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Merchant of Venice

 		|  suitors to Portia.
 ANTONIO	a merchant of Venice.
 BASSANIO	his friend, suitor likewise to Portia.
 	|  friends to Antonio and Bassanio.
 LORENZO	in love with Jessica.
 SHYLOCK	a rich Jew.
 TUBAL	a Jew, his friend.
 LAUNCELOT GOBBO	the clown, servant to SHYLOCK. (LAUNCELOT:)
 OLD GOBBO	father to Launcelot. (GOBBO:)
 	|  servants to PORTIA.
 PORTIA	a rich heiress.
 NERISSA	her waiting-maid.
 JESSICA	daughter to SHYLOCK.
 	Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice,
 	Gaoler, Servants to Portia, and other Attendants.
 SCENE	Partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont,
 	the seat of PORTIA, on the Continent.
 SCENE I	Venice. A street.
 ANTONIO	In sooth, I know not why I am so sad:
 	It wearies me; you say it wearies you;
 	But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
 	What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,
 	I am to learn;
 	And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
 	That I have much ado to know myself.
 SALARINO	Your mind is tossing on the ocean;
 	There, where your argosies with portly sail,
 	Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood,
 	Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea,
 	Do overpeer the petty traffickers,
 	That curtsy to them, do them reverence,
 	As they fly by them with their woven wings.
 SALANIO	Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth,
 	The better part of my affections would
 	Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
 	Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind,
 	Peering in maps for ports and piers and roads;
 	And every object that might make me fear
 	Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt
 	Would make me sad.
 SALARINO	                  My wind cooling my broth
 	Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
 	What harm a wind too great at sea might do.
 	I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
 	But I should think of shallows and of flats,
 	And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand,
 	Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs
 	To kiss her burial. Should I go to church
 	And see the holy edifice of stone,
 	And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks,
 	Which touching but my gentle vessel's side,
 	Would scatter all her spices on the stream,
 	Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks,
 	And, in a word, but even now worth this,
 	And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought
 	To think on this, and shall I lack the thought
 	That such a thing bechanced would make me sad?
 	But tell not me; I know, Antonio
 	Is sad to think upon his merchandise.
 ANTONIO	Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it,
 	My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,
 	Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
 	Upon the fortune of this present year:
 	Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad.
 SALARINO	Why, then you are in love.
 ANTONIO	Fie, fie!
 SALARINO	Not in love neither? Then let us say you are sad,
 	Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy
 	For you to laugh and leap and say you are merry,
 	Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus,
 	Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time:
 	Some that will evermore peep through their eyes
 	And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper,
 	And other of such vinegar aspect
 	That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,
 	Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.
 SALANIO	Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman,
 	Gratiano and Lorenzo. Fare ye well:
 	We leave you now with better company.
 SALARINO	I would have stay'd till I had made you merry,
 	If worthier friends had not prevented me.
 ANTONIO	Your worth is very dear in my regard.
 	I take it, your own business calls on you
 	And you embrace the occasion to depart.
 SALARINO	Good morrow, my good lords.
 BASSANIO	Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say, when?
 	You grow exceeding strange: must it be so?
 SALARINO	We'll make our leisures to attend on yours.
 	[Exeunt Salarino and Salanio]
 LORENZO	My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio,
 	We two will leave you: but at dinner-time,
 	I pray you, have in mind where we must meet.
 BASSANIO	I will not fail you.
 GRATIANO	You look not well, Signior Antonio;
 	You have too much respect upon the world:
 	They lose it that do buy it with much care:
 	Believe me, you are marvellously changed.
 ANTONIO	I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano;
 	A stage where every man must play a part,
 	And mine a sad one.
 GRATIANO	Let me play the fool:
 	With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come,
 	And let my liver rather heat with wine
 	Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
 	Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,
 	Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?
 	Sleep when he wakes and creep into the jaundice
 	By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio--
 	I love thee, and it is my love that speaks--
 	There are a sort of men whose visages
 	Do cream and mantle like a standing pond,
 	And do a wilful stillness entertain,
 	With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion
 	Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit,
 	As who should say 'I am Sir Oracle,
 	And when I ope my lips let no dog bark!'
 	O my Antonio, I do know of these
 	That therefore only are reputed wise
 	For saying nothing; when, I am very sure,
 	If they should speak, would almost damn those ears,
 	Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools.
 	I'll tell thee more of this another time:
 	But fish not, with this melancholy bait,
 	For this fool gudgeon, this opinion.
 	Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well awhile:
 	I'll end my exhortation after dinner.
 LORENZO	Well, we will leave you then till dinner-time:
 	I must be one of these same dumb wise men,
 	For Gratiano never lets me speak.
 GRATIANO	Well, keep me company but two years moe,
 	Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.
 ANTONIO	Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear.
 GRATIANO	Thanks, i' faith, for silence is only commendable
 	In a neat's tongue dried and a maid not vendible.
 ANTONIO	Is that any thing now?
 BASSANIO	Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more
 	than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two
 	grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you
 	shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you
 	have them, they are not worth the search.
 ANTONIO	Well, tell me now what lady is the same
 	To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,
 	That you to-day promised to tell me of?
 BASSANIO	'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
 	How much I have disabled mine estate,
 	By something showing a more swelling port
 	Than my faint means would grant continuance:
 	Nor do I now make moan to be abridged
 	From such a noble rate; but my chief care
 	Is to come fairly off from the great debts
 	Wherein my time something too prodigal
 	Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio,
 	I owe the most, in money and in love,
 	And from your love I have a warranty
 	To unburden all my plots and purposes
 	How to get clear of all the debts I owe.
 ANTONIO	I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it;
 	And if it stand, as you yourself still do,
 	Within the eye of honour, be assured,
 	My purse, my person, my extremest means,
 	Lie all unlock'd to your occasions.
 BASSANIO	In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft,
 	I shot his fellow of the self-same flight
 	The self-same way with more advised watch,
 	To find the other forth, and by adventuring both
 	I oft found both: I urge this childhood proof,
 	Because what follows is pure innocence.
 	I owe you much, and, like a wilful youth,
 	That which I owe is lost; but if you please
 	To shoot another arrow that self way
 	Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,
 	As I will watch the aim, or to find both
 	Or bring your latter hazard back again
 	And thankfully rest debtor for the first.
 ANTONIO	You know me well, and herein spend but time
 	To wind about my love with circumstance;
 	And out of doubt you do me now more wrong
 	In making question of my uttermost
 	Than if you had made waste of all I have:
 	Then do but say to me what I should do
 	That in your knowledge may by me be done,
 	And I am prest unto it: therefore, speak.
 BASSANIO	In Belmont is a lady richly left;
 	And she is fair, and, fairer than that word,
 	Of wondrous virtues: sometimes from her eyes
 	I did receive fair speechless messages:
 	Her name is Portia, nothing undervalued
 	To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia:
 	Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth,
 	For the four winds blow in from every coast
 	Renowned suitors, and her sunny locks
 	Hang on her temples like a golden fleece;
 	Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strand,
 	And many Jasons come in quest of her.
 	O my Antonio, had I but the means
 	To hold a rival place with one of them,
 	I have a mind presages me such thrift,
 	That I should questionless be fortunate!
 ANTONIO	Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea;
 	Neither have I money nor commodity
 	To raise a present sum: therefore go forth;
 	Try what my credit can in Venice do:
 	That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost,
 	To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia.
