales and ſmiles not, I feare hee will prooue the weeping Phyloſopher when hee growes old, beeing ſo full of vnmannerly ſadnes in his youth,) I had rather be married to a deaths head with a bone in his mouth, then to eyther of theſe: God defend me from theſe two.

Ner.

How ſay you by the French Lord, Mounſier Le Boune?

Por.

God made him, and therefore let him paſſe for a man, in truth I knowe it is a ſinne to be a mocker, but hee, why hee hath a horſe better then the Neopolitans, a better bad habite of frowning then the Count Palentine, he is euery man in no man, if a Traſſell ſing, he falls ſtraght a capring, he will fence with his owne ſhadow. If I ſhould marry him, I ſhould marry twenty husbands: if hee would deſpiſe me, I would forgiue him, for if he loue me to madnes, I ſhall neuer requite him.

Ner.

What ſay you then to Fauconbridge, the young Barron of England?

Por.

You know I ſay nothing to him, for hee vnderſtands not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latine, French, nor Italian, & you will come into the Court and ſweare that I haue a poore pennieworth [Page] in the Engliſh: hee is a proper mans picture, but alas vvho can conuerſe with a dumbe ſhow? how odly hee is ſuted, I thinke he bought his doublet in Italie, his round hoſe in Fraunce, his bonnet in Germanie, and his behauiour euery where.

Nerriſsa

What thinke you of the Scottiſh Lorde his neighbour:

Portia.

That hee hath a neyghbourlie charitie in him, for hee borrowed a boxe of the eare of the Engliſhman, and ſwore hee would pay him againe when he was able: I think the Frenchman became his ſuretie, and ſeald vnder for another.

Ner.

How like you the young Germaine, the Duke of Saxonies nephew?

Por.

Very vildlie in the morning when hee is ſober, and moſt vildly in the afternoone when he is drunke: when he is beſt, he is a little worſe then a man, & when he is worſt he is little better then a beaſt, and the worſt fall that euer fell, I hope I ſhall make ſhift to goe without him.

Ner.

Yf hee ſhoulde offer to chooſe, and chooſe the right Caſket, you ſhould refuſe to performe your Fathers will, if you ſhould refuſe to accept him.

Portia.

Therefore for feare of the worſt, I pray thee ſet a deepe glaſſe of Reyniſhe vvine on the contrarie Casket, for if the deuill be within, and that temptation without, I knowe hee will chooſe it. I will doe any thing Nerriſſa ere I will be married to a ſpunge.

Nerriſſa.

You neede not feare Ladie the hauing anie of theſe Lords, they haue acquainted me with theyr determinations, which is indeede to returne to theyr home, and to trouble you with no more ſute, vnleſſe you may be wonne by ſome other ſort thē your Fathers impoſition, depending on the Caskets.

Por.

Yf I liue to be as old as Sibilla, I will die as chaſt as Diana, vnleſſe I be obtained by the maner of my Fathers will: I am glad this parcell of wooers are ſo reaſonable, for there is not one among them but I doate on his very abſence: & I pray God graunt them a faire departure.

Nerriſſa

Doc you not remember Lady in your Fathers time, a Venecian a Scholler & a Souldiour that came hether in companie of the Marqueſſe of Mountferrat?

[Page]Portia.

Yes, yes, it was Baſſanio, as I thinke ſo was he calld.

Ner.

True maddam, hee of all the men that euer my fooliſh eyes look'd vpon, was the beſt deſeruing a faire Ladie.

Portia.

I remember him well, and I remember him worthie of thy prayſe.

How nowe, vvhat newes?

Enter a Seruingman.

Ser.

The foure ſtrangers ſeeke for you maddam to take theyr leaue: and there is a fore-runner come from a fift, the Prince of Moroco, who brings word the Prince his Maiſter will be heere to night.

Por.

Yf I could bid the fift welcome with ſo good hart as I can bid the other foure farewell, I ſhould bee glad of his approch: if he haue the condition of a Saint, and the complexion of a deuill, I had rather he ſhould ſhriue mee then wiue mee. Come Nerriſſa, ſirra goe before: whiles we ſhut the gate vpon one wooer, another knocks at the doore.

Exeunt.

Enter Baſſanio with Shylocke the Iew.

Shy

Three thouſand ducates, well.

Baſſ.

I ſir, for three months.

Shy.

For three months, well.

Baſſ.

For the which as I told you, Anthonio ſhalbe bound.

Shy.

Anthonio ſhall become bound, well.

Baſſ.

May you ſted me? Will you pleaſure me? Shall I know your aunſwere.

Shy.

Three thouſand ducats for three months, and Anthonio bound.

Baſſ.

Your aunſwere to that.

Shy.

Anthonio is a good man.

Baſſ.

Haue you heard any imputation to the contrary.

Shylocke.

Ho no, no, no, no: my meaning in ſaying hee is a good man, is to haue you vnderſtand mee that hee is ſufficient, yet his meanes are in ſuppoſition: hee hath an Argoſie bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies, I vnderſtand moreouer vpon the Ryalta, [...]ee hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England, [Page] and other ventures he hath ſquandred abroade, but ſhips are but boordes, Saylers but men, there be land rats, and water rats, water theeues, and land theeues, I meane Pyrats, and then there is the pe [...]rill of waters; windes, and rockes: the man is notwithſtanding ſufficient, three thouſand ducats, I thinke I may take his bond.

Baſ.

Be aſſurd you may.

Iew.

I will be aſſurd I may: and that I may bee aſſured, I will bethinke mee, may I ſpeake with Anthonio?

Baſſ.

Yf it pleaſe you to dine with vs.

Iew.

Yes, to ſmell porke, to eate of the habitation which your Prophet the Nazarit coniured the deuill into: I wil buy with you, ſell with you, talke with you, walke with you, and ſo following: but I will not eate with you, drinke with you, nor pray with you. What newes on the Ryalto, who is he comes heere?

Enter Anthonio.

Baſſ.

This is ſignior Anthonio.

Jew.

How like a fawning publican he lookes.

I hate him for he is a Chriſtian:

But more, for that in low ſimplicitie

He lends out money gratis, and brings downe

The rate of vſance heere with vs in Venice.

Yf I can catch him once vpon the hip,

I will feede fat the auncient grudge I beare him.

He hates our ſacred Nation, and he rayles

Euen there where Merchants moſt doe congregate

On me, my bargaines, and my well-wone thrift,

vvhich hee calls interreſt: Curſed be my Trybe

if I forgiue him.

Baſſ.

Shyloch, doe you heare.

Shyl.

I am debating of my preſent ſtore,

And by the neere geſſe of my memorie

I cannot inſtantly raiſe vp the groſſe

Of full three thouſand ducats: what of that,

Tuball a wealthy Hebrew of my Tribe

Will furniſh me; but ſoft, how many months

Doe you deſire? Reſt you faire good ſignior,

Your worſhip was the laſt man in our mouthes.

[Page]An.

Shylocke, albeit I neither lend nor borrow

By taking nor by giuing of exceſſe,

Yet to ſupply the ripe wants of my friend,

Ile breake a cuſtome: is hee yet poſſeſt

How much ye would?

Shy.

I, I, three thouſand ducats.

Ant.

And for three months.

Shyl.

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

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

Me thoughts you ſaid, you neither lend nor borrow

Vpon aduantage.

Ant.

I doe neuer vſe it.

Shy.

When Iacob grazd his Vncle Labans Sheepe,

This Iacob from our holy Abram was

(As his wiſe mother wrought in his behalfe)

The third poſſeſſer; I, he was the third.

Ant.

And what of him, did he take interreſt?

Shyl.

No, not take intereſt, not as you would ſay

Directly intreſt, marke what Iacob did,

VVhen Laban and himſelfe were compremyzd

That all the canelings which were ſtreakt and pied

Should fall as Iacobs hier, the Ewes being ranck

In end of Autume turned to the Rammes,

And when the worke of generation was

Betweene theſe wolly breeders in the act,

The skilful ſheepheard pyld me certaine wands,

And in the dooing of the deede of kind

He ſtuck them vp before the fulſome Ewes,

Who then conceauing, did in eaning time

Fall party-colourd lambs, and thoſe were Iacobs.

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

And thrift is bleſſing if men ſteale it not.

An.

This was a venture ſir that Jacob ſerud for,

A thing not in his power to bring to paſſe,

But ſwayd and faſhiond by the hand of heauen.

Was this inſerted to make interreſt good?

Or is your gold and ſiluer ewes and rammes?

[Page]Shyl.

I cannot tell, I make it breede at faſt, but note me ſignior.

Anth.

Marke you this Baſſanio,

The deuill can cite Scripture for his purpoſe,

An euill ſoule producing holy witnes

Is like a villaine with a ſmiling cheeke,

A goodly apple rotten at the hart.

O what a goodly out-ſide falſhood hath.

Shy.

Three thouſand ducats, tis a good round ſumme.

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

Ant.

Well Shylocke, ſhall we be beholding to you?

Shyl.

Signior Anthonio, manie a time and oft

In the Ryalto you haue rated me

About my moneyes and my vſances:

Still haue I borne it with a patient ſhrug,

(For ſuffrance is the badge of all our Trybe)

You call me misbeleeuer, cut-throate dog,

And ſpet vpon my Iewiſh gaberdine,

And all for vſe of that which is mine owne.

Well then, it now appeares you neede my helpe:

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

Shylocke, we would haue moneyes▪ you ſay ſo:

You that did voyde your ruine vpon my beard,

And ſoote me as you ſpurne a ſtranger curre

Ouer your threſhold, moneyes is your ſute.

What ſhould I ſay to you? Should I not ſay

Hath a dog money? is it poſſible

A curre can lend three thouſand ducats? or

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

With bated breath, and whiſpring humblenes

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

You ſpurnd me ſuch a day another time,

You calld me dogge: and for theſe curteſies

Ile lend you thus much moneyes.

Ant.

I am as like to call thee ſo againe,

To ſpet on thee againe, to ſpurne thee to.

Yf thou wilt lend this money, lend it not

[Page] As to thy friends, for when did friendſhip take

A breede for barraine mettaile of his friend?

But lend it rather to thine enemie,

Who if he breake, thou maiſt with better face

Exact the penaltie.

Shy.

Why looke you how you ſtorme,

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

Forget the ſhames that you haue ſtaind me with,

Supply your preſent wants, and take no doyte

Of vſance for my moneyes, and youle not heare mee, this is kinde I offer.

Baſſ.

This were kindneſſe.

Shyl.

This kindneſſe will I ſhowe, Goe with me to a Notarie, ſeale me there Your ſingle bond, and in a merrie ſport if you repay me not on ſuch a day in ſuch a place, ſuch ſumme or ſummes as are expreſt in the condition, let the forfaite be nominated for an equall pound of your faire fleſh, to be cut off and taken in what part of your bodie pleaſeth me.

Ant.

Content infaith, yle ſeale to ſuch a bond, and ſay there is much kindnes in the Iew.

Baſſ.

You ſhall not ſeale to ſuch a bond for me, [...]e rather dwell in my, neceſſitie.

An.

Why feare not man, I will not forfaite it, vvithin theſe two months, thats a month before this bond expires, I doe expect returne of thrice three times the valew of this bond.

Shy.

O father Abram, what theſe Chriſtians are, Whoſe owne hard dealings teaches them ſuſpect the thoughts of others: Pray you tell me this, if he ſhould breake his day what ſhould I gaine by the exaction of the forfeyture? A pound of mans fleſh taken from a man, is not ſo eſtimable, profitable neither as fleſh of Muttons, Beefes, or Goates, I ſay [Page] To buy his fauour, I extend this friendſhip, Yf he wil take it, ſo, if not adiew, And for my loue I pray you wrong me not.

An.

Yes Shylocke, I will ſeale vnto this bond.

Shy.

Then meete me forthwith at the Noteries,

Giue him direction for this merry bond

And I will goe and purſe the ducats ſtraite,

See to my houſe left in the fearefull gard

Of an vnthriftie knaue: and preſently

Ile be with you.

Exit.

An.

Hie thee gentle Iewe. The Hebrew will turne

Chriſtian, he growes kinde.

Baſſa.

I like not faire termes, and a villaines minde.

An.

Come on, in this there can be no diſmay,

My ſhips come home a month before the day.

Exeunt.

Enter Morochus a tawnie Moore all in white, and three or foure followers accordingly, with Portia, Nerriſſa, and their traine.

Morocho.

Miſlike me not for my complexion,

The ſhadowed liuerie of the burniſht ſunne,

To whom I am a neighbour, and neere bred.

Bring me the favreſt creature North-ward borne,

Where Phaebus ſire ſcarce thawes the yſicles,

And let vs make incyzion for your loue,

To proue whoſe blood is reddeſt, his or mine.

I tell thee Lady this aſpect of mine

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

The beſt regarded Virgins of our Clyme

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

Except to ſteale your thoughts my gentle Queene.

Portia.

In termes of choyſe I am not ſoly led

By nice direction of a maydens eyes:

Beſides, the lottrie of my deſtenie

Barrs me the right of voluntary chooſing:

But if my Father had not ſcanted me,

[Page] And hedgd me by his wit to yeeld my ſelfe

His wife, who winnes me by that meanes I told you,

Your ſelfe (renowned Prince) than ſtoode as faire

As any commer I haue look'd on yet

For my affection.

Mor.

Euen for that I thanke you,

Therefore I pray you leade me to the Caskets

To try my fortune: By this Symitare

That ſlewe the Sophy, and a Perſian Prince

That wone three fields of Sultan Solyman,

I would ore-ſtare the ſterneſt eyes that looke:

Out-braue the hart moſt daring on the earth:

Pluck the young ſucking Cubs from the ſhe Beare,

Yea, mock the Lyon when a rores for pray

To win the Lady. But alas, the while

If Hercules and Lychas play at dice

Which is the better man, the greater throw

May turne by fortune from the weaker hand:

So is Alcides beaten by his rage,

And ſo may I, blind Fortune leading me

Miſſe that which one vnworthier may attaine,

And die with greeuing.

