Imágenes de páginas

tteman: but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy, (God rest his soul !) alive or dead?

f 11 Mn Do you not know me, father?

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

Latin. Nay, Indeed) if you had your eyes, you might fail of the knowing me: it is a wise father, that knows his own child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son: Give me your blessing: truth will come to light; murder cannot he hid long, a man's son may; but, in the end, truth will out.

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

Latin. Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but give me your blessing; I am Launcelot, your boy that was, your son that is, your child that shall be.

Gob. I cannot think, you are my son.

Latin. 1 know not what I shall think of that: but I am Launcelot, the Jew's man: and, I am sure, Margery, your wife, is my mother.

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

Latin. It should seem then, that Dobbin's tail grows backward; I am sure he had more hair on his tall, than I have on my face, when I last saw him.

Gob. Lord, how ait thou changed! How dost thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a present; How 'gree you now?

Laun. Well, well; but, for mine own part, as I have set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest till I have run some ground: my master's a very Jew; Give him a present! give him a halter: I am famish'd In his service; you may tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come; give me your present to one master Bassanio, who, Indeed, gives rare new liveries; if I serve not him, I will run as far as God has any ground.—O rare fortune! here comes the man ;— to him, father; for I am a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer.

Enter Bassanio, with Leonardo, and other

Rat$. You may do so:—but let it be so hasted, that supper he ready at the farthest by five of the clock: See these letters delivered; put the liveries to making; and desire Gratlano to come anon to my lodging. [Exit a Servant.

Laun. To him, father.

Gob. God bless your worship!

Bats. Graraercy ; Would'st thou aught with me?

Gob. Here's my son, sir, a poor boy,

Laun. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man; that would, sir, as my father shall specify,

Gob. He bath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to serve

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

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

Laun, To 1* brief, the very truth is, that the Jew having done me Wtothj, doth cause me, as my father, being I hope an old man, shall frutify unto you,

Gob. I have here a dish of doves, that I would bestow upon your worship; and my suit is,

Laun. In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself, as your worship shall know by this honest old man; and, though I say it, though old man, yet, poor man, my father.

Bass. One speak for both;—What would you?

Laun. Serve you, sir.

Goo. This is the very defect of the matter, sir. Boat. I know thee well, thou hast obtain'd thy suit:

Shylock, thy master, spoke with me this day,
And hath preferred thee, if It be preferment.
To leave a rich Jew's service, to become
The follower of so poor a gentleman.

Laun. The old proverb is very well parted between my master Shylock and you, sir; you have the grace of God, sir, and he hath enough.

Ban. Thou speak'st it well; Go, father, with thy son:—

Take leave of thy old master, and enquire
My lodging out:—give him a livery

[To hit Follonter*. More guarded than his fellows': See it done.

Laun. Father, in :—t cannot get a service, no; —I have ne'er a tongue in my head—WeH; [looking on hit palm.] if any man in Italy have a fairer table, which doth offer to swear upon a book.—I shall have good fortune; Go to, here's a simple line of life! here's a small trifle of wives: Alas, fifteen wives is nothing; eleven widows, and nine maids, is a simple coming in for one man: and then, to 'scape drowning thrice; and to be in peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed ;—here are simple 'scapes 1 Well, if fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this gear—Father, come; I'll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye.

[Exeunt Launcelot ana* Old Gobbo.

Bait. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this; These things being bought, and orderly bestow'd, Return in haste, for I do feast to-night My best-esteem'd acquaintance: hie thee, go.

Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein. Enter Gratiano.

Gra. Where is your master?

Leon. Yonder, sir, he walks.

[Exit Leonardo.

Gra. Slgnior Bassanio,

Bait. Gratiano!

Gra. I have a suit to yon.

Bait. You have obtain'd it.

Gra. You must not deny me; I must go with

yon to Belmont. Bait. Why, then you must;—But hear thee,


Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice;

Parts, that become thee happily enough,

And in such eyes as ours appear not faults;

But where thou art not known, why, there they

Something too liberal:—pray thee take pain
To allay with some cold drops of modesty
Thy skipping spirit; test, through thy wild beha-
I be misconstrued in the place I go to, [viour,
And lose my hopes.