 	Go, presently inquire, and so will I,
 	Where money is, and I no question make
 	To have it of my trust or for my sake.
 SCENE II: Belmont. A room in PORTIA'S house.
 	[Enter PORTIA and NERISSA]
 PORTIA	By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of
 	this great world.
 NERISSA	You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in
 	the same abundance as your good fortunes are: and
 	yet, for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit
 	with too much as they that starve with nothing. It
 	is no mean happiness therefore, to be seated in the
 	mean: superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but
 	competency lives longer.
 PORTIA	Good sentences and well pronounced.
 NERISSA	They would be better, if well followed.
 PORTIA	If to do were as easy as to know what were good to
 	do, chapels had been churches and poor men's
 	cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that
 	follows his own instructions: I can easier teach
 	twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the
 	twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may
 	devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps
 	o'er a cold decree: such a hare is madness the
 	youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the
 	cripple. But this reasoning is not in the fashion to
 	choose me a husband. O me, the word 'choose!' I may
 	neither choose whom I would nor refuse whom I
 	dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curbed
 	by the will of a dead father. Is it not hard,
 	Nerissa, that I cannot choose one nor refuse none?
 NERISSA	Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men at their
 	death have good inspirations: therefore the lottery,
 	that he hath devised in these three chests of gold,
 	silver and lead, whereof who chooses his meaning
 	chooses you, will, no doubt, never be chosen by any
 	rightly but one who shall rightly love. But what
 	warmth is there in your affection towards any of
 	these princely suitors that are already come?
 PORTIA	I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou namest
 	them, I will describe them; and, according to my
 	description, level at my affection.
 NERISSA	First, there is the Neapolitan prince.
 PORTIA	Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but
 	talk of his horse; and he makes it a great
 	appropriation to his own good parts, that he can
 	shoe him himself. I am much afeard my lady his
 	mother played false with a smith.
 NERISSA	Then there is the County Palatine.
 PORTIA	He doth nothing but frown, as who should say 'If you
 	will not have me, choose:' he hears merry tales and
 	smiles not: I fear he will prove the weeping
 	philosopher when he grows old, being so full of
 	unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had rather be
 	married to a death's-head with a bone in his mouth
 	than to either of these. God defend me from these
 NERISSA	How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon?
 PORTIA	God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man.
 	In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker: but,
 	he! why, he hath a horse better than the
 	Neapolitan's, a better bad habit of frowning than
 	the Count Palatine; he is every man in no man; if a
 	throstle sing, he falls straight a capering: he will
 	fence with his own shadow: if I should marry him, I
 	should marry twenty husbands. If he would despise me
 	I would forgive him, for if he love me to madness, I
 	shall never requite him.
 NERISSA	What say you, then, to Falconbridge, the young baron
 	of England?
 PORTIA	You know I say nothing to him, for he understands
 	not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latin, French,
 	nor Italian, and you will come into the court and
 	swear that I have a poor pennyworth in the English.
 	He is a proper man's picture, but, alas, who can
 	converse with a dumb-show? How oddly he is suited!
 	I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round
 	hose in France, his bonnet in Germany and his
 	behavior every where.
 NERISSA	What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour?
 PORTIA	That he hath a neighbourly charity in him, for he
 	borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman and
 	swore he would pay him again when he was able: I
 	think the Frenchman became his surety and sealed
 	under for another.
 NERISSA	How like you the young German, the Duke of Saxony's nephew?
 PORTIA	Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober, and
 	most vilely in the afternoon, when he is drunk: when
 	he is best, he is a little worse than a man, and
 	when he is worst, he is little better than a beast:
 	and the worst fall that ever fell, I hope I shall
 	make shift to go without him.
 NERISSA	If he should offer to choose, and choose the right
 	casket, you should refuse to perform your father's
 	will, if you should refuse to accept him.
 PORTIA	Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, set a
 	deep glass of rhenish wine on the contrary casket,
 	for if the devil be within and that temptation
 	without, I know he will choose it. I will do any
 	thing, Nerissa, ere I'll be married to a sponge.
 NERISSA	You need not fear, lady, the having any of these
 	lords: they have acquainted me with their
 	determinations; which is, indeed, to return to their
 	home and to trouble you with no more suit, unless
 	you may be won by some other sort than your father's
 	imposition depending on the caskets.
 PORTIA	If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as
 	chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner
 	of my father's will. I am glad this parcel of wooers
 	are so reasonable, for there is not one among them
 	but I dote on his very absence, and I pray God grant
 	them a fair departure.
 NERISSA	Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a
 	Venetian, a scholar and a soldier, that came hither
 	in company of the Marquis of Montferrat?
 PORTIA	Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, he was so called.
 NERISSA	True, madam: he, of all the men that ever my foolish
 	eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady.
 PORTIA	I remember him well, and I remember him worthy of
 	thy praise.
 	[Enter a Serving-man]
 	How now! what news?
 Servant	The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take
 	their leave: and there is a forerunner come from a
 	fifth, the Prince of Morocco, who brings word the
 	prince his master will be here to-night.
 PORTIA	If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good a
 	heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I should
 	be glad of his approach: if he have the condition
 	of a saint and the complexion of a devil, I had
 	rather he should shrive me than wive me. Come,
 	Nerissa. Sirrah, go before.
 	Whiles we shut the gates
 	upon one wooer, another knocks at the door.
 SCENE III	Venice. A public place.
 SHYLOCK	Three thousand ducats; well.
 BASSANIO	Ay, sir, for three months.
 SHYLOCK	For three months; well.
 BASSANIO	For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound.
 SHYLOCK	Antonio shall become bound; well.
 BASSANIO	May you stead me? will you pleasure me? shall I
 	know your answer?
 SHYLOCK	Three thousand ducats for three months and Antonio bound.
 BASSANIO	Your answer to that.
 SHYLOCK	Antonio is a good man.
 BASSANIO	Have you heard any imputation to the contrary?
 SHYLOCK	Oh, no, no, no, no: my meaning in saying he is a
 	good man is to have you understand me that he is
 	sufficient. Yet his means are in supposition: he
 	hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the
 	Indies; I understand moreover, upon the Rialto, he
 	hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England, and
 	other ventures he hath, squandered abroad. But ships
 	are but boards, sailors but men: there be land-rats
 	and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves, I
 	mean pirates, and then there is the peril of waters,
 	winds and rocks. The man is, notwithstanding,
 	sufficient. Three thousand ducats; I think I may
 	take his bond.
 BASSANIO	Be assured you may.
 SHYLOCK	I will be assured I may; and, that I may be assured,
 	I will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio?
 BASSANIO	If it please you to dine with us.
 SHYLOCK	Yes, to smell pork; to eat of the habitation which
 	your prophet the Nazarite conjured the devil into. I
 	will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you,
 	walk with you, and so following, but I will not eat
 	with you, drink with you, nor pray with you. What
 	news on the Rialto? Who is he comes here?
 	[Enter ANTONIO]
 BASSANIO	This is Signior Antonio.
 SHYLOCK	[Aside]  How like a fawning publican he looks!
 	I hate him for he is a Christian,
 	But more for that in low simplicity
 	He lends out money gratis and brings down
 	The rate of usance here with us in Venice.
 	If I can catch him once upon the hip,
 	I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
 	He hates our sacred nation, and he rails,
 	Even there where merchants most do congregate,
 	On me, my bargains and my well-won thrift,
 	Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe,
 	If I forgive him!