Portia.

You muſt take your chaunce,

And eyther not attempt to chooſe at all,

Or ſweare before you chooſe, if you chooſe wrong

Neuer to ſpeake to Lady afterward

In way of marriage, therefore be aduiſ'd.

Mor.

Nor will not, come bring me vnto my chaunce.

Portia.

Firſt forward to the temple, after dinner

Your hazard ſhall be made.

Mor.

Good fortune then,

To make me bleſt or curſed'ſt among men.

Exeunt.

Enter the Clowne alone.

Clowne.

Certainely, my conſcience will ſerue me to runne from this Iewe my Maiſter: the fiend is at mine elbow, and tempts me, ſaying to me, Iobbe, Launcelet Jobbe, good Launcelet, or good Iobbe, [Page] or good Launcelet Iobbe, vſe your legges, take the ſtart, runne away, my conſcience ſayes no; take heede honeſt Launcelet, take heede honeſt Iobbe, or as afore-ſaide honeſt Launcelet Iobbe, doe not runne, ſcorne running with thy heeles; well, the moſt coragious fiend bids me packe, ſia ſayes the fiend, away ſayes the fiend, for the heauens rouſe vp a braue minde ſayes the fiend, and runne; well, my conſcience hanging about the necke of my heart, ſayes very wiſely to mee: my honeſt friend Launcelet beeing an honeſt mans ſonne, or rather an honeſt womans ſonne, for indeede my Father did ſomething ſmacke, ſomething grow to; he had a kinde of taſt; well, my conſcience ſayes Launcelet bouge not, bouge ſayes the fiend, bouge not ſayes my conſcience, conſcience ſay I you counſaile wel, fiend ſay I you counſaile well, to be ruld by my conſcience, I ſhould ſtay with the Iewe my Maiſter, (who God bleſſe the marke) is a kinde of deuill; and to runne away from the Iewe I ſhould be ruled by the fiend, who ſauing your reuerence is the deuill himſelfe: certainely the Iewe is the very deuill incarnation, and in my conſcience, my conſcience is but a kinde of hard conſcience, to offer to counſaile mee to ſtay with the Iewe; the fiend giues the more friendly counſaile: I will runne fiend, my heeles are at your commaundement, I will runne.

Enter old Gobbo with a basket.

Gobbo.

Maiſter young-man, you I pray you, which is the way to Maiſter Iewes?

Launcelet.

O heauens, this is my true begotten Father, who being more then ſand blinde, high grauell blinde, knowes me not, I will try confuſions with him.

Gobbo.

Maiſter young Gentleman, I pray you which is the way to Maiſter Iewes.

Launcelet.

Turne vp on your right hand at the next turning, but at the next turning of all on your left; marry at the very next turning turne of no hand, but turne downe indirectly to the Iewes houſe.

Gobbo.

Be Gods ſonties twill be a hard way to hit, can you tell [Page] mee whether one Launcelet that dwels with him, dwell with him or no.

Launcelet.

Talke you of young Maiſter Launcelet, marke mee nowe, nowe will I raiſe the waters; talke you of young Maiſter Launcelet.

Gobbo.

No Maiſter ſir, but a poore mans Sonne, his Father though I ſay't is an honeſt exceeding poore man, and God bee thanked well to liue.

Launce.

Well, let his Father be what a will, wee talke of young Maiſter Launcelet.

Gob.

Your worſhips friend and Launcelet ſir.

Launce.

But I pray you ergo olde man, ergo I beſeech you, talke you of young Maiſter Launcelet.

Gob.

Of Launcelet ant pleaſe your maiſterſhip.

Launce.

Ergo Maiſter Launcelet, talke not of maiſter Launcelet Father, for the young Gentleman according to fates and deſtenies, and ſuch odd ſayings, the ſiſters three, and ſuch braunches of learning, is indeede deceaſed, or as you would ſay in plaine termes, gone to heauen.

Gobbo.

Marry God forbid, the boy was the very ſtaffe of my age, my very prop.

Launcelet.

Doe I looke like a cudgell or a houell poſt, a ſtaffe, or a prop: doe you know me Father.

Gobbo.

Alacke the day, I knowe you not young Gentleman, but I pray you tell mee, is my boy GOD reſt his ſoule aliue or dead.

Launcelet.

Doe you not know me Father.

Gobbo.

Alack ſir I am ſand blind, I know you not.

Launcelet.

Nay, in deede if you had your eyes you might fayle of the knowing mee: it is a wiſe Father that knowes his ovvne childe. Well, olde man, I will tell you newes of your ſonne, giue mee your bleſſing, trueth will come to light, muder cannot bee hidde long, a mannes Sonne may, but in the ende trueth vvill out.

Gobbo.

Pray you ſir ſtand vp, I am ſure you are not Launcelet my boy.

[Page]Launce.

Pray you let's haue no more fooling, about it, but giue mee your bleſſing: I am Launcelet your boy that was, your ſonne that is, your child that ſhall be.

Gob.

I cannot thinke you are my ſonne.

Launc.

I know not what I ſhall think of that: but I am Launcelet the Iewes man, and I am ſure Margerie your wife is my mother.

Gob.

Her name is Margerie in deede, ile be ſworne if thou bee Launcelet, thou art mine owne fleſh and blood: Lord worſhipt might he be, what a beard haſt thou got; thou haſt got more haire on thy chinne, then Dobbin my philhorſe haſe on his taile.

Launce.

It ſhould ſeeme then that Dobbins taile growes backward. I am ſure hee had more haire of his taile then I haue of my face when I loſt ſaw him.

Gob.

Lord how art thou changd: how dooſt thou and thy Maſter agree, I haue brought him a preſent; how gree you now?

Launce.

Well, well, but for mine owne part, as I haue ſet vp my reſt to runne away, ſo I will not reſt till I haue runne ſome ground; my Maiſter's a very Iewe, giue him a preſent, giue him a halter, I am famiſht in his ſeruice. You may tell euery finger I haue with my ribs: Father I am glad you are come, giue me your preſent to one Maiſter Baſſanio, who in deede giues rare newe Lyuories, if I ſerue not him, I will runne as farre as God has any ground. O rare fortune, heere comes the man, to him Father, for I am a Iewe if I ſerue the Iewe any longer.

Enter Baſſanio with a follower or two.

Baſſ.

You may doe ſo, but let it be ſo haſted that ſupper be ready at the fartheſt by fiue of the clocke: ſee theſe Letters deliuered, put the Lyueries to making, and deſire Gratiano to come anone to my lodging.

Launce.

To him Father.

Gob.

God bleſſe your worſhip.

Baſſ.

Gramercie, wouldſt thou ought with me.

Gobbe.

Heere's my ſonne ſir, a poore boy.

Launce.

Not a poore boy ſir, but the rich Iewes man that would ſir as my Father ſhall ſpecifie.

[Page]Gob.

He hath a great infection ſir, as one would ſay to ſerue.

Lau.

Indeede the ſhort and the long is, I ſerue the Iewe, & haue a deſire as my Father ſhall ſpecifie.

Gob.

His Maiſter and he (ſauing your worſhips reuerence) are ſcarce catercoſins,

Lau.

To be briefe, the very truth is, that the Iewe hauing done me wrong, dooth cauſe me as my Father being I hope an old man ſhall frutifie vnto you.

Gob.

I haue heere a diſh of Doues that I would beſtow vppon your worſhip, and my ſute is.

Lau.

In very briefe, the ſute is impertinent to myſelfe, as your worſhip ſhall knowe by this honeſt old man, and though I ſay it, though old man, yet poore man my Father.

Baſſ.

One ſpeake for both, what would you?

Laun.

Serue you ſir.

Gob.

That is the very defect of the matter ſir.

Baſſ.

I know thee well, thou haſt obtaind thy ſute,

Shylocke thy Maiſter ſpoke with me this day,

And hath preferd thee, if it be preferment

To leaue a rich Iewes ſeruice, to become

The follower of ſo poore a Gentleman.

Clowne.

The old prouerb is very well parted betweene my Maiſter Shylocke and you ſir, you haue the grace of God ſir, and hee hath enough.

Baſſ.

Thou ſpeakſt it well; goe Father with thy Sonne

Take leaue of thy old Maiſter, and enquire

My lodging out, giue him a Lyuerie

More garded then his fellowes: ſee it done.

Clowne.

Father in, I cannot get a ſeruice, no, I haue nere a tong in my head, wel: if any man in Italy haue a fayrer table which dooth offer to ſweare vpon a booke, I ſhall haue good fortune; goe too, heere's a ſimple lyne of life, heeres a ſmall tryfle of wiues, alas, fifteene wiues is nothing, a leuen widdowes and nine maydes is a ſimple comming in for one man, and then to ſcape drowning thrice, and to be in perrill of my life with the edge of a featherbed, heere are ſimple ſcapes: vvell, if Fortune be a woman ſhe's a good wench for this gere: Father come, ile take my leaue of the Iewe in [Page] the twinkling.

Exit Clowne.

Baſſ.

I pray thee good Leonardo thinke on this,

Theſe things being bought and orderly beſtowed

Returne in haſt, for I doe feaſt to night

My beſt eſteemd acquaintance, hie thee goe.

Leon.

My beſt endeuours ſhall be done heerein.

Exit Leonardo.

Enter Gratiano.

Grati.

Where's your Maiſter.

Leonar.

Yonder ſir he walkes.

Grati.

Signior Baſſanio.

Baſſ.

Gratiano.

Gra.

I haue ſute to you.

Baſſ.

You haue obtaind it.

Gra.

You muſt not deny me, I muſt goe with you to Belmont.

Baſſ.

Why then you muſt but heare thee Gratiano,

Thou art to wild, to rude, and bold of voyce,

Parts that become thee happily enough,

And in ſuch eyes as ours appeare not faults

But where thou art not knowne; why there they ſhow

Somthing too liberall, pray thee take paine

To allay with ſome cold drops of modeſtie

Thy skipping ſpirit, leaſt through thy wild behauiour

I be miſconſtred in the place I goe to,

And looſe my hopes.

Gra.

Signor Baſſanio, heare me,

Yf I doe not put on a ſober habite,

Talke with reſpect, and ſweare but now and than,

Weare prayer bookes in my pocket, looke demurely,

Nay more, while grace is ſaying hood mine eyes

Thus with my hat, and ſigh and ſay amen:

Vſe all the obſeruance of ciuillity

Like one well ſtudied in a ſad oſtent

To pleaſe his Grandam, neuer truſt me more.

Baſſ.

Well, we ſhall ſee your bearing.

Gra.

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

By what we doe to night.

Baſſ.

No that were pitty,

[Page] I would intreate you rather to put on

Your boldeſt ſute of mirth, for we haue friends

That purpoſe merriment: but far you well,

I haue ſome buſines.

Gra.

And I muſt to Lorenſo and the reſt,

But we will viſite you at ſupper time.

Exeunt.

Enter Ieſſica and the Clowne.

Jeſſica.

I am ſorry thou wilt leaue my Father ſo,

Our houſe is hell, and thou a merry deuill

Didſt rob it of ſome taſt of tediouſnes,

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

And Launcelet, ſoone at ſupper ſhalt thou ſee

Lorenſo, who is thy new Maiſters gueſt,

Giue him this Letter, doe it ſecretly,

And ſo farwell: I would not haue my Father

See me in talke with thee.

Clowne.

Adiew, teares exhibit my tongue, moſt beautifull Pagan, moſt ſweete Iewe, if a Chriſtian doe not play the knaue and get thee, I am much deceaued; but adiew, theſe fooliſh drops doe ſomthing drowne my manly ſpirit: adiew.

Jeſſica.

Farwell good Launcelet.

Alack, what heynous ſinne is it in me

To be aſhamed to be my Fathers child,

But though I am a daughter to his blood

I am not to his manners: ô Lorenſo

Yf thou keepe promiſe I ſhall end this ſtrife,

Become a Chriſtian and thy louing wife.

Exit.

Enter Gratiano, Lorenſo, Salaryno, and Salanio.

Loren.

Nay, we will ſlinke away in ſupper time,

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

Gratia.

We haue not made good preparation.

Salari.

We haue not ſpoke vs yet of Torch-bearers,

Solanio.

Tis vile vnleſſe it may be quaintly ordered,

And better in my minde not vndertooke.

Loren.

Tis now but foure of clocke, we haue two houres [Page] To furniſh vs; friend Launcelet whats the newes.

Enter Launcelet.

Launcelet.

And it ſhal pleaſe you to breake vp this, it ſhal ſeeme to ſignifie.

Loren.

I know the hand, in faith tis a faire hand,

And whiter then the paper it writ on

Is the faire hand that writ.

Gratia.

Loue, newes in faith.

Launce.

By your leaue ſir.

Loren.

Whither goeſt thou.

Launc.

Marry ſir to bid my old Maiſter the Iewe to ſup to night with my new Maiſter the Chriſtian.

Loren.

Hold heere take this, tell gentle Ieſſica

I will not faile her, ſpeake it priuatly,

Goe Gentlemen, will you prepare you for this maske to night,

I am prouided of a Torch-bearer.

Exit Clowne.

Sal.

I marry, ile be gone about it ſtraite.

Sol.

And ſo will I.

Loren.

Meete me and Gratiano at Gratianos lodging

Some houre hence.

Sal.

Tis good we doe ſo.

Exit.

Gratia.

Was not that Letter from faire Ieſſica.

Loren.