Gra. Slgnior Bassanio, hear me:

If I do not put on a sober habit,
Talk with respect, and swear but now and then.
Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say, amen;
Use all the observance of civility,
Like one well studied In a sad ostent
To please his grandam, never trust me more.

Ban. Well, we shall see your bearing.

Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night; you shall not gage By what we do to-night. [me

Ban. No, that were pity;

I would entreat you rather to put on
Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends
That purpose merriment: But fare you well,
I have some business.

Gra. And I must to Lorenzo, and the rest;
But we will visit you at supper-time. [Exeunt.

SCENE III Thisame. A Room in Shy lock's


Enter Jessica and Launcelot.

Jet. I am sorry, thou wilt leave my father so; Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil. Didst rob it of some taste of tedlousness

Bat fare thee well: there is a ducat for thee.
And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest:
Give him this letter ; do it secretly,
And so farewell ; I would not have ray father
See rae talk with thee.

Laun. Adieu '.—tears exhibit my tongue.— Most heautiful pagan,—most sweet Jew! If a Christian do not play the knave, and get thee, I am much deceived: But, adieu! these foolish drops do toraewhat drown my manly spirit; adieu! [Exit.

Jet. Farewell, good Launcelot. Alack, what heinous sin is it in me, To be asham'd to be my father's child! But though I am a daughter to his blood, I am not to his manners : O Lorenzo, If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife; Become a christian,and thy loving wife. [Exit.

SCENE IV The tame. A Street.

Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio. Lor. Nay, we will slink away in supper-time; Disguise us at my lodging, and return All in an hour.

Gra. We have not made good preparation. Salar. We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers, Satan. *Tis vile,Unless it may be quaintly order'd; And better, in my mind, not undertook.

Lor. *Tis now but four o'clock; we have two To furnish us ;— [hours Enter Launcelot, tvilh a letter.

Friend Launcelot, what's the news?

Loan. An it shall please you to break up this, it shall seem to signify.

Lor. I know the hand: In faith, 'tis a fair hand; And whiter than the paper it wilt on, Is the fair hand that writ.

Gra. Love-news, In faith.

Law*. By your leave, sir.

Lor. Whither goest thou?

Laun. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup to-night with my new master the Christian.

Lor. Hold here, take this :~tell gentle Jessica, I

will not fail her ;—speak it privately ; go

(ientlemen, '[Exit Launcelot.

Will you prepare you for this masque to-night?
I am provided of a torch-bearer.

Salar. Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it straight.

Satan. And so will I.

Lor. Meet me, and Gratiano,

At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence.
Salar. 'Tis good we do so.

[Exeunt Salar. and Salan.
Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica?
Lor. I must needs tell thee all: She hath

How I shall take her from her father's house;
What gold, and jewels, she is fumish'd with;
What page's suit she hath in readiness.
If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven,
It will be for his gentle daughter's sake:
And never dare misfortune cross her foot,
Unless she do it under this excuse,—
That she is issue to a faithless Jew.
Come, go with me; peruse this, as thou goest i
Fair Jessica shall he my torch-bearer. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.—The tame. Before Shylock's House.
Enter Sbylock and Launcelot.
Sky. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy

The difference of old Shylock and Bassanin :—
What, Jessica !—thou shalt not gormandize,
As thou hast done with me;—What, Jessica!—
And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out;—
Why, Jessica, I say!

Laun. Why, Jessica!

Shy. Who bids thee call ? I do not bid thee call.

Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me, I could do nothing without bidding.

Enter Jessica.

Jet. Call you? What is your will?

Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica; There are my keys :—But wherefore should I go? I am not bid for love ; they flatter me: But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon The prodigal Christian—Jessica, my girl, Look to my house: 1 am right loath to go; There is some ill a brewing towards my rest. For I did dream of money-bags to-night.

Laun. I beseech you, sir, go; my young master doth expect your reproach.

Sky. So do I his.

Laun. And they have conspired together,—I will not say, you shall see a masque; but if you do, then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a bleeding on last, at six o'clock i'the morning, falling out that year on Ash-Wednesday was four year in the afternoon.

Shy. What ; are there masques? Hear you me,

Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum,
And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fife,
Clamber not you up to the casements then.
Nor thrust your head into the public street,
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces:
But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements;
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter

My sober house By Jacob's staff, I swear,

I have no mind of feasting forth to-night:
But I will go.—Go you before me, sirrah;
Say, I will come.