 BASSANIO	                  Shylock, do you hear?
 SHYLOCK	I am debating of my present store,
 	And, by the near guess of my memory,
 	I cannot instantly raise up the gross
 	Of full three thousand ducats. What of that?
 	Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe,
 	Will furnish me. But soft! how many months
 	Do you desire?
 	Rest you fair, good signior;
 	Your worship was the last man in our mouths.
 ANTONIO	Shylock, although I neither lend nor borrow
 	By taking nor by giving of excess,
 	Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend,
 	I'll break a custom. Is he yet possess'd
 	How much ye would?
 SHYLOCK	                  Ay, ay, three thousand ducats.
 ANTONIO	And for three months.
 SHYLOCK	I had forgot; three months; you told me so.
 	Well then, your bond; and let me see; but hear you;
 	Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow
 	Upon advantage.
 ANTONIO	                  I do never use it.
 SHYLOCK	When Jacob grazed his uncle Laban's sheep--
 	This Jacob from our holy Abram was,
 	As his wise mother wrought in his behalf,
 	The third possessor; ay, he was the third--
 ANTONIO	And what of him? did he take interest?
 SHYLOCK	No, not take interest, not, as you would say,
 	Directly interest: mark what Jacob did.
 	When Laban and himself were compromised
 	That all the eanlings which were streak'd and pied
 	Should fall as Jacob's hire, the ewes, being rank,
 	In the end of autumn turned to the rams,
 	And, when the work of generation was
 	Between these woolly breeders in the act,
 	The skilful shepherd peel'd me certain wands,
 	And, in the doing of the deed of kind,
 	He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes,
 	Who then conceiving did in eaning time
 	Fall parti-colour'd lambs, and those were Jacob's.
 	This was a way to thrive, and he was blest:
 	And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not.
 ANTONIO	This was a venture, sir, that Jacob served for;
 	A thing not in his power to bring to pass,
 	But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heaven.
 	Was this inserted to make interest good?
 	Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams?
 SHYLOCK	I cannot tell; I make it breed as fast:
 	But note me, signior.
 ANTONIO	Mark you this, Bassanio,
 	The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.
 	An evil soul producing holy witness
 	Is like a villain with a smiling cheek,
 	A goodly apple rotten at the heart:
 	O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!
 SHYLOCK	Three thousand ducats; 'tis a good round sum.
 	Three months from twelve; then, let me see; the rate--
 ANTONIO	Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you?
 SHYLOCK	Signior Antonio, many a time and oft
 	In the Rialto you have rated me
 	About my moneys and my usances:
 	Still have I borne it with a patient shrug,
 	For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe.
 	You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog,
 	And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine,
 	And all for use of that which is mine own.
 	Well then, it now appears you need my help:
 	Go to, then; you come to me, and you say
 	'Shylock, we would have moneys:' you say so;
 	You, that did void your rheum upon my beard
 	And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur
 	Over your threshold: moneys is your suit
 	What should I say to you? Should I not say
 	'Hath a dog money? is it possible
 	A cur can lend three thousand ducats?' Or
 	Shall I bend low and in a bondman's key,
 	With bated breath and whispering humbleness, Say this;
 	'Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last;
 	You spurn'd me such a day; another time
 	You call'd me dog; and for these courtesies
 	I'll lend you thus much moneys'?
 ANTONIO	I am as like to call thee so again,
 	To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too.
 	If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not
 	As to thy friends; for when did friendship take
 	A breed for barren metal of his friend?
 	But lend it rather to thine enemy,
 	Who, if he break, thou mayst with better face
 	Exact the penalty.
 SHYLOCK	                  Why, look you, how you storm!
 	I would be friends with you and have your love,
 	Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with,
 	Supply your present wants and take no doit
 	Of usance for my moneys, and you'll not hear me:
 	This is kind I offer.
 BASSANIO	This were kindness.
 SHYLOCK	This kindness will I show.
 	Go with me to a notary, seal me there
 	Your single bond; and, in a merry sport,
 	If you repay me not on such a day,
 	In such a place, such sum or sums as are
 	Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit
 	Be nominated for an equal pound
 	Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken
 	In what part of your body pleaseth me.
 ANTONIO	Content, i' faith: I'll seal to such a bond
 	And say there is much kindness in the Jew.
 BASSANIO	You shall not seal to such a bond for me:
 	I'll rather dwell in my necessity.
 ANTONIO	Why, fear not, man; I will not forfeit it:
 	Within these two months, that's a month before
 	This bond expires, I do expect return
 	Of thrice three times the value of this bond.
 SHYLOCK	O father Abram, what these Christians are,
 	Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect
 	The thoughts of others! Pray you, tell me this;
 	If he should break his day, what should I gain
 	By the exaction of the forfeiture?
 	A pound of man's flesh taken from a man
 	Is not so estimable, profitable neither,
 	As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say,
 	To buy his favour, I extend this friendship:
 	If he will take it, so; if not, adieu;
 	And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not.
 ANTONIO	Yes Shylock, I will seal unto this bond.
 SHYLOCK	Then meet me forthwith at the notary's;
 	Give him direction for this merry bond,
 	And I will go and purse the ducats straight,
 	See to my house, left in the fearful guard
 	Of an unthrifty knave, and presently
 	I will be with you.
 ANTONIO	Hie thee, gentle Jew.
 	[Exit Shylock]
 	The Hebrew will turn Christian: he grows kind.
 BASSANIO	I like not fair terms and a villain's mind.
 ANTONIO	Come on: in this there can be no dismay;
 	My ships come home a month before the day.
 SCENE I	Belmont. A room in PORTIA'S house.
 	[Flourish of cornets. Enter the PRINCE OF MOROCCO
 	and his train; PORTIA, NERISSA, and others
 MOROCCO	Mislike me not for my complexion,
 	The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun,
 	To whom I am a neighbour and near bred.
 	Bring me the fairest creature northward born,
 	Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles,
 	And let us make incision for your love,
 	To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine.
 	I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine
 	Hath fear'd the valiant: by my love I swear
 	The best-regarded virgins of our clime
 	Have loved it too: I would not change this hue,
 	Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen.
 PORTIA	In terms of choice I am not solely led
 	By nice direction of a maiden's eyes;
 	Besides, the lottery of my destiny
 	Bars me the right of voluntary choosing:
 	But if my father had not scanted me
 	And hedged me by his wit, to yield myself
 	His wife who wins me by that means I told you,
 	Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair
 	As any comer I have look'd on yet
 	For my affection.
 MOROCCO	                  Even for that I thank you:
 	Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets
 	To try my fortune. By this scimitar
 	That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince
 	That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,
 	I would outstare the sternest eyes that look,
 	Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth,
 	Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear,
 	Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey,
 	To win thee, lady. But, alas the while!
 	If Hercules and Lichas play at dice
 	Which is the better man, the greater throw
 	May turn by fortune from the weaker hand:
 	So is Alcides beaten by his page;
 	And so may I, blind fortune leading me,
 	Miss that which one unworthier may attain,
 	And die with grieving.
 PORTIA	You must take your chance,
 	And either not attempt to choose at all
 	Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong
 	Never to speak to lady afterward
 	In way of marriage: therefore be advised.
 MOROCCO	Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my chance.
 PORTIA	First, forward to the temple: after dinner
 	Your hazard shall be made.
 MOROCCO	Good fortune then!