I muſt needes tell thee all, ſhe hath directed

How I ſhall take her from her Fathers houſe,

What gold and iewels ſhe is furniſht with,

What Pages ſute ſhe hath in readines,

Yf ere the Iewe her Father come to heauen,

Yt will be for his gentle daughters ſake,

And neuer dare misfortune croſſe her foote,

Vnleſſe ſhe doe it vnder this excuſe,

That ſhe is iſſue to a faithleſſe Iewe:

Come goe with me, pervſe this as thou goeſt,

Faire Jeſſica ſhall be my Torch-bearer.

Exit.

Enter Iewe and his man that was the Clowne.

Iewe.

Well, thou ſhalt ſee, thy eyes ſhall be thy iudge,

The difference of old Shylocke and Baſſanio;

What Ieſſica, thou ſhalt not gurmandize

[Page] As thou haſt done with mee: vvhat Ieſſica,

and ſleepe, and ſnore, and rend apparraile out.

Why Ieſſica I ſay.

Clowne.

Why Ieſſica.

Shy.

Who bids thee call? I doe not bid thee call.

Clow.

Your vvorſhip was wont to tell me,

I could doe nothing without bidding.

Enter Ieſſica.

Ieſſica.

Call you? vvhat is your will?

Shy.

I am bid forth to ſupper Ieſſica,

There are my keyes: but wherefore ſhould I goe?

I am not bid for loue, they flatter me,

But yet Ile goe in hate, to feede vpon

The prodigall Chriſtian. Ieſſica my girle,

looke to my houſe, I am right loth to goe,

There is ſome ill a bruing towards my reſt,

For I did dreame of money baggs to night.

Clowne.

I beſeech you ſir goe, my young Maiſter doth expect your reproch.

Shy.

So doe I his.

Clowne.

And they haue conſpired together, I vvill not ſay you ſhall ſee a Maske, but if you doe, then it was not for nothing that my noſe fell a bleeding on black monday laſt, at ſixe a clocke ith morning, falling out that yeere on aſhwenſday was foure yeere in thafternoone.

Shy.

What are there maskes? heare you me Ieſſica, lock vp my doores, and when you heare the drumme and the vile ſquealing of the wry-neckt Fiffe clamber not you vp to the caſements then Nor thruſt your head into the publique ſtreete To gaze on Chriſtian fooles with varniſht faces: But ſtop my houſes eares, I meane my caſements, let not the ſound of ſhallow fopprie enter my ſober houſe. By Iacobs ſtaffe I ſweare I haue no minde of feaſting forth to night: but I will goe: goe you before me ſirra, ſay I will come.

[Page]Clowne.

I will goe before ſir. Miſtres looke out at window for all this, there will come a Chriſtian by vvill be worth a Iewes eye.

Shyl.

What ſayes that foole of Hagars ofspring? ha.

Ieſſica.

His words were farewell miſtris, nothing els.

Shy.

The patch is kinde enough, but a huge feeder, Snaile ſlow in profit, and he ſleepes by day more then the vvild-cat: drones hiue not with me, therefore I part with him and part with him to one that I would haue him helpe to waſt his borrowed purſe. Well Ieſſica goe in, perhaps I will return immediathe, do as I bid you, ſhut dores after you, faſt bind, faſt find. a prouerbe neuer ſtale in thriftie minde.

Exit.

Ieſ.

Farewell, and if my fortune be not croſt,

I haue a Father, you a daughter loſt.

Exit.

Enter the maskers, Gratiano and Salerino.

Grat.

This is the penthouſe vnder which Lorenzo deſired vs to make ſtand.

Sal.

His howre is almoſt paſt.

Gra.

And it is meruaile he out-dwells his howre, for louers euer runne before the clocke.

Sal.

O tenne times faſter Venus pidgions flie to ſeale loues bonds new made, then they are wont to keepe obliged faith vnforfaited.

Gra.

That euer holds: who riſeth from a feaſt vvith that keene appetite that he ſits downe? vvhere is the horſe that doth vntread againe his tedious meaſures with the vnbated fire that he did pace them firſt: all things that are are withmore ſpirit chaſed then enioyd. How like a younger or a prodigall the skarfed barke puts from her natiue bay hugd and embraced by the ſtrumpet wind, how like the prodigall doth ſhe returne [Page] vvith ouer-wetherd ribbs and ragged ſailes leane, rent, and beggerd by the ſtrumpet wind?

Enter Lorenzo.

Sal.

Heere comes Lorenzo, more of this hereafter.

Lor.

Sweet freends, your patience for my long abode not I but my affaires haue made you waite: vvhen you ſhall pleaſe to play the theeues for wiues Ile watch as long for you then: approch here dwels my father Iew. Howe whoſe within?

Ieſſica aboue.

Ieſſ.

Who are you? tell me for more certainty,

Albeit Ile ſweare that I doe know your tongue.

Lor.

Lorenzo and thy loue.

Ieſſica.

Lorenzo certaine, and my loue indeed, for who loue I ſo much? and now who knowes but you Lorenzo whether I am yours?

Lor.

Heauen & thy thoughts are witnes that thou art.

Ieſ.

Heere catch this casket, it is worth the paines, I am glad us night you doe not looke on me, for I am much aſhamde of my exchange: But loue is blinde, and louers cannot ſee The prerty follies that themſelues commit, for if they could. Cupid himſelfe would bluſh to ſee me thus tranſformed to a boy.

Lor.

Deſcend, for you muſt be my torch-bearer.

Ioſ.

What, muſt I hold a candle to my ſhames, they in themſelues goodſooth are too too light. Why, tis an office of diſcouery loue, and I ſhould be obſcurd.

Lor.

So are you ſweet euen in the louely garniſh of a boy, but come at once, for the cloſe night doth play the runaway, and we are ſtaid for at Baſſanios feaſt.

Ioſ.

I will make faſt the doores & guild my ſelfe with ſome mo ducats, and be with you ſtraight.

Gra.

Now by my hoode a gentle, and no Iew.

Lor.

Beſhrow me but I loue her hartilie, [Page] A coyne that beares the figure of an Angell ſtampt in gold, but thats inſculpt vpon: But heere an Angell in a golden bed lies all vvithin. Deliuer me the key: heere doe I chooſe, and thriue I as I may.

Por.

There take it Prince, and if my forme lie there then I am yours?

Mor.

O hell! what haue wee heare, a carrion death, vvithin whoſe emptie eye there is a written ſcroule, Ile reade the writing.

All that glisters is not gold,

Often haue you heard that told,

Many a man his life hath ſold

But my outſide to behold,

Guilded timber doe wormes infold:

Had you beene as wiſe as bold,

Young in limbs, in iudgement old,

Your aunſwere had not beene inſcrold,

Fareyouwell, your ſute is cold.

Mor.

Cold indeede and labour loſt,

Then farewell heate, and welcome froſt:

Portia adiew, I haue too greeu'd a hart

To take a tedious leaue: thus looſers part.

Exit.

Por.

A gentle riddance, draw the curtaines, go,

Let all of his complexion chooſe me ſo.

Exeum.

Enter Salarino and Solanio.

Sal.

Why man I ſaw Baſſanio vnder ſayle, vvith him is Gratiano gone along; and in theyr ſhip I am ſure Lorenzo is not.

Sola.

The villaine Iew with outcries raiſd the Duke, vvho went with him to ſearch Baſſanio; ſhip.

Sal.

He came too late, the ſhip was vnderſaile, But there the Duke was giuen to vnderſtand that in a Gondylo were ſeene together Lorenzo and his amorous Ieſſica. Beſides, Anthonio certified the Duke they were not with Baſſanio in his ſhip.

[Page]Sol.

I neuer heard a paſsion ſo confuſd, So ſtrange, outragious, and ſo variable as the dogge Iew did vtter in the ſtreets, My daughter, ô my ducats, ô my daughter, Fled with a Chriſtian, ô my Chriſtian ducats, Iuſtice, the law my ducats, and my daughter, A ſealed bag, two ſealed bags of ducats of double ducats, ſtolne from me by my daughter, and Iewels, two ſtones, two rich and precious ſtones, Stolne by my daughter: iuſtice; find the girle, ſhee hath the ſtones vpon her, and the ducats.

Sal.

Why all the boyes in Venice follow him, crying his ſtones, his daughter and his ducats.

Sola.

Let good Anthonio looke he keepe his day or he ſhall pay for this.

Sal.

Marry well remembred, I reaſond with a Frenchman yeſterday, vvho told me, in the narrow ſeas that part the French and Engliſh, there miſcaried a veſſell of our country richly fraught: I thought vpon Anthonio when he told me, and wiſht in ſilence that it were not his.

Sol.

You were beſt to tell Anthonio what you heare, Yet doe not ſuddainely, for it may greeue him.

Sal.

A kinder gentleman treades not the earth, I ſaw Baſſanio and Anthonio part, Baſſanio told him he would make ſome ſpeede of his returne: he aunſwered, doe not ſo, ſlumber not buſines for my ſake Baſſanio, but ſtay the very riping of the time, and for the Iewes bond which he hath of me let it not enter in your minde of loue: be merry, and imploy your cheefeſt thoughts to courtſhip, and ſuch faire oſtents of loue as ſhall conueniently become you there, And euen there his eye being big with teares, turning his face, he put his hand behind him, and with affection wondrous ſencible [Page] He wrung Baſſanios hand, and ſo they parted.

Sol.

I thinke hee onely loues the world for him, I pray thee let vs goe and finde him out and quicken his embraced heauines vvith ſome delight or other.

Sal.

Doe we ſo.

Exeunt.

Enter Nerriſſa and a Seruiture.

Ner.

Quick, quick I pray thee, draw the curtain ſtrait, The Prince of Arragon hath tane his oath, and comes to his election preſently.

Enter Arrogon, his trayne, and Portia.

Por.

Behold, there ſtand the caskets noble Prince, yf you chooſe that wherein I am containd ſtraight ſhall our nuptiall rights be ſolemniz'd: but if you faile, without more ſpeech my Lord you muſt be gone from hence immediatly.

Arra.

I am enioynd by oath to obſerue three things, Firſt, neuer to vnfold to any one vvhich casket twas I choſe; next, if I faile of the right casket, neuer in my life to wooe a maide in way of marriage: laſtly, if I doe faile in fortune of my choyſe, immediatly to leaue you, and be gone.

Por.

To theſe iniunctions euery one doth ſweare that comes to hazard for my worthleſſe ſelfe.

Arr.

And ſo haue I addreſt me, fortune now

To my harts hope: gold, ſiluer, and baſe lead.

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

You ſhall looke fairer ere I giue or hazard.

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

Who chooſeth me, ſhall gaine what many men deſire,

What many men deſire, that many may be meant

by the foole multitude that chooſe by ſhow,

not learning more then the fond eye doth teach,

which pries not to thinteriour, but like the Martlet

[Page] Builds in the weather on the outward wall,

Euen in the force and rode of caſualty.

I will not chooſe what many men deſire,

Becauſe I will not iumpe with common ſpirits,

And ranke me with the barbarous multitudes.

Why then to thee thou ſiluer treaſure houſe,

Tell me once more what title thou dooſt beare;

Who chooſeth me ſhall get as much as he deſerues,

And well ſayde to; for who ſhall goe about

To coſen Fortune, and be honourable

vvithout the ſtampe of merrit, let none preſume

To weare an vndeſerued dignity:

O that eſtates, degrees, and offices,

vvere not deriu'd corruptly, and that cleare honour

vvere purchaſt by the merrit of the wearer,

How many then ſhould couer that ſtand bare?

How many be commaunded that commaund?

How much low peaſantry would then be gleaned

From the true ſeede of honour? and how much honour

Pickt from the chaft and ruin of the times,

To be new varniſt; well but to my choiſe.

Who chooſeth me ſhall get as much as he deſerues,

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

And inſtantly vnlocke my fortunes heere.

Portia.

Too long a pauſe for that which you finde there.

Arrag.

What's heere, the pourtrait of a blinking idiot

Preſenting me a ſhedule, I will reade it:

How much vnlike art thou to Portia?

How much vnlike my hopes and my deſeruings.

Who chooſeth me, ſhall haue as much as he deſerues?

Did I deſerue no more then a fooles head,

Is that my prize, are my deſerts no better?

Portia.

To offend and iudge are diſtinct offices,

And of oppoſed natures.

Arrag.

What is heere?

The fier ſeauen times tried this,

Seauen times tried that iudement is,

[Page] That did neuer chooſe amis,

Some there be that ſhadowes kis.

Such haue but a ſhadowes blis:

There be fooles aliue Iwis

Siluerd o're, and ſo was this.

Take what wife you will to bed,

I will euer be your head:

So be gone, you are ſped.

Arrag.

Still more foole I ſhall appeare

By the time I linger heere,

With one fooles head I came to woo,

But I goe away with two.

Sweet adiew, ile keepe my oath,

Paciently to beare my wroath.

Portia.

Thus hath the candle ſingd the moath:

O theſe deliberate fooles when they doe chooſe,

They haue the wiſedome by their wit to looſe.

Nerriſſ.

The auncient ſaying is no heriſie,

Hanging and wiuing goes by deſtinie.

Portia.

Come draw the curtaine Nerriſſa.

Enter Meſſenger.

Meſſ.

Where is my Lady.

Portia.

Heere, what would my Lord?

Meſſ.

Madame, there is a-lighted at your gate

A young Venetian, one that comes before

To ſignifie th'approaching of his Lord,

From whom he bringeth ſenſible regreets;

To wit, (beſides commends and curtious breath)

Gifts of rich valiew; yet I haue not ſeene

So likely an Embaſſador of loue.

A day in Aprill neuer came ſo ſweete

To ſhow how coſtly Sommer was at hand,

As this fore-ſpurrer comes before his Lord.