Laun. I will go before, sir—

Mistress, look out at window, for all this;
There will come a Christian by,
Will be worth a Jewess' eye. LEieit L*un-

Shy. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha?

Jet. His words were, Farewell, mistress; nothing else.

Shy. The patch is kind enough; but a huge Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day [feeder, More than the wild cat; drones hive not with me , Therefore I part with him ; and part with him To one that I would have him help to waste His borrowed purse—Well, Jessica, go in; Perhaps, I will return immediately; Do, as I bid you,

Shut doors after you : Fast bind, fast find;

A proverb ne*er stale in thrifty mind. [Exit.

Jet. Farewell ; and if my fortune be not crost, 1 have a father, you a daughter, lost. [Exit.

SCENE VI.-TAe tame.
Enter Gratiano and Salarino, matjued.

Gra. This is the pent-house, under which LoDeslr'd us to make stand. [renzo Salar. His hour is almost past.

Gra. And it Is marvel he out-dwells his hour, For lovers ever run before the clock.

Salar. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly To seal love's bonds new made, than they are wont, To keen obliged faith unforfeited!

Gra. That ever holds ; who riseth from a feast, With that keen appetite that he sits down? Where is the horse that doth untread again His tedious measures with the unbated fire I That he did pace them first? All things that are, I Are wjth more spirit chased than enjoy'd. 'How like a yonnker, or a prodigal, The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, IHugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind! How like the prodigal doth she return; With over-weather'd ribs, and ragged sails, Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind '. Enter Lorenzo.

Salar. Here comes Lorenzo ;—more of this hereafter.

Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode;

Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait;
When You shall please to play the thieves for wives,
I'll watch as Ions for you then.—Approach;
Here dwells my father Jew:—Ho! who's within?
Enter Jessica, above, in boy's clothes.

Jet, Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty, Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue.

Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love,

Jes. Lorenzo, certain; and my lore, indeed; For who love I so much? and now who knows, But you, Lorenzo, whether 1 am yours?

Lor. Heaven, and thy thoughts, are witness that thou art.

Jet, Here* catch this casket; it is worth the pains. I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me. For I am much asham'd of my exchange: But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit; For if they could, Cupid himself would blush To see me thus transformed to a boy.

Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer.

Jet. What, must 1 hold a candle to my shames? They in themselves, good sooth, are too too light. Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love; And I should be obscur'd.

Lor. So are you, sweet,

Even in the lovely garnish of a boy.
Hut come at once;

For the close night doth play the run-away,
And we are staid for at Bassanlo's feast.

Jet. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself With some more ducats, and be with you straight.

[Exit from above.

Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew.

Lor. Heshrew me, but I love her heartily ■ For she is wise, if I can judge of her; And fair she is, If that mine eyes be true; And true she is, as she hath prov'd herself; And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true* Shall she be placed in my constant soul.

Enter Jessica, below.

What, art thou come ?—On, gentlemen, away;
Our masqulng mates by this time for us stay.

[Exit, with Jessica and Salarino.

Enter Antonio.
Ant. Who's there?
Gra. Sign lor Antonio?

Ant. Fye, fye, Gratiano! where are all the rest?
'Tis nine o'clock; our friends all stay for you :—
No masque to-night; the wind is come about,
Bassanio presently will go aboard;
I have sent twenty out to seek for you.

Gra. 1 am glad on't; I desire no more delight, Than to be under sail, and gone to-night. [Exeunt.

SCENE VII.—Belmont. A Room in Portia's House.

Flourish of Comets. Enter Portia, with the Prince
of Morocco, and both their Trains.
Par. Go, draw aside the curtains, and discover
The several caskets to this noble prince :—
Now make your choice.
Mor. The first, of gold, who this inscription

Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire.
The second, silver, which this promise carries
Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves.
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt ;—
Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath.
How shall I know if I do choose the right?
Par. The one of them contains my picture,

If you choose that, then I am yours withal.

Mor. Home god direct my judgment! Let me see, I will survey the inscriptions back again: What says this leaden casket? Who chooseth me, mutt give and hazard all he hath. Must give—For what? for lead? hazard for lead?