 	To make me blest or cursed'st among men.
 	[Cornets, and exeunt]
 SCENE II	Venice. A street.
 LAUNCELOT	Certainly my conscience will serve me to run from
 	this Jew my master. The fiend is at mine elbow and
 	tempts me saying to me 'Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good
 	Launcelot,' or 'good Gobbo,' or good Launcelot
 	Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away. My
 	conscience says 'No; take heed,' honest Launcelot;
 	take heed, honest Gobbo, or, as aforesaid, 'honest
 	Launcelot Gobbo; do not run; scorn running with thy
 	heels.' Well, the most courageous fiend bids me
 	pack: 'Via!' says the fiend; 'away!' says the
 	fiend; 'for the heavens, rouse up a brave mind,'
 	says the fiend, 'and run.' Well, my conscience,
 	hanging about the neck of my heart, says very wisely
 	to me 'My honest friend Launcelot, being an honest
 	man's son,' or rather an honest woman's son; for,
 	indeed, my father did something smack, something
 	grow to, he had a kind of taste; well, my conscience
 	says 'Launcelot, budge not.' 'Budge,' says the
 	fiend. 'Budge not,' says my conscience.
 	'Conscience,' say I, 'you counsel well;' ' Fiend,'
 	say I, 'you counsel well:' to be ruled by my
 	conscience, I should stay with the Jew my master,
 	who, God bless the mark, is a kind of devil; and, to
 	run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the
 	fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the devil
 	himself. Certainly the Jew is the very devil
 	incarnal; and, in my conscience, my conscience is
 	but a kind of hard conscience, to offer to counsel
 	me to stay with the Jew. The fiend gives the more
 	friendly counsel: I will run, fiend; my heels are
 	at your command; I will run.
 	[Enter Old GOBBO, with a basket]
 GOBBO	Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the way
 	to master Jew's?
 LAUNCELOT	[Aside]  O heavens, this is my true-begotten father!
 	who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel blind,
 	knows me not: I will try confusions with him.
 GOBBO	Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way
 	to master Jew's?
 LAUNCELOT	Turn up on your right hand at the next turning, but,
 	at the next turning of all, on your left; marry, at
 	the very next turning, turn of no hand, but turn
 	down indirectly to the Jew's house.
 GOBBO	By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit. Can
 	you tell me whether one Launcelot,
 	that dwells with him, dwell with him or no?
 LAUNCELOT	Talk you of young Master Launcelot?
 	Mark me now; now will I raise the waters. Talk you
 	of young Master Launcelot?
 GOBBO	No master, sir, but a poor man's son: his father,
 	though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man
 	and, God be thanked, well to live.
 LAUNCELOT	Well, let his father be what a' will, we talk of
 	young Master Launcelot.
 GOBBO	Your worship's friend and Launcelot, sir.
 LAUNCELOT	But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you,
 	talk you of young Master Launcelot?
 GOBBO	Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership.
 LAUNCELOT	Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master
 	Launcelot, father; for the young gentleman,
 	according to Fates and Destinies and such odd
 	sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of
 	learning, is indeed deceased, or, as you would say
 	in plain terms, gone to heaven.
 GOBBO	Marry, God forbid! the boy was the very staff of my
 	age, my very prop.
 LAUNCELOT	Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or
 	a prop? Do you know me, father?
 GOBBO	Alack the day, I know you not, young gentleman:
 	but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy, God rest his
 	soul, alive or dead?
 LAUNCELOT	Do you not know me, father?
 GOBBO	Alack, sir, I am sand-blind; I know you not.
 LAUNCELOT	Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might fail of
 	the knowing me: it is a wise father that knows his
 	own child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of
 	your son: give me your blessing: truth will come
 	to light; murder cannot be hid long; a man's son
 	may, but at the length truth will out.
 GOBBO	Pray you, sir, stand up: I am sure you are not
 	Launcelot, my boy.
 LAUNCELOT	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
 GOBBO	I cannot think you are my son.
 LAUNCELOT	I know not what I shall think of that: but I am
 	Launcelot, the Jew's man, and I am sure Margery your
 	wife is my mother.
 GOBBO	Her name is Margery, indeed: I'll be sworn, if thou
 	be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood.
 	Lord worshipped might he be! what a beard hast thou
 	got! thou hast got more hair on thy chin than
 	Dobbin my fill-horse has on his tail.
 LAUNCELOT	It should seem, then, that Dobbin's tail grows
 	backward: I am sure he had more hair of his tail
 	than I have of my face when I last saw him.
 GOBBO	Lord, how art thou changed! How dost thou and thy
 	master agree? I have brought him a present. How
 	'gree you now?
 LAUNCELOT	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 famished 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 followers]
 BASSANIO	You may do so; but let it be so hasted that supper
 	be ready at the farthest by five of the clock. See
 	these letters delivered; put the liveries to making,
 	and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging.
 	[Exit a Servant]
 LAUNCELOT	To him, father.
 GOBBO	God bless your worship!
 BASSANIO	Gramercy! wouldst thou aught with me?
 GOBBO	Here's my son, sir, a poor boy,--
 LAUNCELOT	Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man; that
 	would, sir, as my father shall specify--
 GOBBO	He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to serve--
 LAUNCELOT	Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew,
 	and have a desire, as my father shall specify--
 GOBBO	His master and he, saving your worship's reverence,
 	are scarce cater-cousins--
 LAUNCELOT	To be brief, the very truth is that the Jew, having
 	done me wrong, doth cause me, as my father, being, I
 	hope, an old man, shall frutify unto you--
 GOBBO	I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow upon
 	your worship, and my suit is--
 LAUNCELOT	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.
 BASSANIO	One speak for both. What would you?
 LAUNCELOT	Serve you, sir.
 GOBBO	That is the very defect of the matter, sir.
 BASSANIO	I know thee well; thou hast obtain'd thy suit:
 	Shylock thy master spoke with me this day,
 	And hath preferr'd thee, if it be preferment
 	To leave a rich Jew's service, to become
 	The follower of so poor a gentleman.
 LAUNCELOT	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.
 BASSANIO	Thou speak'st it well. Go, father, with thy son.
 	Take leave of thy old master and inquire
 	My lodging out. Give him a livery
 	More guarded than his fellows': see it done.
 LAUNCELOT	Father, in. I cannot get a service, no; I have
 	ne'er a tongue in my head. Well, 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. Well, if Fortune be a
 	woman, she's a good wench for this gear. Father,
 	come; I'll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye.
 	[Exeunt Launcelot and Old Gobbo]
 BASSANIO	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.
 LEONARDO	My best endeavours shall be done herein.
 	[Enter GRATIANO]
 GRATIANO	Where is your master?
 LEONARDO	Yonder, sir, he walks.
 GRATIANO	Signior Bassanio!
 BASSANIO	Gratiano!
 GRATIANO	I have a suit to you.
 BASSANIO	You have obtain'd it.
 GRATIANO	You must not deny me: I must go with you to Belmont.
 BASSANIO	Why then you must. But hear thee, Gratiano;
 	Thou art too wild, too rude and bold of voice;
 	Parts that become thee happily enough
 	And in such eyes as ours appear not faults;
 	But where thou art not known, why, there they show
 	Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain
 	To allay with some cold drops of modesty
 	Thy skipping spirit, lest through thy wild behavior
 	I be misconstrued in the place I go to,
 	And lose my hopes.