Portia.

No more I pray thee, I am halfe a-feard

Thou wilt ſay anone he is ſome kin to thee,

Thou ſpendſt ſuch high day wit in prayſing him:

[Page] Come come Nerryſſa, for I long to ſee

Quick Cupids Poſt that comes ſo mannerly.

Nerryſſ.

Beſſanio Lord, loue if thy will it be.

Exeunt.

Solanio and Salarino.

Solanio.

Now what newes on the Ryalto?

Salari.

Why yet it liues there vncheckt, that Anthonio hath a ſhip of rich lading wrackt on the narrow Seas; the Goodwins I thinke they call the place, a very dangerous flat, and fatall, where the carcaſſes of many a tall ſhip lie buried, as they ſay, if my goſſip report be an honeſt woman of her word.

Solanio.

I would ſhe were as lying a goſſip in that, as euer knapt Ginger, or made her neighbours beleeue ſhe wept for the death of a third husband: but it is true, without any ſlips of prolixity, or croſſing the plaine high way of talke, that the good Anthonio, the honeſt Anthonio; ô that I had a tytle good enough to keepe his name company.

Salari.

Come, the full ſtop.

Solanio.

Ha, what ſayeſt thou, why the end is, he hath loſt a ſhip.

Salari.

I would it might proue the end of his loſſes.

Solanio.

Let me ſay amen betimes, leaſt the deuil croſſe my praier, for heere he comes in the likenes of a Iewe. How now Shylocke, what newes among the Merchants?

Enter Shylocke.

Shy.

You knew, none ſo well, none ſo well as you, of my daughters flight.

Salari.

Thats certaine, I for my part knew the Taylor that made the wings ſhe flew withall.

Solan.

And Shylocke for his own part knew the bird was flidge, and then it is the complexion of them all to leaue the dam.

Shy.

She is damnd for it.

Salari.

Thats certaine, if the deuill may be her Iudge.

Shy.

My owne fleſh and blood to rebell.

Sola.

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

Shy.

I ſay my daughter is my fleſh and my blood.

Salari.

There is more difference betweene thy fleſh and hers, then betweene Iet and Iuori, more betweene your bloods, then there is betweene red vvine and renniſh: but tell vs, doe you heare whether Anthonio haue had any loſſe at ſea or no?

[Page]Shy.

There I haue another bad match, a bankrout, a prodigall, who dare ſcarce ſhewe his head on the Ryalto, a begger that was vſd to come ſo ſmug vpon the Mart: let him looke to his bond, he was wont to call me vſurer, let him looke to his bond, hee was wont to lende money for a Chriſtian curſie, let him looke to his bond.

Salari.

Why I am ſure if he forfaite, thou wilt not take his fleſh, what's that good for?

Shyl.

To baite fiſh with all, if it will feede nothing elſe, it will feede my reuenge; hee hath diſgrac'd me, and hindred me halfe a million, laught at my loſſes, mockt at my gaines, ſcorned my Nation, thwarted my bargaines, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies, and whats his reaſon, I am a Iewe: Hath not a Iewe eyes, hath not a Iewe hands, organs, dementions, ſences, affections, paſſions, fed with the ſame foode, hurt with the ſame weapons, ſubiect to the ſame diſeaſes, healed by the ſame meanes, warmed and cooled by the ſame Winter and Sommer as a Chriſtian is: if you pricke vs doe we not bleede, if you tickle vs doe wee not laugh, if you poyſon vs doe wee not die, and if you wrong vs ſhall wee not reuenge, if we are like you in the reſt, we will reſemble you in that. If a Iewe wrong a Chriſtian, what is his humillity, reuenge? If a Chriſtian wrong a Iewe, what ſhould his ſufferance be by Chriſtian example, why reuenge? The villanie you teach me I will execute, and it ſhall goe hard but I will better the inſtruction.

Enter a man from Anthonio.

Gentlemen, my maiſter Anthonio is at his houſe, and deſires to ſpeake with you both.

Saleri.

We haue beene vp and downe to ſeeke him.

Enter Tuball.

Solanio.

Heere comes another of the Tribe, a third cannot bee matcht, vnleſſe the deuill himſelfe turne Iewe. Exeunt Gentlemen.

Enter Tuball.

Shy.

How now Tuball, what newes from Genowa, haſt thou found my daughter?

Tuball.

I often came where I did heare of her, but cannot finde her.

[Page]Shylocke.

Why there, there, there, there, a diamond gone coſt me two thouſand ducats in Franckford, the curſe neuer fell vpon our Nation till now, I neuer felt it till nowe, two thouſand ducats in that, & other precious precious iewels; I would my daughter were dead at my foote, and the iewels in her eare: would ſhe were hearſt at my foote, and the ducats in her coffin: no newes of them, why ſo? and I know not whats ſpent in the ſearch: why thou loſſe vpon loſſe, the theefe gone with ſo much, and ſo much to finde the theefe, and no ſatisfaction, no reuenge, nor no ill lucke ſtirring but what lights a my ſhoulders, no ſighs but a my breathing, no teares but a my ſhedding.

Tuball.

Yes, other men haue ill lucke to, Anthonio as I heard in Genowa?

Shy.

What, what, what, ill lucke, ill lucke.

Tuball.

Hath an Argoſie caſt away comming from Tripolis.

Shy.

I thank God, I thank God, is it true, is it true.

Tuball.

I ſpoke with ſome of the Saylers that eſcaped the wrack.

Shy.

I thank thee good Tuball, good newes, good newes: ha ha, heere in Genowa.

Tuball.

Your daughter ſpent in Genowa, as I heard, one night foureſcore ducats.

Shy.

Thou ſtickſt a dagger in me, I ſhall neuer ſee my gold againe, foure ſcore ducats at a ſitting, foure ſcore ducats

Tuball.

There came diuers of Anthonios creditors in my company to Ven [...] [...]hat ſweare he cannot chooſe but breake.

Shy.

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

Tuball.

One of them ſhewed mee a ring that hee had of your daughter for a Monky.

Shy.

Out vpon her, thou tortureſt mee Tuball, it was my Turkies, I had it of Leah when I was a Batcheler: I would not haue giuen it for a Wildernes of Monkies.

Tuball.

But Anthonio is certainly vndone.

Shy.

Nay, that's true, that's very true, goe Tuball fee me an Officer, beſpeake him a fortnight before, I will haue the hart of him if he forfeite, for were he out of Venice I can make what merchandize I will: goe Tuball, and meete me at our Smagogue, goe good [Page] Tuball, at our Sinagogue Tuball.

Exeunt.

Enter Baſſanio, Portia, Gratiano, and all their traynes.

Portia.

I pray you tarry, pauſe a day or two

Before you hazard, for in chooſing wrong

I looſe your companie; therefore forbeare a while,

Theres ſomething tells me (but it is not loue)

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

Hate counſailes not in ſuch a quallity;

But leaſt you ſhould not vnderſtand me well,

And yet a mayden hath no tongue, but thought,

I would detaine you heere ſome moneth or two

before you venture for me. I could teach you

how to chooſe right, but then I am forſworne,

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

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

That I had beene forſworne: Beſhrow your eyes,

They haue ore-lookt me and deuided me,

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

Mine owne I would ſay: but if mine then yours,

And ſo all yours; ô theſe naughty times

puts barres betweene the ovvners and their rights,

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

Let Fortune goe to hell for it, not I.

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

To ech it, and to draw it out in length,

To ſtay you from election.

Baſſ.

Let me chooſe,

For as I am, I hue vpon the racke.

Por.

Vpon the racke Baſſanio, then confeſſe vvhat treaſon there is mingled with your loue.

Baſſ.

None but that vgly treaſon of miſtruſt,

vvhich makes me feare th'inioying of my Loue,

There may as well be amity and life

Tweene ſnow and fire, as treaſon and my loue.

Por.

I but I feare you ſpeake vpon the racke

vvhere men enforced doe ſpeake any thing.

[Page]Baſſ.

Promiſe me life, and ile confeſſe the truth.

Portia.

Well then, confeſſe and liue.

Baſſ.

Confeſſe and loue

had beene the very ſum of my confeſſion:

O happy torment, when my torturer

doth teach me aunſweres for deliuerance:

But let me to my fortune and the caskets.

Portia.

Away then, I am locktin one of them,

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

Nerryſſa and the reſt, ſtand all aloofe,

Let muſique ſound while he doth make his choyſe,

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

Fading in muſique. That the compariſon

may ſtand more proper, my eye ſhall be the ſtreame

and watry death-bed for him: he may win,

And what is muſique than? Than muſique is

euen as the flouriſh, when true ſubiects bowe

to a new crowned Monarch: Such it is,

As are thoſe dulcet ſounds in breake of day,

That creepe into the dreaming bride-groomes eare,

And ſummon him to marriage. Now he goes

vvith no leſſe preſence, but with much more loue

Then young Alcides, when he did redeeme

The virgine tribute, payed by howling Troy

To the Sea-monſter: I ſtand for ſacrifice,

The reſt alo [...] are the Dardanian vviues:

With bleared viſages come forth to view

The iſſue of th'exploit: Goe Hercules,

Liue thou, I liue with much much more diſmay,

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

A Song the whilst Baſſanio comments on the caskets to himſelfe.

Tell me where is fancie bred,

Or in the hart, or in the head,

How beget, how nouriſhed? Replie, replie.

[Page] It is engendred in the eye,

With gazing fed, and Fancie dies:

In the cradle where it lies

I et vs all ring Fancies knell.

Ile begin it.

Ding, dong, bell.

All.

Ding, dong, bell.

Baſſ.

So may the outward ſhowes be leaſt themſelues,

The world is ſtill deceau'd with ornament

In Law, what plea ſo tainted and corrupt,

But being ſeaſon'd with a gracious voyce,

Obſcures the ſhow of euill. In religion

What damned error but ſome ſober brow

vvill bleſſe it, and approue it with a text,

Hiding the groſnes with faire ornament:

There is no voyce ſo ſimple, but aſſumes

Some marke of vertue on his outward parts;

How many cowards whoſe harts are all as falſe

As ſtayers of ſand, weare yet vpon their chins

The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars,

vvho inward ſearcht, haue lyuers white as milke,

And theſe aſſume but valours excrement

To render them redoubted. Looke on beauty,

And you ſhall ſee tis purchaſt by the weight,

vvhich therein works a miracle in nature,

Making them lighteſt that weare moſt of it:

So are thoſe criſped ſnaky golden locks

vvhich maketh ſuch wanton gambols with the wind

Vpon ſuppoſed fairenes, often knowne

To be the dowry of a ſecond head,

The ſcull that bred them in the Sepulcher.

Thus ornament is but the guiled ſhore

To a moſt dangerous ſea: the beautious ſcarfe

vailing an Indian beauty; In a word,

The ſeeming truth which cunning times put on

To intrap the wiſeſt. Therefore then thou gāudy gold,

Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee,

[Page] Nor none of thee thou pale and common drudge

tweene man and man: but thou, thou meager lead

vvhich rather threatenſt then doſt promiſe ought,

thy palenes moues me more then eloquence,

and heere chooſe I, ioy be the conſequence.

Por.

How all the other paſſions fleet to ayre,

As doubtfull thoughts, and raſh imbrac'd deſpaire▪

And ſhyddring feare, and greene-eyed iealouſie.

O loue be moderate, allay thy extaſie,

In meaſure raine thy ioy, ſcant this excoſſe,

I feele too much thy bleſſing, make it leſſe

for feare I ſurfeit.

Baſ.

What finde I heere?

Faire Portias counterfeit. What demy God

hath come ſo neere creation? moue theſe eyes?

Or whither riding on the balls of mine

ſeeme they in motion? Heere are ſeuerd lips

parted with ſuger breath, ſo ſweet a barre

ſhould ſunder ſuch ſweet friends: heere in her haires

the Paynter playes the Spyder, and hath wouen

a golden meſh tyntrap the harts of men

faſter then gnats in cobwebs, but her eyes

how could he ſee to doe them? hauing made one,

me thinkes it ſhould haue power to ſteale both his

and leaue it ſelfe vnfurniſht: Yet looke how farre

the ſubſtance of my praiſe doth wrong this ſhadow

in vnderpryſing it, ſo farre this ſhadow

doth limpe behind the ſubſtance. Heeres the ſcroule,

the continent and ſummarie of my fortune.

You that chooſe not by the view

Chaunce as faire, and chooſe as true;

Since this fortune falls to you,

Be content, and ſeeke no new.

If you be well pleaſd with this,

and hold your fortune for your bliſſe,

Turne you where your Lady is,

And claims her with a loving kis.

[Page] A gentle ſcroule: Faire Lady, by your leaue,

I come by note to giue, and to receaue,

Like one of two contending in a prize

That thinks he hath done well in peoples eyes:

Hearing applauſe and vniuerſall ſhoute,

Giddy in ſpirit, ſtill gazing in a doubt

vvhether thoſe peales of praiſe be his or no,

So thrice faire Lady ſtand I euen ſo,

As doubtfull whether what I ſee be true,

Vntill confirmd, ſignd, ratified by you.

Por.

You ſee me Lord Baſſamo where I ſtand,

ſuch as I am; though for my ſelfe alone

I would not be ambitious in my wiſh

to wiſh my ſelfe much better, yet for you,

I would be trebled twentie times my ſelfe,

a thouſand times more faire, tenne, thouſand times

more rich, that onely to ſtand high in your account,

I might in vertues, beauties, liuings, friends

exceede account: but the full ſumme of me

is ſume of ſomething: which to terme in groſſe,

is an vnleſſond girle, vnſchoold, vnpractized,

happy in this, ſhe is not yet ſo old

but ſhe may learne: happier then this,

ſhee is not bred ſo dull but ſhe can learne;

happieſt of all, is that her gentle ſpirit

commits it ſelfe to yours to be directed,

as from her Lord, her gouernour, her King.