This casket threatens: Men, that hazard all,
Do it in hope of fair advantages:
A golden mind stoops not to (.hows of dross;
I'll then nor give, nor hazard, aught for lead.
What says the silver, with her virgin hue?
Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves.
As much as he deserves ?—Pause there, Morocco,
And weigh thy value with an even hand;
If thou be'st rated by thy estimation,
Thou dost deserve enough; and yet enough
May not extend so far as to the lady;
And yet to be afeard of my deserving,
Were but a weak disabling of myself.
As much as I deserve I—Why, that's the lady:
I do in birth deserve her, and In fortunes,
In graces, and in qualities of breeding;
But more than these, in love I do deserve.
What if I srray'd no further, but chose here ?—
Let's see once more this saying grav'd in gold:
Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire.
Why, that's the lady: all the world desires her:
From the four corners of the earth they come,
To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint.
The Hyrcanian deserts, and the vasty wilds
Of wide Arabia, are as through-fares now,
For princes to come view fair Portia:
The watry kingdom, whose ambitious head
Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar
To stop the foreign spirits; but they come,
As o'er a brook, to see fair 1'ortia.
One of these three contains her heavenly picture.
1st like, that lead contains her ? "i'were damnation.
To think so base a thought: it were too gross
To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave.
Or shall 1 think, in silver she's immur'd,
Being ten times undervalued to try'd gold?
O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem
Was set in worse than gold. They have in England
A coin, that bears the figure of an angel
Stamped in gold; but that's insculp'd upon;
But here an angel in a golden bed
Lies all within—Deliver me the key;
Here do I choose, and thrive 1 as I may!
Par. There, take it, prince, and if my form lie

Then I am yours. [He unlocks the golden casket.

Mor.-Q hell! what have we here?
A carrion death, within whose empty eye
There is a written scroll? I'll read the writing.

All that glitters is not gold.
Often have you heard that told:
Many a man his life hath told,
But my outside to behold:
Gilded tombs do worms infold.
Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgment old,
Your answer had not been ittscroPd:
Fare you well; your suit is cold.
Cold, indeed; and labour lost:
Then, farewell, beat; and, welcome, frost.—
Portia, adieu! 1 have too griev'd a heart
To take a tedious leave: thus losers part. [Exit.
Par. A gentle riddance: Draw the curtains,

Let all of his complexion choose me so. [Exeunt.

SCENE VIII Venice. A Street.

Enter Salarino and Salanio.

Salar. Why man, I saw Bassanio under sail;
With him is Gratiano gone along;
And in their ship, I am sure, Lorenzo Is not.

Solan. The villain Jew with outcries rais'd tl» duke;

Who went with him to search Bassanle's ship.

Salar, He came too late, the ship was under sail -. But there the duke was given to understand, That in a gondola were seen together Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica; Besides, Antonio certlfy'd the duke, They were not with Bassanio in his ship.

Solan. I never heard a passion so confus'd, So strange, outrageous, and so variable. As the dog Jew did utter in the streets: Jfu daughter !O my ducats /—0 my daughter! Pud with a Christian tO my christian ducat* !Justice! the law! my ducats, and my daughter 1 A eeated bag, two sealed bags of ducats, Of double ducat*, *to?n from me by my daughter! And jewel*; two stones, two rich and precious stones, Statu by my daughter !Justice! find the girl! She hath the stones upon her, and the ducati!

Solar, Why, alt the boys in Venice follow him, Crying,—his stones, his daughter, and his ducats.

Satan. Let good Antonio loot he keep his day, Or he shall pay for this.

Salar. Marry, well remember'd:

I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday;
Who told me,—in the narrow seas, that part
The French and English, there miscarried
A vessel of our country, richly fraught:
I thought upon Antonio, when he told me;
And wish'd in silence, that It were not his.

Salan. You were best to tell Antonio what you

Vet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him.

Sator A kinder gentleman treads not the earth. I saw Bassanio and Antonio part: Bassanio told him, he would make some speed Of his return ; he answer'd—Do not so, Slubber not businett far my take, Battanio, But stay the very riping of the time; And for the Jew's bond, which he hath of me, Let it not enter in your mind of love: Be merry ; and employ your chief est thought* To courtship, and tuchfair ostents of love A* shall conveniently become you there: And even there, his eye being big with tears. Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, And with affection wondrous sensible He wrung Bassanio's hand, and so they parted.

Salan. I think, he only loves the world for him. I pray thee, let us go, and find him out, And quicken his embraced heaviness With some delight or other.