 GRATIANO	                  Signior Bassanio, hear me:
 	If I do not put on a sober habit,
 	Talk with respect and swear but now and then,
 	Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely,
 	Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes
 	Thus with my hat, and sigh and say 'amen,'
 	Use all the observance of civility,
 	Like one well studied in a sad ostent
 	To please his grandam, never trust me more.
 BASSANIO	Well, we shall see your bearing.
 GRATIANO	Nay, but I bar to-night: you shall not gauge me
 	By what we do to-night.
 BASSANIO	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.
 GRATIANO	And I must to Lorenzo and the rest:
 	But we will visit you at supper-time.
 SCENE III	The same. A room in SHYLOCK'S house.
 JESSICA	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 tediousness.
 	But 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 my father
 	See me in talk with thee.
 LAUNCELOT	Adieu! tears exhibit my tongue. Most beautiful
 	pagan, most sweet Jew! if a Christian did not play
 	the knave and get thee, I am much deceived. But,
 	adieu: these foolish drops do something drown my
 	manly spirit: adieu.
 JESSICA	Farewell, good Launcelot.
 	[Exit Launcelot]
 	Alack, what heinous sin is it in me
 	To be ashamed 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.
 SCENE IV	The same. A street.
 LORENZO	Nay, we will slink away in supper-time,
 	Disguise us at my lodging and return,
 	All in an hour.
 GRATIANO	We have not made good preparation.
 SALARINO	We have not spoke us yet of torchbearers.
 SALANIO	'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order'd,
 	And better in my mind not undertook.
 LORENZO	'Tis now but four o'clock: we have two hours
 	To furnish us.
 	[Enter LAUNCELOT, with a letter]
 	Friend Launcelot, what's the news?
 LAUNCELOT	An it shall please you to break up
 	this, it shall seem to signify.
 LORENZO	I know the hand: in faith, 'tis a fair hand;
 	And whiter than the paper it writ on
 	Is the fair hand that writ.
 GRATIANO	Love-news, in faith.
 LAUNCELOT	By your leave, sir.
 LORENZO	Whither goest thou?
 LAUNCELOT	Marry, sir, to bid my old master the
 	Jew to sup to-night with my new master the Christian.
 LORENZO	Hold here, take this: tell gentle Jessica
 	I will not fail her; speak it privately.
 	Go, gentlemen,
 	[Exit Launcelot]
 	Will you prepare you for this masque tonight?
 	I am provided of a torch-bearer.
 SALANIO	Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it straight.
 SALANIO	And so will I.
 LORENZO	                  Meet me and Gratiano
 	At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence.
 SALARINO	'Tis good we do so.
 GRATIANO	Was not that letter from fair Jessica?
 LORENZO	I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed
 	How I shall take her from her father's house,
 	What gold and jewels she is furnish'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:
 	Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer.
 SCENE V	The same. Before SHYLOCK'S house.
 SHYLOCK	Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge,
 	The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio:--
 	What, Jessica!--thou shalt not gormandise,
 	As thou hast done with me:--What, Jessica!--
 	And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out;--
 	Why, Jessica, I say!
 LAUNCELOT	Why, Jessica!
 SHYLOCK	Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call.
 LAUNCELOT	Your worship was wont to tell me that
 	I could do nothing without bidding.
 	[Enter Jessica]
 JESSICA	Call you? what is your will?
 SHYLOCK	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. I am right loath to go:
 	There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest,
 	For I did dream of money-bags to-night.
 LAUNCELOT	I beseech you, sir, go: my young master doth expect
 	your reproach.
 SHYLOCK	So do I his.
 LAUNCELOT	An they have conspired together, I will not say you
 	shall see a masque; but if you do, then it was not
 	for nothing that my nose fell a-bleeding on
 	Black-Monday last at six o'clock i' the morning,
 	falling out that year on Ash-Wednesday was four
 	year, in the afternoon.
 SHYLOCK	What, are there masques? Hear you me, Jessica:
 	Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum
 	And the vile squealing 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.
 LAUNCELOT	I will go before, sir. Mistress, look out at
 	window, for all this, There will come a Christian
 	boy, will be worth a Jewess' eye.
 SHYLOCK	What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha?
 JESSICA	His words were 'Farewell mistress;' nothing else.
 SHYLOCK	The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder;
 	Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day
 	More than the wild-cat: drones hive not with me;
 	Therefore I part with him, and part with him
 	To one that would have him help to waste
 	His borrow'd purse. Well, Jessica, go in;
 	Perhaps I will return immediately:
 	Do as I bid you; shut doors after you:
 	Fast bind, fast find;
 	A proverb never stale in thrifty mind.
 JESSICA	Farewell; and if my fortune be not crost,
 	I have a father, you a daughter, lost.
 SCENE VI	The same.
 	[Enter GRATIANO and SALARINO, masqued]
 GRATIANO	This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo
 	Desired us to make stand.
 SALARINO	His hour is almost past.
 GRATIANO	And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour,
 	For lovers ever run before the clock.
 SALARINO	O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly
 	To seal love's bonds new-made, than they are wont
 	To keep obliged faith unforfeited!
 GRATIANO	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
 	That he did pace them first? All things that are,
 	Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd.
 	How like a younker or a prodigal
 	The scarfed bark puts from her native bay,
 	Hugg'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!
 SALARINO	Here comes Lorenzo: more of this hereafter.
 	[Enter LORENZO]
 LORENZO	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 long for you then. Approach;
 	Here dwells my father Jew. Ho! who's within?
 	[Enter JESSICA, above, in boy's clothes]
 JESSICA	Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty,
 	Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue.
 LORENZO	Lorenzo, and thy love.
 JESSICA	Lorenzo, certain, and my love indeed,
 	For who love I so much? And now who knows
 	But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours?
 LORENZO	Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art.
 JESSICA	Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains.
 	I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me,
 	For I am much ashamed 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.
 LORENZO	Descend, for you must be my torchbearer.
 JESSICA	What, must I hold a candle to my shames?
 	They in themselves, good-sooth, are too too light.
 	Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love;
 	And I should be obscured.
 LORENZO	So are you, sweet,
 	Even in the lovely garnish of a boy.
 	But come at once;
 	For the close night doth play the runaway,
 	And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast.
 JESSICA	I will make fast the doors, and gild myself
 	With some more ducats, and be with you straight.
 	[Exit above]
 GRATIANO	Now, by my hood, a Gentile and no Jew.
 LORENZO	Beshrew 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 proved 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 masquing mates by this time for us stay.
 	[Exit with Jessica and Salarino]
 	[Enter ANTONIO]
 ANTONIO	Who's there?
 GRATIANO	Signior Antonio!
 ANTONIO	Fie, fie, 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.
 GRATIANO	I am glad on't: I desire no more delight
 	Than to be under sail and gone to-night.
 SCENE VII	Belmont. A room in PORTIA'S house.
 	[Flourish of cornets. Enter PORTIA, with the
 	PRINCE OF MOROCCO, and their trains]
 PORTIA	Go draw aside the curtains and discover
 	The several caskets to this noble prince.
 	Now make your choice.
 MOROCCO	The first, of gold, who this inscription bears,
 	'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?
 PORTIA	The one of them contains my picture, prince:
 	If you choose that, then I am yours withal.
 MOROCCO	Some god direct my judgment! Let me see;
 	I will survey the inscriptions back again.
 	What says this leaden casket?