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

is now conuerted. But now I was the Lord

of this faire manſion, maiſter of my ſeruants,

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

this houſe, theſe ſeruants, and this ſame my ſelfe

are yours, my Lords, I giue them with this ring,

vvhich when you part from, looſe, or giue away,

let it preſage the ruine of your loue,

and be my vantage to exclaime on you.

Baſſ.

Maddam, you haue beteft me of all words,

[Page] onely my blood ſpeakes to you in my vaines,

and there is ſuch confuſion in my powers,

as after ſome oration fairely ſpoke

by a beloued Prince, there doth appeare

among the buzzing pleaſed multitude.

Where euery ſomthing beeing blent together,

turnes to a wild of nothing, ſaue of ioy

expreſt, and not expreſt: but when this ring

parts from this finger, then parts life from hence,

ô then be bold to ſay Baſſanios dead.

Ner.

My Lord and Lady, it is now our time

that haue ſtoode by and ſeene our wiſhes proſper,

to cry good ioy, good ioy my Lord and Lady.

Gra.

My Lord Baſſanio, and my gentle Lady,

I wiſh you all the ioy that you can wiſh:

for I am ſure you can wiſh none from me:

and when your honours meane to ſolemnize

the bargaine of your fayth: I doe beſeech you

euen at that time I may be married to.

Baſſ.

With all my hart, ſo thou canſt get a wife.

Gra.

I thanke your Lordſhip, you haue got m [...]

My eyes my Lord can looke as ſwift as yours:

you ſaw the miſtres, I beheld the mayd:

You lou'd, I lou'd for intermiſſion,

No more pertaines to me my lord then you;

your fortune ſtood vpon the caskets there,

and ſo did mine to as the matter falls:

for wooing heere vntill I ſwet againe,

and ſwearing till my very rough was dry

with oathes of loue, at laſt, if promiſe laſt

I got a promiſe of this faire one heere

to haue her loue: prouided that your fortune

atchiu'd her miſtres.

Por.

Is this true Nerriſſa?

Ner.

Maddam it is, ſo you ſtand pleaſd withall.

Baſſ.

And doe you Gratiano meane good fayth?

Gra.

Yes faith my Lord.

[Page]Baſſ.

Our feaſt ſhalbe much honored in your mariage.

Gra.

Wele play with them the firſt boy for a thouſand ducats.

Ner.

What and ſtake downe?

Gra.

No, we ſhall nere win at that ſport and ſtake downe.

But who comes heere? Lorenzo and his infidell?

vvhat, and my old Venecian friend Salerio?

Enter Lorenzo, Ieſſica, and Salerio a meſſenger from Venice.

Baſſa.

Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hether,

if that the youth of my newe intreſt heere

haue power to bid you welcome: by your leaue

I bid my very friends and countrymen

ſweet Portia welcome.

Por.

So doe I my Lord, they are intirely welcome.

Lor.

I thanke your honour, for my part my Lord

my purpoſe was not to haue ſeene you heere,

but meeting with Salerio by the way

he did entreate me paſt all ſaying nay

to come with him along.

Sal.

I did my Lord,

and I haue reaſon for it, Signior Anthonio

commends him to you.

Baſſa.

Ere I ope his Letter

I pray you tell me how my good friend doth.

Sal.

Not ſicke my Lord, vnleſſe it be in mind,

nor well, vnleſſe in mind: his letter there

will ſhew you his eſtate.

open the letter.

Gra.

Nerriſſa, cheere yond ſtranger, bid her welcom.

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

how doth that royall Merchant good Anthonio?

I know he will be glad of our ſucceſſe,

we are the Iaſons, we haue wone the fleece.

Sal.

I would you had won the fleece that he hath loſt.

Por.

There are ſome ſhrowd contents in yond ſame paper

that ſteales the colour from Baſſanios cheeke,

ſome deere friend dead, elſe nothing in the world

could turne ſo much the conſtitution

[Page] of any conſtant man: what worſe and worſe?

With leaue Baſſanio I am halfe your ſelfe,

and I muſt freely haue the halfe of any thing

that this ſame paper brings you.

Baſſ.

O ſweete Portia,

heere are a few of the vnpleaſant'ſt words

that euer blotted paper. Gentle Lady

when I did firſt impart my loue to you,

I freely told you all the wealth I had

ranne in my vaines, I was a gentleman,

and then I told you true: and yet deere Lady

rating my ſelfe at nothing, you ſhall ſee

how much I was a Braggart, when I told you

my ſtate was nothing, I ſhould then haue told you

that I was worſe then nothing; for indeede

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

ingag'd my friend to his meere enemie

to feede my meanes. Heere is a letter Lady,

the paper as the body of my friend,

and euery word in it a gaping wound

iſſuing life blood. But is it true Salerio

hath all his ventures faild, what not one hit,

from Tripolis, from Mexico and England,

from Lisbon, Barbary, and India,

and not one veſſell ſcape the dreadfull touch

of Merchant-marring rocks?

Sal.

Not one my Lord.

Beſides, it ſhould appeare, that if he had

the preſent money to diſcharge the Iew,

hee would not take it: neuer did I know

a creature that did beare the ſhape of man

ſo keene and greedie to confound a man.

He plyes the Duke at morning and at night,

and doth impeach the freedome of the ſtate

if they deny him iuſtice. Twentie Merchants,

the Duke himſelfe, and the Magnificoes

of greateſt port haue all perſwaded with him,

[Page] but none can driue him from the enuious plea

of forfaiture, of iuſtice, and his bond.

Jeſſi.

When I was with him, I haue heard him ſweare

to Tuball and to Chus, his country-men,

that he would rather haue Anthonios fleſh

then twentie times the value of the ſumme

that he did owe him: and I know my lord,

if law, authoritie, and power denie not,

it will goe hard with poore Anthonio.

Por.

Is it your decre friend that is thus in trouble?

Baſſ.

The deereſt friend to me, the kindeſt man,

the beſt conditiond and vnwearied ſpirit

in dooing curteſies: and one in whom

the auncient Romaine honour more appeares

then any that drawes breath in Italie.

Por.

What ſumme owes he the Iew?

Baſſ.

For me three thouſand ducats.

Por.

What no more, pay him ſix thouſand, & deface the bond:

double ſixe thouſand and then treble that,

before a friend of this diſcription

ſhall loſe a haire through Baſſanios fault.

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

and then away to Venice to your friend:

for neuer ſhall you lie by Portias ſide

vvith an vnquiet ſoule. You ſhall haue gold

to pay the petty debt twenty times ouer.

When it is payd, bring your true friend along,

my mayd Nerriſſa, and my ſelfe meane time

vvill liue as maydes and widdowes; come away,

for you ſhall hence vpon your wedding day:

bid your freends welcome, ſhow a merry cheere,

ſince you are deere bought, I will loue you decre.

But let me heare the letter of your friend.

Sweet Baſſanio, my ſhips haue all miſcaried, my Creditors growe cruell, my estate is very low, my bond to the Iewe is forfaite, and ſince in paying it, it is impoſsible I ſhould liue, all debts are cleerd betweene you [Page] and I if I might but ſee you at my death: notwithstanding, vſe your pleaſure, if your loue do not perſwade you to come, let not my letter.

Por.

O loue! diſpatch all buſines and be gone.

Baſſ.

Since I haue your good leaue to goe away,

I will make haſt; but till I come againe,

no bed ſhall ere be guiltie of my ſtay,

nor reſt be interpoſer twixt vs twaine.

Exeunt.

Enter the Iew, and Salerio, and Anthonio, and the Iaylor.

Iew.

Iaylor, looke to him, tell not me of mercie,

this is the foole that lent out money gratis.

Iaylor, looke to him.

Ant.

Heare me yet good Shylock.

Iew.

Ile haue my bond, ſpeake not againſt my bond,

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

thou call'dſt me dogge before thou hadſt a cauſe,

but ſince I am a dog, beware my phanges,

the Duke ſhall graunt me iuſtice, I do wonder

thou naughtie Iaylor that thou art ſo fond

to come abroade with him at his requeſt.

An.

I pray thee heare me ſpeake.

Iew.

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

Ile haue my bond, and therefore ſpeake no more.

Ile not be made a ſoft and dull eyde foole,

to ſhake the head, relent, and ſigh, and yeeld

to chriſtian interceſſers: follow not,

Ile haue no ſpeaking, I will haue my bond.

Exit Iew.

Sol.

It is the moſt impenitrable curre

that euer kept with men.

An.

Let him alone,

Ile follow him no more with bootleſſe prayers.

[Page] hee ſeekes my life, his reaſon well I know;

I oft deliuerd from his forfeytures

many that haue at times made mone to me,

therefore he hates me.

Sal.

I am ſure the Duke will neuer grant

this forfaiture to hold.

An.

The Duke cannot denie the courſe of law:

for the commoditie that ſtrangers haue

vvith vs in Venice, if it be denyed,

will much impeach the iuſtice of the ſtate,

ſince that the trade and profit of the citty

conſiſteth of all Nations. Therefore goe,

theſe griefes and loſſes haue ſo bated me

that I ſhall hardly ſpare a pound of fleſh

to morrow, to my bloody Creditor.

Well Iaylor on, pray God Baſſanio come

to ſee me pay his debt, and then I care not.

Exeunt.

Enter Portia, Nerriſſa, Lorenzo, Ieſſica, and a man of Portias.

Lor.

Maddam, although I ſpeake it in your preſence,

you haue a noble and a true conceite

of god-like amitie, which appeares moſt ſtrongly

in bearing thus the abſence of your Lord.

But if you knew to whom you ſhow this honour,

how true a gentleman you ſend releefe,

how decre a louer of my Lord your husband,

I know you would be prouder of the worke

then cuſtomarie bountie can enforce you.

Por.

I neuer did repent for dooing good,

nor ſhall not now: for in companions

that doe conuerſe and waſt the time together,

vvhoſe ſoules doe beare an egall yoke of loue,

there muſt be needes a like proportion

of lyniaments, of manners, and of ſpirit;

vvhich makes me thinke that this Anthonio

beeing the boſome louer of my Lord,

muſt needes be like my Lord. If it be ſo,

[Page] How little is the coſt I haue beſtowed

in purchaſing the ſemblance of my ſoule;

From out the ſtate of helliſh cruelty,

This comes too neere the praiſing of my ſelfe,

Therefore no more of it: heere other things

Lorenſo I commit into your hands,

The husbandry and mannage of my houſe,

Vntill my Lords returne: for mine owne part

I haue toward heauen breath'd a ſecret vowe,

To liue in prayer and contemplation,

Onely attended by Nerriſſa heere,

Vntill her husband and my Lords returne,

There is a Monaſtry two miles off,

And there we will abide. I doe deſire you

not to denie this impoſition,

the which my loue and ſome neceſſity

now layes vpon you.

Lorenſ.

Madame, with all my hart,

I ſhall obey you in all faire commaunds.

Por.

My people doe already know my mind,

And will acknowledge you and Jeſſica

in place of Lord Baſſanio and my ſelfe.

So far you well till we ſhall meete againe.

Lor.

Faire thoughts and happy houres attend on you.

Ieſſi.

I wiſh your Ladiſhip all harts content.

Por.

I thank you for your wiſh, and am well pleaſd

to wiſh it back on you: far you well Jeſſica.

Exeunt.

Now Balthaſer, as I haue euer found thee honeſt true,

So let me find thee ſtill: take this ſame letter,

and vſe thou all th'indeuour of a man,

In ſpeede to Mantua ſee thou render this

into my coſin hands Doctor Belario,

And looke what notes and garments he doth giue thee,

bring them I pray thee with imagin'd ſpeede

vnto the Tranect, to the common Ferrie

vvhich trades to Venice; vvaſt no time in words

but get thee gone, I ſhall be there before thee.

[Page]Baltha.

Madam, I goe with all conuenient ſpeede.

Portia

Come on Nerriſſa, I haue worke in hand

That you yet know not of; weele ſee our husbands

before they thinke of vs?

Nerriſſa.

Shall they ſee vs?

Portia.

They ſhall Nerriſſa: but in ſuch a habite,

that they ſhall thinke we are accompliſhed

vvith that we lacke; Ile hold thee any wager

vvhen we are both accoutered like young men,

ile proue the prettier fellow of the two,

and weare my dagger with the brauer grace,

and ſpeake betweene the change of man and boy,

vvi'h a reede voyce, and turne two minſing ſteps

into a manly ſtride; and ſpeake of frayes

like a fine bragging youth: and tell quaint lyes

how honorable Ladies ſought my loue,

vvhich I denying, they fell ſicke and dyed.

I could not doe withall: then ile repent,

and wiſh for all that, that I had not killd them;

And twenty of theſe punie lies ile tell,

that men ſhall ſweare I haue diſcontinued ſchoole

aboue a twelue-moneth: I haue within my minde

a thouſand raw tricks of theſe bragging lacks,

vvhich I will practiſe.

Nerriſſ.

Why, ſhall we turne to men?

Portia.

Fie, what a queſtion's that,

if thou wert nere a lewd interpreter:

But come, ile tell thee all my my whole deuice

vvhen I am in my coach, which ſtayes for vs

at the Parke gate; and therefore haſt away,

for we muſt meaſure twenty miles to day

Exeunt.

Enter Clowne and Jeſſica.

Clowne.

Yes truly, for looke you, the ſinnes of the Father are to be laid vpon the children, therefore I promiſe you, I feare you, I was alwaies plaine with you, and ſo now I ſpeake my agitation of the matter: therefore be a good chere, for truly I thinke you are damnd, there is but one hope in it that can doe you any good, and [Page] that is but a kinde of baſtard hope neither.