Salar. Do we so. [Exeunt.

SCENE IX—Belmont. A Room in Portia's

Enter Nerissa, with a Servant.

Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee, draw the curtain straight;

The prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath,
And comes to his election presently.
Flourish of Cornrts. Enter the Prince of Arragon,
Portia, and their Trains.

Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince;
If you choose that wherein I am conUin'd,
Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemniz'd;
But it you fail, without more speech, my lord,
You must be gone from hence immediately.

Ar. I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things; First, never to unfold to any one Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I fall Of the right casket, never in my life To woo a maid in way of marriage; lastly, If I do fail in fortune of my choice, Immediately to leave you and be gone.

Por. To these injunctions every one doth swear, That comes to hazard for my worthless self.

Ar. And so have I addres&'d me: Fortune now To my heart's hope !—Gold, silver, and hase lead. Who ehooseth me, must give and hazard aft he hath: You shall look fairer, ere I give, or hazard. What says the golden chest i> ha! let me see :— Who ehooseth me, shall gain what many men desire. What many men desire.—That many may be meant By the fool multitude, that choose by show, Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach; Which pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet,

Builds in the weather on the ontward wall,
Kven in the force and road of casualty.
I will not choose what many men desiie,
Because I will not jump with common spirits,
And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.
Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house;
Tell me once more what title thou dost bear:
Who ehooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves:
And well said too; For who shall go about
To cozen fortune, and be honourable
Without the stamp of merit! Let none presume
To wear an undeserved dignity.
O, that estates, degrees, and offices,
Were not deriv'd corruptly! and that clear honour
Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer!
How many then should cover, that stand bare?
How many be commanded, that command?
How much low peasantry would then be glean'd
From the true seed of honour? and how much

Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times.
To be new varnlsh'd? Well, but to my choice:
Who ehooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves:
I will assume desert;—Give me a key for this,
And instantly unlock my fortunes here,
i'or. Too long a pause for that which you find

Ar. What'shere? the portrait of ablinklng idiot. Presenting me a schedule? I will read it. Hovs much unlike art thou to Portia? How much unlike my hopes, and my deservings? Who ehooseth me, shall have a* much as he deserve*. Did I deserve no more than a fool's head? Is that my prize? are my deserts no better?

Por. To offend, and judge, are distinct offices.
And of opposed natures.
Ar. What is here?

The fire seven times tried this;
Seven times tried that judgment is,
That did never choose amiss;
Some there be, that shadows kits;
Such have but a shadow's bliss:
There are fools alive, I wis,
Silver'd o'er ; and to was this.
Take what wife you will to bed,
I mill ever be your head:
So begone, sir, you arc iped.
Still more fool I shall appear
By the time I linger here:
With one fool's head I came to woo,
But I go away with two—
Sweet, adieu! I'll keep my oath,
Patiently to bear my wroth.

[Exeunt Arragon and Train.
Por. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth.
O these deliberate fools! when they do choose.
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose.

Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy ;—
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
Por. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa.

Enter a Servant.
Serv. Where is my lady?

Por. Here; what would my lord?

Serv. Madam, there is alighted at your gate A young Venetian, one that comes before To signify the approaching of his lord: From whom he bringeth sensible regreets; To wit, besides commends, and courteous breath. Gifts of rich value; yet I have not seen So likely an ambassador of love: A day in April never came so sweet, To show how costly summer was at hand, As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord.

Por. No more, 1 pray thee; I am half afeard, Thou wilt say anon, he is some kin to thee, Thou spend'st such high-day w it in praising him.— Come, come, Nerissa; for I long to see Quick Cupid's post, that comes so mannerly. "Ner. Bassanio, lord love, If thy will it be*!

[Exeunt. ACT III.

SCENE I.—Venice. A Street.

Enter Salanio and SaUrino.

Satan. Now, what news on the Klalto t Salar. Why, yet it lives there uncheck'd, that Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wreck'd on the narrow seas; the Goodwins, I think they call the place; a very dangerous flat, and fatal, where the carcases of many a tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossip report be an honest woman of her word.

Satan. I would she were as lying a gossip in that, as ever knapp'd ginger, or made her neighbours believe she wept for the death of a third husband: But it is true,—without any slips of prolixity, or crossing the plain high-way of talk,—that the

good Antonio, the honest Antonio, U that I

had a title good enough to keep his name companj I—

Safer, Come, the full stop.