 	'Who chooseth me must 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 shows 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! 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 stray'd no further, but chose here?
 	Let's see once more this saying graved in gold
 	'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.'
 	Why, that's the lady; all the world desires her;
 	From the four corners of the earth they come,
 	To kiss this shrine, this mortal-breathing saint:
 	The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds
 	Of wide Arabia are as thoroughfares now
 	For princes to come view fair Portia:
 	The watery 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 Portia.
 	One of these three contains her heavenly picture.
 	Is't like that lead contains her? 'Twere damnation
 	To think so base a thought: it were too gross
 	To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave.
 	Or shall I think in silver she's immured,
 	Being ten times undervalued to tried gold?
 	O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem
 	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 I as I may!
 PORTIA	There, take it, prince; and if my form lie there,
 	Then I am yours.
 	[He unlocks the golden casket]
 MOROCCO	                  O 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 sold
 	But my outside to behold:
 	Gilded tombs do worms enfold.
 	Had you been as wise as bold,
 	Young in limbs, in judgment old,
 	Your answer had not been inscroll'd:
 	Fare you well; your suit is cold.
 	Cold, indeed; and labour lost:
 	Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost!
 	Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart
 	To take a tedious leave: thus losers part.
 	[Exit with his train. Flourish of cornets]
 PORTIA	A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go.
 	Let all of his complexion choose me so.
 SCENE VIII	Venice. A street.
 SALARINO	Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail:
 	With him is Gratiano gone along;
 	And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not.
 SALANIO	The villain Jew with outcries raised the duke,
 	Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship.
 SALARINO	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 certified the duke
 	They were not with Bassanio in his ship.
 SALANIO	I never heard a passion so confused,
 	So strange, outrageous, and so variable,
 	As the dog Jew did utter in the streets:
 	'My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter!
 	Fled with a Christian! O my Christian ducats!
 	Justice! the law! my ducats, and my daughter!
 	A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats,
 	Of double ducats, stolen from me by my daughter!
 	And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones,
 	Stolen by my daughter! Justice! find the girl;
 	She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats.'
 SALARINO	Why, all the boys in Venice follow him,
 	Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats.
 SALANIO	Let good Antonio look he keep his day,
 	Or he shall pay for this.
 SALARINO	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.
 SALANIO	You were best to tell Antonio what you hear;
 	Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him.
 SALARINO	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 business for my sake, Bassanio
 	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 chiefest thoughts
 	To courtship and such fair ostents of love
 	As shall conveniently become you there:'
 	And even there, his eye being big with tears,
 	Turning his face, he put his hand behind him,
 	And with affection wondrous sensible
 	He wrung Bassanio's hand; and so they parted.
 SALANIO	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.
 SALARINO	Do we so.
 SCENE IX	Belmont. A room in PORTIA'S house.
 	[Enter NERISSA with a Servitor]
 NERISSA	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 cornets. Enter the PRINCE OF ARRAGON,
 	PORTIA, and their trains]
 PORTIA	Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince:
 	If you choose that wherein I am contain'd,
 	Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemnized:
 	But if you fail, without more speech, my lord,
 	You must be gone from hence immediately.
 ARRAGON	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 fail
 	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.
 PORTIA	To these injunctions every one doth swear
 	That comes to hazard for my worthless self.
 ARRAGON	And so have I address'd me. Fortune now
 	To my heart's hope! Gold; silver; and base lead.
 	'Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.'
 	You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard.
 	What says the golden chest? ha! let me see:
 	'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.'
 	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 outward wall,
 	Even in the force and road of casualty.
 	I will not choose what many men desire,
 	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 chooseth 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 derived corruptly, and that clear honour
 	Were purchased 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 honour
 	Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times
 	To be new-varnish'd! Well, but to my choice:
 	'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.'
 	I will assume desert. Give me a key for this,
 	And instantly unlock my fortunes here.
 	[He opens the silver casket]
 PORTIA	Too long a pause for that which you find there.
 ARRAGON	What's here? the portrait of a blinking idiot,
 	Presenting me a schedule! I will read it.
 	How much unlike art thou to Portia!
 	How much unlike my hopes and my deservings!
 	'Who chooseth me shall have as much as he deserves.'
 	Did I deserve no more than a fool's head?
 	Is that my prize? are my deserts no better?
 PORTIA	To offend, and judge, are distinct offices
 	And of opposed natures.
 ARRAGON	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 kiss;
 	Such have but a shadow's bliss:
 	There be fools alive, I wis,
 	Silver'd o'er; and so was this.
 	Take what wife you will to bed,
 	I will ever be your head:
 	So be gone: you are sped.
 	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]
 PORTIA	Thus hath the candle singed the moth.
 	O, these deliberate fools! when they do choose,
 	They have the wisdom by their wit to lose.
 NERISSA	The ancient saying is no heresy,
 	Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
 PORTIA	Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa.
 	[Enter a Servant]
 Servant	Where is my lady?
 PORTIA	                  Here: what would my lord?
 Servant	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.
 PORTIA	No more, I pray thee: I am half afeard
 	Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee,
 	Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him.
 	Come, come, Nerissa; for I long to see
 	Quick Cupid's post that comes so mannerly.
 NERISSA	Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be!
 SCENE I	Venice. A street.
 SALANIO	Now, what news on the Rialto?
 SALARINO	Why, yet it lives there uncheck'd that Antonio hath
 	a ship of rich lading wrecked on the narrow seas;
 	the Goodwins, I think they call the place; a very
 	dangerous flat and fatal, where the carcasses of many
 	a tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossip
 	Report be an honest woman of her word.
 SALANIO	I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever
 	knapped 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 highway of talk, that the good Antonio, the
 	honest Antonio,--O that I had a title good enough
 	to keep his name company!--
 SALARINO	Come, the full stop.
 SALANIO	Ha! what sayest thou? Why, the end is, he hath
 	lost a ship.
 SALARINO	I would it might prove the end of his losses.
 SALANIO	Let me say 'amen' betimes, lest the devil cross my
 	prayer, for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew.
 	[Enter SHYLOCK]
 	How now, Shylock! what news among the merchants?
 SHYLOCK	You know, none so well, none so well as you, of my
 	daughter's flight.
 SALARINO	That's certain: I, for my part, knew the tailor
 	that made the wings she flew withal.
 SALANIO	And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was
 	fledged; and then it is the complexion of them all
 	to leave the dam.
 SHYLOCK	She is damned for it.
 SALANIO	That's certain, if the devil may be her judge.
 SHYLOCK	My own flesh and blood to rebel!
 SALANIO	Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it at these years?
 SHYLOCK	I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood.
 SALARINO	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?
 SHYLOCK	There I have another bad match: a bankrupt, a
 	prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the
 	Rialto; a beggar, that was 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: he was
 	wont to lend money for a Christian courtesy; let him
 	look to his bond.
 SALARINO	Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take
 	his flesh: what's that good for?
 SHYLOCK	To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else,
 	it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and
 	hindered me 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? I 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 sufferance be by
 	Christian example? Why, revenge. The villany you
 	teach me, I will execute, and it shall go hard but I
 	will better the instruction.
 	[Enter a Servant]
 Servant	Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house and
 	desires to speak with you both.
 SALARINO	We have been up and down to seek him.
 	[Enter TUBAL]
 SALANIO	Here comes another of the tribe: a third cannot be
 	matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew.