Ieſſica.

And what hope is that I pray thee?

Clowne.

Marry you may partly hope that your Father got you not, that you are not the Iewes daughter.

Jeſſica.

That were a kind of baſtard hope in deede, ſo the ſinnes of my mother ſhould be viſited vpon me.

Clowne.

Truly then I feare you are damnd both by father and mother: thus when I ſhun Scilla your father, I fall into Caribdis your mother; well, you are gone both wayes.

Ieſſica.

I ſhall be ſau'd by my husband, he hath made me a Chriſtian?

Clowne.

Truly the more to blame he, we were Chriſtians enow before, in as many as could well liue one by another: this making of Chriſtians will raiſe the price of Hogs, if we grow all to be pork eaters, we ſhall not ſhortly haue a raſher on the coles for mony.

Enter Lorenzo.

Ieſſi.

Ile tell my husband Launcelet what you ſay, here he come?

Loren.

I ſhall grow iealious of you ſhortly Launcelet, if you thus get my wife into corners?

Jeſſica.

Nay, you neede not feare vs Lorenzo, Launcelet and I are out, he tells me flatly there's no mercy for mee in heauen, becauſe I am a Iewes daughter: and he ſayes you are no good member of the common-wealth, for in conuerting Iewes to Chriſtians, you raiſe the price of porke.

Loren.

I ſhall aunſwere that better to the common-wealth than you can the getting vp of the Negroes belly: the Moore is vvith child by you Launcelet?

Clowne.

It is much that the Moore ſhould be more then reaſon: but if ſhe be leſſe then an honeſt woman, ſhe is indeede more then I tooke her for.

Loren.

How euery foole can play vpon the word, I thinke the beſt grace of wit will ſhortly turne into ſilence, and diſcourſe grow commendable in none onely but Parrats: goe in ſirra, bid them prepare for dinner?

Clowne.

That is done ſir, they haue all ſtomacks?

Loren.

Goodly Lord what a wit ſnapper are you, than bid them prepare dinner?

[Page] to offices of tender curteſie:

We all expect a gentle aunſwere Iewe?

Iewe.

I haue poſſeſt your grace of what I purpoſe,

and by our holy Sabaoth haue I ſworne

to haue the due and forfet of my bond,

if you deny it, let the danger light

vpon your charter and your Citties freedome?

Youle aske me why I rather chooſe to haue

a weight of carrion fleſh, then to receaue

three thouſand ducats: Ile not aunſwer that?

But ſay it is my humour, is it aunſwerd?

What if my houſe be troubled with a Rat,

and I be pleaſd to giue ten thouſand ducats

to haue it baind? vvhat, are you aunſwerd yet?

Some men there are loue not a gaping pigge?

Some that are mad if they behold a Cat?

And others when the bagpipe ſings ith noſe,

cannot containe their vrine for affection.

Maiſters of paſſion ſwayes it to the moode

of what it likes or loathes, now for your aunſwer:

As there is no firme reaſon to be rendred

vvhy he cannot abide a gaping pigge?

vvhy he a harmeleſſe neceſſarie Cat?

vvhy he a woollen bagpipe: but of force

muſt yeeld to ſuch in euitable ſhame,

as to offend himſelfe being offended:

So can I giue no reaſon, nor I will not,

more then a lodgd hate, and a certaine loathing

I beare Anthonio, that I follow thus

a looſing ſute againſt him? are you aunſwered?

Baſſ.

This is no aunſwer thou vnfeeling man,

to excuſe the currant of thy cruelty?

Iewe.

I am not bound to pleaſe thee with my anſwers?

Baſſ.

Doe all men kill the things they doe not loue?

Iewe.

Hates any man the thing he would not kill?

Baſſ.

Euery offence is not a hate at firſt?

Iewe.

What wouldſt thou haue a ſerpent ſting thee twice?

[Page]Anth.

I pray you think you queſtion with the Iewe,

you may as well goe ſtand vpon the Beach

and bid the maine flood bate his vſuall height,

vvell vſe queſtion with the Woolfe,

the Ewe bleake for the Lambe:

You may as well forbid the mountaine of Pines

to wag their high tops, and to make no noiſe

vvhen they are fretten with the guſts of heauen:

You may as well doe any thing moſt hard

as ſeeke to ſoften that then which what's harder:

his Iewiſh hart? therefore I doe beſeech you

make no moe offers, vſe no farther meanes,

but will all briefe and plaine conueniencie

let me haue iudgement, and the Iewe his will?

Baſſ.

For thy three thouſand ducats heere is ſixe?

Iewe.

If euery ducat in ſixe thouſand ducats

vvere in ſixe parts, and euery part a ducat,

I would not draw them, I would haue my bond?

Duk.

How ſhalt thou hope for mercy rendring none?

Jewe.

What iudgment ſhall I dread doing no wrong?

you haue among you many a purchaſt ſlaue,

vvhich like your Aſſes, and your Dogs and Mules

you vſe in abiect and in ſlauiſh parts,

becauſe you bought them, ſhall I ſay to you,

let them be free, marry them to your heires?

vvhy ſweat they vnder burthens, let their beds

be made as ſoft as yours, and let their pallats

be ſeaſond with ſuch viands, you will aunſwer

the ſlaues are ours, ſo doe I aunſwer you:

The pound of fleſh which I demaund of him

is deerely bought, as mine and I will haue it:

if you deny me, fie vpon your Law,

there is no force in the decrees of Venice:

I ſtand for iudgement, aunſwer, ſhall I haue it?

Duke.

Vpon my power I may diſmiſſe this Court,

vnleſſe Bellario a learned Doctor,

whom I haue ſent for to determine this

[Page] Come heere to day?

Salerio.

My Lord, heere ſtayes without

a meſſenger with letters from the Doctor,

new come from Padua?

Duke.

Bring vs the letters? call the Meſſenger?

Baſſ.

Good cheere Anthonio? what man, courage yet:

The Iew ſhall haue my fleſh, blood, bones and all,

ere thou ſhalt looſe for me one drop of blood?

Antho.

I am a tainted vveather of the flocke,

meeteſt for death, the weakeſt kind of fruite

drops earlieſt to the ground, and ſo let me;

You cannot better be imployd Baſſanio,

then to liue ſtill and write mine Epitaph?

Enter Nerriſſa.

Duke.

Came you from Padua from Bellario?

Ner.

From both? my L. Bellario greetes your grace?

Baſſ.

Why dooſt thou whet thy knife ſo earneſtly?

Iewe.

To cut the forfaiture from that bankrout there?

Gratia.

Not on thy ſoule: but on thy ſoule harſh Iew

thou makſt thy knife keene: but no mettell can,

no, not the hangmans axe beare halfe the keeneneſſe

of thy ſharpe enuie: can no prayers pearce thee?

Iewe.

No, none that thou haſt wit enough to make▪

Gratia.

O be thou damnd, inexecrable dogge,

And for thy life let iuſtice be accuſd;

Thou almoſt mak'ſt me wauer in my faith,

to hold opinion with Pythagoras,

that ſoules of Animalls infuſe themſelues

into the trunks of men: Thy curriſh ſpirit

gouernd a Woolfe, who hangd for humaine ſlaughter

euen from the gallowes did his fell ſoule fleete,

and whileſt thou layeſt in thy vnhallowed dam;

infuſd it ſelfe in thee: for thy deſires

are vvoluiſh, bloody, ſtaru'd, and rauenous.

Iewe.

Till thou canſt raile the ſeale from off my bond,

Thou but offendſt thy lungs to ſpeake ſo loud:

Repaire thy wit good youth, or it will fall

[Page] to cureleſſe ruine. I ſtand heere for law.

Duke.

This letter from Bellario doth commend

a young and learned Doctor to our Court:

Where is he?

Ner.

He attendeth here hard by

to know your aunſwer whether youle admit him.

Duke.

With all my hart: ſome three or foure of you

goe giue him curteous conduct to this place,

meane time the Court ſhall heare Bellarios letter.

Your Grace ſhall vnderſtand, that at the receit of your letter I am very ſicke, but in the inſtant that your meſſenger came, in louing viſitation was with me a young Doctor of Rome, his name is Balthazer: I acquainted him with the cauſe in cōtrouerſie between the Iew and Anthonio the Merchant, wee turnd ore many bookes together, hee is furniſhed with my opinion, which bettered vvith his owne learning, the greatnes whereof I cannot enough commend, comes with him at my importunitie, to fill vp your graces requeſt in my ſtead. I beſeech you let his lacke of yeeres be no impediment to let him lacke a reuerend eſtimation, for I neuer knew ſo young a body with ſo olde a head: I leaue him to your gracious acceptance, whoſe tryall ſhall better publiſh his commendation.

Enter Portia for Balthazer.

Duke.

You heare the learnd Bellario what he writes,

and heere I take it is the doctor come.

Giue me your hand, come you from old Bellario?

Portia.

I did my Lord.

Duke.

You are welcome, take your place:

are you acquainted with the difference

that holds this preſent queſtion in the Court.

Por.

I am enformed throughly of the cauſe,

vvhich is the Merchant here? and which the Iew?

Duke.

Anthonio and old Shylocke, both ſtand forth.

Por.

Is your name Shylocke?

Iew.

Shylocke is my name.

Por.

Of a ſtrange nature is the ſute you follow,

yet in ſuch rule, that the Venetian law

[Page] cannot impugne you as you doe proceed.

You ſtand within his danger, doe you not.

An.

I, ſo he ſayes.

Por.

Doe you confeſſe the bond?

An.

I doe.

Por.

Then muſt the Iew be mercifull.

Shy.

On what compulſion muſt I, tell me that.

Por.

The qualitie of mercie is not ſtraind,

it droppeth as the gentle raine from heauen

vpon the place beneath: it is twiſe bleſt,

it bleſſeth him that giues, and him that takes,

tis mightieſt in the mightieſt, it becomes

the throned Monarch better then his crowne.

His ſcepter ſhowes the force of temporall power,

the attribut to awe and maieſtie,

vvherein doth ſit the dread and feare of Kings:

but mercie is aboue this ſceptred ſway,

it is enthroned in the harts of Kings,

it is an attribut to God himſelfe;

and earthly power doth then ſhow likeſt gods

vvhen mercie ſeaſons iuſtice: therefore Jew,

though iuſtice be thy plea, conſider this,

that in the courſe of iuſtice, none of vs

ſhould ſee ſaluation: vve doe pray for mercy,

and that ſame prayer, doth teach vs all to render

the deedes of mercie. I haue ſpoke thus much

to mittigate the iuſtice of thy plea,

vvhich if thou follow, this ſtrict Court of Venice

muſt needes giue ſentence gainſt the Merchant there.

Shy.

My deeds vpon my head, I craue the law,

the penalty and forfaite of my bond.

Por.

Is he not able to diſcharge the money?

Baſſ.

Yes, heere I tender it for him in the Court,

yea, twiſe the ſumme, if that will not ſuffiſe,

I will be bound to pay it ten times ore

on forfait of my hands, my head, my hart,

if this will not ſuffiſe, it muſt appeare

[Page] that malice beares downe truth. And I beſeech you

wreſt once the law to your authoritie,

to doe a great right, doe a little wrong,

and curbe this cruell deuill of his will.

Por.

It muſt not be, there is no power in Venice

can altar a decree eſtabliſhed:

twill be recorded for a precedent,

and many an errour by the ſame example

will ruſh into the ſtate, it cannot be.

Shy.

A Daniell come to iudgement: yea a Daniell.

O wiſe young Iudge how I doe honour thee.

Por.

I pray you let me looke vpon the bond.

Shy.

Heere tis moſt reuerend doctor, here it is.

Por.

Shylocke theres thrice thy money offred thee.

Shy.

An oath, an oath, I haue an oath in heauen,

ſhall I lay periurie vpon my ſoule?

Not not for Venice.

Por.

Why this bond is forfait,

and lawfully by this the Iew may claime

a pound of fleſh, to be by him cut off

neereſt the Merchants hart: be mercifull,

take thrice thy money, bid me teare the bond.

Shy.

When it is payd, according to the tenure.

It doth appeare you are a worthy iudge,

you know the law, your expoſition

hath beene moſt ſound: I charge you by the law,

vvhereof you are a well deſeruing piller,

proceede to iudgement: by my ſoule I ſweare,

there is no power in the tongue of man

to alter me, I ſtay here on my Bond,

An.

Moſt hartelie I doe beſeech the Court

to giue the iudgement.

Por.

Why than thus it is,

you muſt prepare your boſome▪ for his knife.

Shy.

O noble Iudge, ô excellent young man.

Por.

For the intent and purpoſe of the law

hath full relation to the penaltie,

[Page] vvhich heere appeareth due vpon the bond.

Iew.

Tis very true: o wiſe and vpright Iudge,

how much more elder art thou then thy lookes.

Por.

Therefore lay bare your boſome.

Jew.

I, his breaſt,

ſo ſayes the bond, doth it not noble Iudge?

Neereſt his hart, thoſe are the very words.

Por.

It is ſo, are there ballance here to weigh the fleſh?

Iew.

I haue them ready.

Por.

Haue by ſome Surgion Shylocke on your charge,

to ſtop his wounds, leaſt he doe bleede to death.

Iew.

Is it ſo nominated in the bond?

Por.

It is not ſo expreſt, but what of that?

Twere good you doe ſo much for charitie.

Iew.

I cannot finde it, tis not in the bond.

Por.

You Merchant, haue you any thing to ſay?

Ant.

But little; I am armd and well prepard,

giue me your hand Baſſanio, far you well,

greeue not that I am falne to this for you:

for heerein Fortune ſhowes her ſelfe more kind

then is her cuſtome: it is ſtill her vſe

to let the wretched man out-liue his wealth,

to view with hollow eye and wrinckled brow

an age of pouertie: from which lingring pennance

of ſuch miſery doth ſhe cut me of.