Salan. Ha,—what say'st thou ?—Why the end is, he hath lost a ship.

Salar. X would it might prove the end of his losses!

Salan. Let me fay amen betimes, lest the devil cross my prayer; for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew,—

Enter Shylock. How now, Sbylock? what news among the merchants?

Shy. You knew, none so wellt none so well as you, of my daughter's flight.

Salar. That's certain; 1, for my part, knew the tailor that made the wings she flew withal.

Salan. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the hird was fledg'd; and then it is the complexion of them all to leave the dam.

Shy. She is damn'd for it.

Salar. That's certain, if the devil may be her judge.

Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel!

Salan. Out upon it, old carrion! rebels It at these years?

Shy. 1 say, my daughter is my flesh and blood.

Salar. There is more difference between thy flesh and hers, than between jet and ivory; more between your bloods, than there is between red wine and rhenish :—But tell us, do you hear whether Antonio have had any loss at sea or no?

Shy. There I have another bad match s a bankrupt, a prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the Kialto;—a beggar, that used to come so smug upon the mart;—let him look to his bond: he was wont to call me usurer;—let him look to his bond 1 he was wont to lend money for a Christian courtesy ;—let him look to his bond.

Salar. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his flesh; What's that good for?

Shy. To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else, it will feed iny revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered me of half a million ; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies; and what's his reason? J am a Jew: Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? if you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die • and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? if we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? revenge; If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his surVerance be by Christian example? why, revenge. The villainy, you teach me,

I will execute; and it shall go hard, but I wil better the instruction.

Enter a Servant. Serv. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house, and desires to speak with you both.

Salar. We have been up and down to seek him.

Enter Tubal. Salan. Here comes another of the tribe; a third cannot be matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew. [Exeunt Salan. Salar. and Servant.

Sky. How now, Tubal, what news from Genoa? hast thou found my daughter?

Tub. I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot find her.

Shy. Why there, there, there, there! a diamond gone, cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort! The curse never fell upon our nation till now; I never felt it till now :—two thousand ducats in that; and other precious, precious jewels.—I would my daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels in her ear; 'would she were hears'd at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin! No news of them ?— Why, so:—and I know not what's spent in the search: Why, thou loss upon loss! the thief gone with so much, and so much to find the thief; and no satisfaction, no revenge: nor no ill luck stirring, but what lights o' my shoulders; no sighs, but o' my breathing; no tears, but o" my shedding.

Tub. Yes,other men have ill luck too; Antonio, as I heard in Genoa,—

Shy. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck? Tub. —hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis.

Shy. I thank God, 1 thank God:—Is it true? is it true?

Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wreck.

Shy. I thank thee, good Tubal;—Good news, good news: ha! ha !—Where? in Genoa?

Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, one night, fourscore ducats!

Sky. Thou stick'st a dagger in me: 1 shall

never see my gold again; Fourscore ducats at a sitting! fourscore ducats!

Tub. There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my company to Venice, that swear he cannot choose but break.

Shy. I am very glad of it: I'll plague hira; III torture him; I am glad of It.

Tub. One of them showed me a ring, that he had of your daughter for a monkey.

Shy. Out upon her! Thou torturest me, Tubal: it was my turquoise; I had it of Leah, when I was a bachelor: I would not have given it for a wilderness of monkeys. Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone. Shy. Nay, that's true, that's very true: Go, Tubal, fee me an officer, bespeak him a fortnight before: I will have the heart of hira, if he forfeit; for were he out of Venice, I can make what merchandize I will: Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue; go, good Tubal; at our synagogue, Tubal. [Exeunt.

SCENE II Belmont. A Room in Portia's Routt.

Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, Nerissa, and
Attendants. The catketa are set out.
Por. I pray you, tarry; pause a day or two,
Before you hazard; for, In choosing wrong,
I lose your company; therefore, forbear a while:
There's something tells me, (but it Is not love,}
I would not lose you; and you know yourself.
Hate counsels not in such a quality:
But lest you should not understand me well,
(And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,}
I would detain you here some month or two.
Before you venture for me. I could teach you,
How to choose right, but then I am forsworn j
So will I never be : so may you miss me;

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