 	[Exeunt SALANIO, SALARINO, and Servant]
 SHYLOCK	How now, Tubal! what news from Genoa? hast thou
 	found my daughter?
 TUBAL	I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot find her.
 SHYLOCK	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 hearsed 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 in luck stirring but what lights on my
 	shoulders; no sighs but of my breathing; no tears
 	but of my shedding.
 TUBAL	Yes, other men have ill luck too: Antonio, as I
 	heard in Genoa,--
 SHYLOCK	What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck?
 TUBAL	Hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis.
 SHYLOCK	I thank God, I thank God. Is't true, is't true?
 TUBAL	I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wreck.
 SHYLOCK	I thank thee, good Tubal: good news, good news!
 	ha, ha! where? in Genoa?
 TUBAL	Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, in one
 	night fourscore ducats.
 SHYLOCK	Thou stickest a dagger in me: I shall never see my
 	gold again: fourscore ducats at a sitting!
 	fourscore ducats!
 TUBAL	There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my
 	company to Venice, that swear he cannot choose but break.
 SHYLOCK	I am very glad of it: I'll plague him; I'll torture
 	him: I am glad of it.
 TUBAL	One of them showed me a ring that he had of your
 	daughter for a monkey.
 SHYLOCK	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.
 TUBAL	But Antonio is certainly undone.
 SHYLOCK	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 him, if he forfeit; for, were
 	he out of Venice, I can make what merchandise I
 	will. Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue;
 	go, good Tubal; at our synagogue, Tubal.
 SCENE II	Belmont. A room in PORTIA'S house.
 PORTIA	I pray you, tarry: pause a day or two
 	Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong,
 	I lose your company: therefore forbear awhile.
 	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 I am then forsworn;
 	So will I never be: so may you miss me;
 	But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin,
 	That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes,
 	They have o'erlook'd me and divided me;
 	One half of me is yours, the other half yours,
 	Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,
 	And so all yours. O, these naughty times
 	Put bars between the owners and their rights!
 	And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so,
 	Let fortune go to hell for it, not I.
 	I speak too long; but 'tis to peize the time,
 	To eke it and to draw it out in length,
 	To stay you from election.
 BASSANIO	Let me choose
 	For as I am, I live upon the rack.
 PORTIA	Upon the rack, Bassanio! then confess
 	What treason there is mingled with your love.
 BASSANIO	None but that ugly treason of mistrust,
 	Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love:
 	There may as well be amity and life
 	'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love.
 PORTIA	Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack,
 	Where men enforced do speak anything.
 BASSANIO	Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth.
 PORTIA	Well then, confess and live.
 BASSANIO	'Confess' and 'love'
 	Had been the very sum of my confession:
 	O happy torment, when my torturer
 	Doth teach me answers for deliverance!
 	But let me to my fortune and the caskets.
 PORTIA	Away, then! I am lock'd in one of them:
 	If you do love me, you will find me out.
 	Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof.
 	Let music sound while he doth make his choice;
 	Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end,
 	Fading in music: that the comparison
 	May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream
 	And watery death-bed for him. He may win;
 	And what is music then? Then music is
 	Even as the flourish when true subjects bow
 	To a new-crowned monarch: such it is
 	As are those dulcet sounds in break of day
 	That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear,
 	And summon him to marriage. Now he goes,
 	With no less presence, but with much more love,
 	Than young Alcides, when he did redeem
 	The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy
 	To the sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice
 	The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives,
 	With bleared visages, come forth to view
 	The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules!
 	Live thou, I live: with much, much more dismay
 	I view the fight than thou that makest the fray.
 	[Music, whilst BASSANIO comments on the caskets to himself]
 	Tell me where is fancy bred,
 	Or in the heart, or in the head?
 	How begot, how nourished?
 	Reply, reply.
 	It is engender'd in the eyes,
 	With gazing fed; and fancy dies
 	In the cradle where it lies.
 	Let us all ring fancy's knell
 	I'll begin it,--Ding, dong, bell.
 ALL	Ding, dong, bell.
 BASSANIO	So may the outward shows be least themselves:
 	The world is still deceived with ornament.
 	In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,
 	But, being seasoned with a gracious voice,
 	Obscures the show of evil? In religion,
 	What damned error, but some sober brow
 	Will bless it and approve it with a text,
 	Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?
 	There is no vice so simple but assumes
 	Some mark of virtue on his outward parts:
 	How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false
 	As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins
 	The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars;
 	Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk;
 	And these assume but valour's excrement
 	To render them redoubted! Look on beauty,
 	And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight;
 	Which therein works a miracle in nature,
 	Making them lightest that wear most of it:
 	So are those crisped snaky golden locks
 	Which make such wanton gambols with the wind,
 	Upon supposed fairness, often known
 	To be the dowry of a second head,
 	The skull that bred them in the sepulchre.
 	Thus ornament is but the guiled shore
 	To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf
 	Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word,
 	The seeming truth which cunning times put on
 	To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold,
 	Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee;
 	Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge
 	'Tween man and man: but thou, thou meagre lead,
 	Which rather threatenest than dost promise aught,
 	Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence;
 	And here choose I; joy be the consequence!
 PORTIA	[Aside]  How all the other passions fleet to air,
 	As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced despair,
 	And shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy! O love,
 	Be moderate; allay thy ecstasy,
 	In measure rein thy joy; scant this excess.
 	I feel too much thy blessing: make it less,
 	For fear I surfeit.
 BASSANIO	What find I here?
 	[Opening the leaden casket]
 	Fair Portia's counterfeit! What demi-god
 	Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes?
 	Or whether, riding on the balls of mine,
 	Seem they in motion? Here are sever'd lips,
 	Parted with sugar breath: so sweet a bar
 	Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs
 	The painter plays the spider and hath woven
 	A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men,
 	Faster than gnats in cobwebs; but her eyes,--
 	How could he see to do them? having made one,
 	Methinks it should have power to steal both his
 	And leave itself unfurnish'd. Yet look, how far
 	The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow
 	In underprizing it, so far this shadow
 	Doth limp behind the substance. Here's the scroll,
 	The continent and summary of my fortune.
 	You that choose not by the view,
 	Chance as fair and choose as true!
 	Since this fortune falls to you,
 	Be content and seek no new,
 	If you be well pleased with this
 	And hold your fortune for your bliss,
 	Turn you where your lady is
 	And claim her with a loving kiss.
 	A gentle scroll. Fair lady, by your leave;
 	I come by note, to give and to receive.
 	Like one of two contending in a prize,
 	That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes,
 	Hearing applause and universal shout,
 	Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt
 	Whether these pearls of praise be his or no;
 	So, thrice fair lady, stand I, even so;
 	As doubtful whether what I see be true,
 	Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you.
 PORTIA	You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand,
 	Such as I am: though for myself alone
 	I would not be ambitious in my wish,
 	To wish myself much better; yet, for you
 	I would be trebled twenty times myself;
 	A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich;
 	That only to stand high in your account,
 	I might in virtue, beauties, livings, friends,
 	Exceed account; but the full sum of me
 	Is sum of something, which, to term in gross,
 	Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractised;
 	Happy in this, she is not yet so old
 	But she may learn; happier than this,
 	She is not bred so dull but she can learn;
 	Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit
 	Commits itself to yours to be directed,
 	As from her lord, her governor, her king.