Commend me to your honourable wife,

tell her the proceſſe of Anthonios end,

ſay how I lou'd you, ſpeake me faire in death:

and when the tale is told, bid her be iudge

vvhether Baſſanio had not once a loue:

Repent but you that you ſhall looſe your friend

and he repents not that he payes your debt.

For if the Iew doe cut but deepe enough,

Ile pay it inſtantly with all my hart.

Baſſ.

Anthonio, I am married to a wife

which is as deere to me as life it ſelfe,

but life it ſelfe, my wife, and all the world,

[Page] are not with m [...] [...]ſteemd aboue thy life.

I would looſe al [...] I ſacrifize them all

heere to this deuill, to deliuer you.

Por.

Your wife would giue you little thankes for that

if ſhe were by to heare you make the offer.

Gra.

I haue a wife who I proteſt I loue,

I would ſhe were in heauen, ſo ſhe could

intreate ſome power to change this curriſh Iew.

Ner.

Tis well you offer it behind her back,

the wiſh would make elſe an vnquiet houſe.

Iew.

Theſe be the chriſtian husbands, I haue a daughter

vvould any of the ſtocke of Barrabas

had beene her husband, rather then a Chriſtian.

We trifle time, I pray thee purſue ſentence.

Por.

A pound of that ſame Merchants fleſh is thine,

the Court awards it, and the law doth giue it.

Jew.

Moſt rightfull Iudge.

Por.

And you muſt cut this fleſh from off his breaſt,

the law alowes it, and the court awards it.

Jew.

Moſt learned Iudge, a ſentence, come prepare.

Por.

Tarry a little, there is ſome thing elſe,

this bond doth giue thee heere no iote of blood,

the words expreſly are a pound of fleſh:

take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of fleſh,

but in the cutting it, if thou dooſt ſhed

one drop of Chriſtian blood, thy lands and goods

are by the lawes of Venice confiſcate

vnto the ſtate of Venice.

Gra.

O vpright Iudge,

Marke Iew, ô learned Iudge.

Shy.

Is that the law?

Por.

Thy ſelfe ſhalt ſee the Act:

for as thou vrgeſt iuſtice, be aſſurd

thou ſhalt haue iuſtice more then thou deſirſt.

Gra.

O learned iudge, mark Iew, a learned iudge.

Iew.

I take this offer then, pay the bond thrice

and let the Chriſtian goe.

[Page]Baſſ.

Heere is the money.

Por.

Soft, the Iew ſhal haue all iuſtice, ſoft no haſt,

he ſhall haue nothing but the penalty.

Gra.

O Iew, an vpright Iudge, a learned Iudge.

Por.

Therefore prepare thee to cut of the fleſh,

Shed thou no blood, nor cut thou leſſe nor more

but iuſt a pound of fleſh: if thou tak'ſt more

or leſſe then a iuſt pound, be it but ſo much

as makes it light of heauy in the ſubſtance,

or the deuiſion of the twentith part

of one poore ſcruple, nay if the ſcale doe turne

but in the eſtimation of a hayre,

thou dyeſt, and all thy goods are confiſcate.

Gra.

A ſecond Daniell, a Daniell Iew,

now infidell I haue you on the hip.

Por.

Why doth the Iew pauſe, take thy forfaiture.

Shy.

Giue me my principall, and let me goe.

Baſſ.

I haue it ready for thee, here it is.

Por.

Hee hath refuſd it in the open Court,

hee ſhall haue meerely iuſtice and his bond.

Gra.

A Daniell ſtill ſay I, a ſecond Daniell,

I thanke thee Iew for teaching me that word.

Shy.

Shall I not haue barely my principall?

Por.

Thou ſhalt haue nothing but the forfaiture

to be ſo taken at thy perrill Iew.

Shy.

Why then the deuill giue him good of it:

Ile ſtay no longer queſtion.

Por.

Tarry Iew,

the law hath yet another hold on you.

It is enacted in the lawes of Venice,

if it be proued againſt an alien,

that by direct, or indirect attempts

he ſeeke the life of any Citizen,

the party gainſt the which he doth contriue,

ſhall ſeaze one halfe his goods, the other halfe

comes to the priuie cofler of the State,

and the offenders life lies in the mercy

[Page] of the Duke onely, gainſt all other voyce.

In which predicament I ſay thou ſtandſt:

for it appeares by manifeſt proceeding,

that indirectly, and directly to

thou haſt contriued againſt the very life

of the defendant: and thou haſt incurd

the danger formorly by me rehearſt.

Downe therefore, and beg mercie of the Duke.

Gra.

Beg that thou maiſt haue leaue to hang thy ſelfe,

and yet thy wealth beeing forfait to the ſtate,

thou haſt not left the value of a cord,

therefore thou muſt be hangd at the ſtates charge.

Duke.

That thou ſhalt ſee the difference of our ſpirit

I pardon thee thy life before thou aske it:

for halfe thy wealth, it is Anthonios,

the other halfe comes to the generall ſtate,

vvhich humblenes may driue vnto a fine.

Por.

I for the ſtate, not for Anthonio.

Shy.

Nay, take my life and all, pardon not that,

you take my houſe, when you doe take the prop

that doth ſuſtaine my houſe: you take my life

vvhen you doe take the meanes whereby I liue.

Por.

What mercy can you render him Anthonio?

Gra.

A halter gratis, nothing elſe for Godſake.

Anth.

So pleaſe my Lord the Duke, & all the Court

to quit the fine for one halfe of his goods,

I am content: ſo he will let me haue

the other halfe in vſe, to render it

vpon his death vnto the Gentleman

that lately ſtole his daughter.

Two things prouided more, that for this fauour

he preſently become a Chriſtian:

the other, that he doe record a gift

heere in the Court of all he dies poſſeſt

vnto his ſonne Lorenzo and his daughter.

Duke.

He ſhall doe this, or elſe I doe recant

the pardon that I late pronounced heere.

[Page]Por.

Art thou contented Iew? what doſt thou ſay?

Shy.

I am content.

Por.

Clarke, draw a deede of gift.

Shy.

I pray you giue me leaue to goe from hence,

I am not well, ſend the deede after me,

and I will ſigne it.

Duke.

Get thee gone, but doe it.

Shy.

In chriſtning ſhalt thou haue two Godfathers,

had I beene iudge, thou ſhouldſt haue had ten more,

to bring thee to the gallowes, not to the font.

Exit.

Duke.

Sir I entreate you home with me to dinner.

Por.

I humbly doe deſire your Grace of pardon,

I muſt away this night toward Padua,

and it is meete I preſently ſet forth.

Duke.

I am ſorry that your leyſure ſerues you not.

Anthonio, gratifie this gentleman,

for in my mind you are much bound to him.

Exit Duke and his traine.

Baſſ.

Moſt worthy gentleman, I and my friend

haue by your wiſedome been this day aquitted

of greeuous penalties, in Iewe whereof,

three thouſand ducats due vnto the Iew

wee freely cope your curtious paines withall.

An.

And ſtand indebted ouer and aboue

in loue and ſeruice to you euer-more.

Por.

Hee is well payd that is well ſatisfied,

and I deliuering you, am ſatisfied,

and therein doe account my ſelfe well payd,

my minde was neuer yet more mercinarie.

I pray you know me when we meete againe,

I wiſh you well, and ſo I take my leaue.

Baſſ.

Deere ſir, of force I muſt attempt you further,

take ſome remembrance of vs as a tribute,

not as fee: graunt me two things I pray you,

not to deny me, and to pardon me.

Por.

You preſſe me farre, and therefore I wil yeeld,

giue mee your gloues, Ile weare them for your ſake,

[Page] and for your loue ile take this ring from you,

doe not draw back your hand, ile take no more,

and you in loue ſhall not denie me this?

Baſſ.

This ring good ſir, alas it is a trifle,

I will not ſhame my ſelfe to giue you this?

Por.

I will haue nothing elſe but onely this,

and now me thinks I haue a minde to it?

Baſſ.

There's more depends on this then on the valew,

the deareſt ring in Venice will I giue you,

and finde it out by proclamation,

onely for this I pray you pardon me?

Por.

I ſee ſir you are liberall in offers,

you taught me firſt to beg, and now me thinks

you teach me how a begger ſhould be aunſwerd.

Baſſ.

Good ſir, this ring was giuen me by my wife,

and when ſhe put it on, ſhe made me vowe

that I ſhould neither ſell, nor giue, nor looſe it.

Por.

That ſcuſe ſerues many men to ſaue their gifts,

and if your wife be not a mad woman,

and know how well I haue deſeru'd this ring,

ſhe would not hold out enemy for euer

for giuing it to me: vvell, peace be with you.

Exeunt.

Anth.

My L. Baſſanio, let him haue the ring,

let his deſeruings and my loue withall

be valued gainſt your wiues commaundement.

Baſſ.

Goe Gratiano, runne and ouer-take him,

giue him the ring, and bring him if thou canſt

vnto Anthonios houſe, away, make haſt.

Exit Gratiano.

Come, you and I will thither preſently,

and in the morning early will we both

flie toward Belmont, come Anthonio.

Exeunt.

Enter Nerriſſa.

Por.

Enquire the Iewes houſe out, giue him this deed,

and let him ſigne it, weele away to night,

and be a day before our husbands home:

this deede will be well welcome to Lorenzo?

[Page]

Enter Gratiano.

Grati.

Faire ſir, you are well ore-tane:

My L. Baſſanio vpon more aduice,

hath ſent you heere this ring, and doth intreate

your company at dinner.

Por.

That cannot be;

his ring I doe accept moſt thankfully,

and ſo I pray you tell him: furthermore,

I pray you ſhew my youth old Shylockes houſe.

Gra.

That will I doe.

Ner.

Sir, I would ſpeake with you:

Ile ſee if I can get my husbands ring

vvhich I did make him ſweare to keepe for euer.

Por.

Thou maiſt I warrant, we ſhal haue old ſwearing

that they did giue the rings away to men;

but wele out-face them, and out-ſweare them to:

away, make haſt, thou knowſt where I will tarry.

Ner.

Come good ſir, will yov ſhew me to this houſe.

Enter Lorenzo and Ieſſica.

Lor.

The moone ſhines bright. In ſuch a night as this,

vvhen the ſweet winde did gently kiſſe the trees,

and they did make no noyſe, in ſuch a night

Troylus me thinks mounted the Troian walls,

and ſigh'd his ſoule toward the Grecian tents

vvhere Creſſed lay that night.

Jeſſi.

In ſuch a night

did Thiſbie fearefully ore-trip the dewe,

and ſaw the Lyons ſhadow ere him ſelfe,

and ranne diſmayed away.

Loren.

In ſuch a night

ſtoode Dido with a willow in her hand

vpon the wilde ſea banks, and waft her Loue

to come againe to Carthage.

Ieſſi.

In ſuch a night

Medea gathered the inchanted hearbs

that did renew old Eſon.

Loren.

In ſuch a night

[Page] did Ieſſica ſteale from the wealthy Iewe,

and with an vnthrift loue did runne from Venice,

as farre as Belmont.

Ieſſi.

In ſuch a night

did young Lorenzo ſweare he loued her well,

ſtealing her ſoule with many vowes of faith,

and nere a true one.

Loren.

In ſuch a night

did pretty Ieſſica (like a little ſhrow)

ſlaunder her Loue, and he forgaue it her.

Ieſſi.

I would out-night you did no body come:

But harke, I heare the footing of a man.

Enter a Meſſenger.

Loren.

Who comes ſo faſt in ſilence of the night?

Meſſen.

A friend?

Loren.

A friend, what friend, your name I pray you friend?

Meſſ.

Stephano is my name, and I bring word

my Miſtres will before the breake of day

be heere at Belmont, ſhe doth ſtray about

by holy croſſes where ſhe kneeles and prayes

for happy wedlock houres.

Loren.

Who comes with her?

Meſſ.

None but a holy Hermit and her mayd:

I pray you is my Maiſter yet returnd?

Loren.

He is not, nor we haue not heard from him,

But goe we in I pray thee Ieſſica,

and ceremoniouſly let vs prepare

ſome welcome for the Miſtres of the houſe.

Enter Clowne.

Clowne.

Sola, ſola: wo ha, ho ſola, ſola.

Loren.

Who calls?

Clo.

Sola, did you ſee M. Lorenzo, & M. Lorenzo ſola, ſola.

Loren.

Leaue hollowing man, heere.

Clowne.

Sola, where, where?

Loren.

Heere?

Clow.

Tell him there's a Poſt come from my Maiſter, with his horne full of good newes, my Maiſter will be heere ere morning ſweete ſoule.

[Page]Loren.

Let's in, and there expect their comming.

And yet no matter: why ſhould we goe in.

My friend Stephen, ſignifie pray you

vvithin the houſe, your miſtres is at hand,

and bring your muſique foorth into the ayre.

How ſweet the moone-light ſleepes vpon this banke,

heere will we ſit, and let the ſounds of muſique

creepe in our eares ſoft ſtilnes, and the night

become the tutches of ſweet harmonie:

ſit Ieſſica, looke how the floore of heauen

is thick inlayed with pattens of bright gold,

there's not the ſmalleſt orbe which thou beholdſt

but in his motion like an Angell ſings,

ſtill quiring to the young eyde Cherubins;

ſuch harmonie is in immortall ſoules,

but whilſt this muddy veſture of decay

dooth groſly cloſe it in, we cannot heare it:

Come hoe, and wake Diana with a himne,

vvith ſweeteſt tutches pearce your miſtres eare,

and draw her home with muſique.

play Muſique.

Ieſſi.

I am neuer merry when I heare ſweet muſique.

Loren.

The reaſon is▪ your ſpirits are attentiue:

for doe but note a wild and wanton heard

or race of youthfull and vnhandled colts

fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neghing loude,

vvhich is the hote condition of their blood,

if they but heare perchance a trumpet ſound,

or any ayre of muſique touch their eares,

you ſhall perceaue them make a mutuall ſtand,

their ſauage eyes turn'd to a modeſt gaze,

by the ſweet power of muſique: therefore the Poet

did faine that Orpheus drew trees, ſtones, and floods.

Since naught ſo ſtockiſh hard and full of rage,

but muſique for the time doth change his nature,

the man that hath no muſique in himſelfe,

nor is not moued with concord of ſweet ſounds,

is fit for treaſons, ſtratagems, and ſpoiles,

[Page] the motions of his ſpirit are dull as night,

and his affections darke as Terebus:

let no ſuch man be truſted: marke the muſique.

Enter Portia and Nerriſſa.

Por.

That light we ſee is burning in my hall:

how farre that little candell throwes his beames,

ſo ſhines a good deede in a naughty world.

Ner.

When the moone ſhone we did not ſee the candle?

Por.

So dooth the greater glory dim the leſſe,

a ſubſtitute ſhines brightly as a King

vntill a King be by, and then his ſtate

empties it ſelfe, as doth an inland brooke

into the maine of waters: muſique harke.

Ner.

It is your muſique Madame of the houſe?

Por.

Nothing is good I ſee without reſpect,

me thinks it ſounds much ſweeter then by day?

Ner.

Silence beſtowes that vertue on it Madam?

Por.

The Crow doth ſing as ſweetly as the Larke

vvhen neither is attended: and I thinke

the Nightingale if ſhe ſhould ſing by day

vvhen euery Gooſe is cackling, would be thought

no better a Muſition then the Renne?

How many things by ſeaſon, ſeaſond are

to their right prayſe, and true perfection:

Peace, how the moone ſleepes with Endimion,

and would not be awak'd.

Loren.

That is the voyce,

or I am much deceau'd of Portia.

Por.

He knowes me as the blind man knowes the Cuckoe

by the bad voyce?

Loren.

Deere Lady welcome home?

Por.

We haue bin praying for our husbands welfare,

vvhich ſpeed we hope the better for our words:

are they return'd?

Loren.

Madam, they are not yet:

but there is come a Meſſenger before

to ſignifie their comming?

[Page]Por.

Goe in Nerriſſa.

Giue order to my ſeruants, that they take

no note at all of our being abſent hence,

nor you Lorenzo, Jeſſica nor you.

Loren.

Your husband is at hand, I heare his trumpet,

vve are no tell-tales Madame, feare you not.

Por.

This night me thinks is but the day light ſicke,

it lookes a little paler, tis a day,

ſuch as the day is when the ſunne is hid.

Enter Baſſanio, Anthonio, Gratiano, and their followers.

Baſſ.

We ſhould hold day with the Antipodes,

if you would walke in abſence of the ſunne.

Por.

Let me giue light, but let me not be light,

for a light wife doth make a heauie husband,

and neuer be Baſſanio ſo for me,

but God ſort all: you are welcome home my Lord.

Baſſ.

I thank you Madam, giue welcome to my friend,

this is the man, this is Anthonio,

to whom I am ſo infinitely bound.

Por.

You ſhould in all ſence be much bound to him,

for as I heare he was much bound for you.

Anth.

No more then I am well acquitted of.

Por.

Sir, you are very welcome to our houſe:

it muſt appeare in other wayes then words,

therefore I ſcant this breathing curteſie.

Gra.

By yonder moone I ſweare you doe me wrong,

infaith I gaue it to the Iudges Clarke,

vvould he were gelt that had it for my part,

ſince you doe take it Loue ſo much at hart.

Por.

A quarrell hoe already, what's the matter?

Grati.

About a hoope of gold, a paltry ring

that ſhe did giue me, whoſe poſie was

for all the world like Cutlers poetry

vpon a knife, Loue me, and leaue me not.

Ner.

What talke you of the poſie or the valew:

You ſwore to me when I did giue you,

[Page] that you would weare it till your houre of death,

and that it ſhould lie with you in your graue,

though not for me, yet for your vehement oathes,

you ſhould haue beene reſpectiue and haue kept it.

Gaue it a Iudges Clarke: no Gods my Iudge

the Clarke will nere weare haire ons face that had it.

Gra.

He will, and if he liue to be a man.

Nerriſſa.

I, if a woman liue to be a man.

Gra.

Now by this hand I gaue it to a youth,

a kind of boy, a little ſcrubbed boy,

no higher then thy ſelfe, the Iudges Clarke,

a prating boy that begd it as a fee,

I could not for my hart deny it him.

Por.

You were to blame, I muſt be plaine with you,

to part ſo ſlightly with your wiues firſt gift,

a thing ſtuck on with oaths vpon your finger,

and ſo riueted with faith vnto your fleſh.

I gaue my Loue a ring, and made him ſweare

neuer to part with it, and heere he ſtands:

I dare be ſworne for him he would not leaue it,

nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth

that the world maiſters. Now in faith Gratiano

you giue your wife too vnkind a cauſe of griefe,

and twere to me I ſhould be mad at it.

Baſſ.

Why I were beſt to cut my left hand off,

and ſweare I loſt the ring defending it.

Gra.

My Lord Baſſanio gaue his ring away

vnto the Iudge that begd it, and indeede

deſeru'd it to? and then the boy his Clarke

that tooke ſome paines in writing, he begd mine,

and neither man nor maiſter would take ought

but the two rings.

Por.

What ring gaue you my Lord?

Not that I hope which you receau'd of me.

Baſſ.

If I could add a lie vnto a fault,

I would deny it: but you ſee my finger

hath not the ring vpon it, it is gone.

[Page]Por.

Euen ſo voyd is your falſe hart of truth.

By heauen I will nere come in your bed

vntill I ſee the ring?

Ner.

Nor I in yours

till I againe ſee mine?

Baſſ.

Sweet Portia,

if you did know to whom I gaue the ring,

if you did know for whom I gaue the ring,

and would conceaue for what I gaue the ring,

and how vnwillingly I left the ring,

vvhen naught would be accepted but the ring,

you would abate the ſtrength of your diſpleaſure?

Por.

If you had knowne the vertue of the ring,

or halfe her worthines that gaue the ring,

or your owne honour to containe the ring,

you would not then haue parted with the ring:

vvhat man is there ſo much vnreaſonable

if you had pleaſd to haue defended it

vvith any termes of zeale: wanted the modeſty

to vrge the thing held as a ceremonie:

Nerriſſa teaches me what to beleeue,

ile die for't, but ſome woman had the ring?

Baſſ.

No by my honour Madam, by my ſoule

no woman had it, but a ciuill Doctor,

vvhich did refuſe three thouſand ducats of me,

and begd the ring, the which I did denie him,

and ſufferd him to goe diſpleaſd away,

euen he that had held vp the very life

of my deere friend. What ſhould I ſay ſweet Lady,

I was inforc'd to ſend it after him,

I was beſet with ſhame and curteſie,

my honour would not let ingratitude

ſo much beſmere it: pardon me good Lady,

for by theſe bleſſed candels of the night,

had you been there, I think you would haue begd

the ring of me to giue the worthy Doctor?

Por.

Let not that Doctor ere come neere my houſe

[Page] ſince he hath got the iewell that I loued,

and that which you did ſweare to keepe for me,

I will become as liberall as you,

Ile not deny him any thing I haue,

no, not my body, nor my husbands bed:

Know him I ſhall, I am well ſure of it.

Lie not a night from home. Watch me like Argos,

if you doe not, if I be left alone,

now by mine honour which is yet mine owne.

ile haue that Doctor for mine bedfellow.

Nerriſſa.

And I his Clark: therefore be well aduiſd

how you doe leaue me to mine owne protection.

Gra.

Well doe you ſo: let not me take him then,

for if I doe, ile mar the young Clarks pen.

Anth.

I am th'vnhappy ſubiect of theſe quarrells.

Por.

Sir, greeue not you, you are welcome notwithſtanding.

Baſſ.

Portia, forgiue me this enforced wrong,

and in the hearing of theſe many friends

I ſweare to thee, euen by thine owne faire eyes

vvherein I ſee my ſelfe.

Por.

Marke you but that?

In both my eyes he doubly ſees himſelfe:

In each eye one, ſweare by your double ſelfe,

and there's an oath of credite.

Baſſ.

Nay, but heare me.

Pardon this fault, and by my ſoule I ſweare

I neuer more will breake an oath with thee.

Anth.

I once did lend my body for his wealth,

vvhich but for him that had your husbands ring

had quite miſcaried. I dare be bound againe,

my ſoule vpon the forfet, that your Lord

vvill neuer more breake faith aduiſedly.

Por.

Then you ſhall be his ſurety: giue him this,

and bid him keepe it better then the other.

Antho.

Here Lord Baſſanio, ſweare to keepe this ring.

Baſſ.

By heauen it is the ſame I gaue the Doctor.

Por.

I had it of him: pardon me Baſſanio,

[Page] for by this ring the Doctor lay with me.

Nerriſſa.

And pardon me my gentle Gratiano,

for that ſame ſcrubbed boy the Doctors Clarke

in liew of this, laſt night did he with me.

Grati.

Why this is like the mending of high wayes

in Sommer where the wayes are faire enough?

What, are we cuckolds ere we haue deſeru'd it.

Por.

Speake not ſo groſly, you are all amaz'd;

Heere is a letter, reade it at your leaſure,

It comes from Padua from Bellario,

there you ſhall finde that Portia was the Doctor,

Nerriſſa there her Clarke. Lorenzo heere

ſhall witnes I ſet foorth as ſoone as you,

and euen but now returnd: I haue not yet

enterd my houſe. Anthonio you are welcome,

and I haue better newes in ſtore for you

than you exſpect: vnſeale this letter ſoone,

there you ſhall finde three of your Argoſies

are richly come to harbour ſodainly.

You ſhall not know by what ſtrange accident

I chaunced on this letter.

Antho.

I am dumb?

Baſſ.

Were you the Doctor, and I knew you not?

Gra.

Were you the Clark that is to make me cuckold.

Ner.

I but the Clarke that neuer meanes to doe it,

vnleſſe he liue vntill he be a man.

Baſſ.

(Sweet Doctor) you ſhall be my bedfellow,

vvhen I am abſent then lie with my wife.

An.

(Sweet Lady) you haue giuen me life and lyuing;

for heere I reade for certaine that my ſhips

are ſafely come to Rode.

Por.

How now Lorenzo?

my Clarke hath ſome good comforts to for you.

Ner

I, and ile giue them him without a fee.

There doe I giue to you and Ieſſica

from the rich Iewe, a ſpeciall deede of gift

after his death, of all he dies poſſeſt of.

[Page]Loren.

Faire Ladies, you drop Manna in the way

of ſtarued people.

Por.

It is almoſt morning,

and yet I am ſure you are not ſatisfied

of theſe euents at full. Let vs goe in,

and charge vs there vpon intergotories,

and we will aunſwer all things faithfully.

Gra.

Let it be ſo, the firſt intergory

that my Nerriſſa ſhall be ſworne on, is,

vvhether till the next night ſhe had rather ſtay,

or goe to bed now being two houres to day:

But were the day come, I ſhould wiſh it darke

till I were couching with the Doctors Clarke.

Well, while I liue, ile feare no other thing

ſo ſore, as keeping ſafe Nerriſſas ring.

Exeunt.

FINIS.

§

[Page]

[Page]

The moſt excellent Hiſtorie of the Merchant of Venice.

VVith the extreame crueltie of Shylocke the Iewe towards the ſayd Merchant, in cutting a iuſt pound of his fleſh: and the obtayning of Portia by the choyſe of three cheſts.

As it hath beene diuers times acted by the Lord Chamberlaine his Seruants.

Written by William Shakeſpeare.

AT LONDON, Printed by I. R. for Thomas Heyes, and are to be ſold in Paules Church-yard, at the ſigne of the Greene Dragon. 1600.

Information about this book

Title statement

The most excellent historie of the merchant of Venice VVith the extreame crueltie of Shylocke the Iewe towards the sayd merchant, in cutting a iust pound of his flesh: and the obtayning of Portia by the choyse of three chests. As it hath beene diuers times acted by the Lord Chamberlaine his Seruants. Written by William Shakespeare.Merchant of Venice

Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616.

Edition statement

1600

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2005-12 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A68727

ID [STC]

STC 22296

ID [STC]

ESTC S111215

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

99846609

ID [PROQUEST]

99846609

ID [VID]

11589

Availability

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A68727)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 11589)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 340:7, 538:12)

Source

— The most excellent historie of the merchant of Venice VVith the extreame crueltie of Shylocke the Iewe towards the sayd merchant, in cutting a iust pound of his flesh: and the obtayning of Portia by the choyse of three chests. As it hath beene diuers times acted by the Lord Chamberlaine his Seruants. Written by William Shakespeare., Merchant of Venice, Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616..

Extent

[76] p.

Printed by I[ames] R[oberts] for Thomas Heyes, and are to be sold in Paules Church-yard, at the signe of the Greene Dragon,. At London :: 1600.. (Mostly in verse.) (Printer's name from STC.) (Signatures: A-I⁴ K² .) (Running title reads: The comicall historie of the merchant of Venice.) (Reproductions of the originals in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery.) (Appears at reel 340 (Huntington copy 59956) and at reel 538 (copy 59553).)

Creation

Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford.

Editorial practices

EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO.

EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org).

The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source.

Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data.

Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so.

Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor.

The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines.

Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements).

Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site.