 	Myself and what is mine to you and yours
 	Is now converted: but now I was the lord
 	Of this fair mansion, master of my servants,
 	Queen o'er myself: and even now, but now,
 	This house, these servants and this same myself
 	Are yours, my lord: I give them with this ring;
 	Which when you part from, lose, or give away,
 	Let it presage the ruin of your love
 	And be my vantage to exclaim on you.
 BASSANIO	Madam, you have bereft me of all words,
 	Only my blood speaks to you in my veins;
 	And there is such confusion in my powers,
 	As after some oration fairly spoke
 	By a beloved prince, there doth appear
 	Among the buzzing pleased multitude;
 	Where every something, being blent together,
 	Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy,
 	Express'd and not express'd. But when this ring
 	Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence:
 	O, then be bold to say Bassanio's dead!
 NERISSA	My lord and lady, it is now our time,
 	That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper,
 	To cry, good joy: good joy, my lord and lady!
 GRATIANO	My lord Bassanio and my gentle lady,
 	I wish you all the joy that you can wish;
 	For I am sure you can wish none from me:
 	And when your honours mean to solemnize
 	The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you,
 	Even at that time I may be married too.
 BASSANIO	With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.
 GRATIANO	I thank your lordship, you have got me one.
 	My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours:
 	You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid;
 	You loved, I loved for intermission.
 	No more pertains to me, my lord, than you.
 	Your fortune stood upon the casket there,
 	And so did mine too, as the matter falls;
 	For wooing here until I sweat again,
 	And sweating until my very roof was dry
 	With oaths of love, at last, if promise last,
 	I got a promise of this fair one here
 	To have her love, provided that your fortune
 	Achieved her mistress.
 PORTIA	Is this true, Nerissa?
 NERISSA	Madam, it is, so you stand pleased withal.
 BASSANIO	And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith?
 GRATIANO	Yes, faith, my lord.
 BASSANIO	Our feast shall be much honour'd in your marriage.
 GRATIANO	We'll play with them the first boy for a thousand ducats.
 NERISSA	What, and stake down?
 GRATIANO	No; we shall ne'er win at that sport, and stake down.
 	But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel? What,
 	and my old Venetian friend Salerio?
 	[Enter LORENZO, JESSICA, and SALERIO, a Messenger
 	from Venice]
 BASSANIO	Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither;
 	If that the youth of my new interest here
 	Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave,
 	I bid my very friends and countrymen,
 	Sweet Portia, welcome.
 PORTIA	So do I, my lord:
 	They are entirely welcome.
 LORENZO	I thank your honour. For my part, my lord,
 	My purpose was not to have seen you here;
 	But meeting with Salerio by the way,
 	He did entreat me, past all saying nay,
 	To come with him along.
 SALERIO	I did, my lord;
 	And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio
 	Commends him to you.
 	[Gives Bassanio a letter]
 BASSANIO	Ere I ope his letter,
 	I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth.
 SALERIO	Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind;
 	Nor well, unless in mind: his letter there
 	Will show you his estate.
 GRATIANO	Nerissa, cheer yon stranger; bid her welcome.
 	Your hand, Salerio: what's the news from Venice?
 	How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio?
 	I know he will be glad of our success;
 	We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece.
 SALERIO	I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost.
 PORTIA	There are some shrewd contents in yon same paper,
 	That steals the colour from Bassanio's cheek:
 	Some dear friend dead; else nothing in the world
 	Could turn so much the constitution
 	Of any constant man. What, worse and worse!
 	With leave, Bassanio: I am half yourself,
 	And I must freely have the half of anything
 	That this same paper brings you.
 BASSANIO	O sweet Portia,
 	Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words
 	That ever blotted paper! Gentle lady,
 	When I did first impart my love to you,
 	I freely told you, all the wealth I had
 	Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman;
 	And then I told you true: and yet, dear lady,
 	Rating myself at nothing, you shall see
 	How much I was a braggart. When I told you
 	My state was nothing, I should then have told you
 	That I was worse than nothing; for, indeed,
 	I have engaged myself to a dear friend,
 	Engaged my friend to his mere enemy,
 	To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady;
 	The paper as the body of my friend,
 	And every word in it a gaping wound,
 	Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio?
 	Have all his ventures fail'd? What, not one hit?
 	From Tripolis, from Mexico and England,
 	From Lisbon, Barbary and India?
 	And not one vessel 'scape the dreadful touch
 	Of merchant-marring rocks?
 SALERIO	Not one, my lord.
 	Besides, it should appear, that if he had
 	The present money to discharge the Jew,
 	He would not take it. Never did I know
 	A creature, that did bear the shape of man,
 	So keen and greedy to confound a man:
 	He plies the duke at morning and at night,
 	And doth impeach the freedom of the state,
 	If they deny him justice: twenty merchants,
 	The duke himself, and the magnificoes
 	Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him;
 	But none can drive him from the envious plea
 	Of forfeiture, of justice and his bond.
 JESSICA	When I was with him I have heard him swear
 	To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen,
 	That he would rather have Antonio's flesh
 	Than twenty times the value of the sum
 	That he did owe him: and I know, my lord,
 	If law, authority and power deny not,
 	It will go hard with poor Antonio.
 PORTIA	Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble?
 BASSANIO	The dearest friend to me, the kindest man,
 	The best-condition'd and unwearied spirit
 	In doing courtesies, and one in whom
 	The ancient Roman honour more appears
 	Than any that draws breath in Italy.
 PORTIA	What sum owes he the Jew?
 BASSANIO	For me three thousand ducats.
 PORTIA	What, no more?
 	Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond;
 	Double six thousand, and then treble that,
 	Before a friend of this description
 	Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault.
 	First go with me to church and call me wife,
 	And then away to Venice to your friend;
 	For never shall you lie by Portia's side
 	With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold
 	To pay the petty debt twenty times over:
 	When it is paid, bring your true friend along.
 	My maid Nerissa and myself meantime
 	Will live as maids and widows. Come, away!
 	For you shall hence upon your wedding-day:
 	Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer:
 	Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear.
 	But let me hear the letter of your friend.
 BASSANIO	[Reads]  Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all
 	miscarried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is
 	very low, my bond to the Jew is forfeit; and since
 	in paying it, it is impossible I should live, all
 	debts are cleared between you and I, if I might but
 	see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your
 	pleasure: if your love do not persuade you to come,
 	let not my letter.
 PORTIA	O love, dispatch all business, and be gone!
 BASSANIO	Since I have your good leave to go away,
 	I will make haste: but, till I come again,
 	No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay,
 	No rest be interposer 'twixt us twain.
 SCENE III	Venice. A street.
 	[Enter SHYLOCK, SALARINO, ANTONIO, and Gaoler]
 SHYLOCK	Gaoler, look to him: tell not me of mercy;
 	This is the fool that lent out money gratis:
 	Gaoler, look to him.
 ANTONIO	Hear me yet, good Shylock.
 SHYLOCK	I'll have my bond; speak not against my bond:
 	I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond.
 	Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause;
 	But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs:
 	The duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder,
 	Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond
 	To come abroad with him at his request.
 ANTONIO	I pray thee, hear me speak.
 SHYLOCK	I'll have my bond; I will not hear thee speak:
 	I'll have my bond; and therefore speak no more.
 	I'll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool,
 	To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield
 	To Christian intercessors. Follow not;
 	I'll have no speaking: I will have my bond.
 SALARINO	It is the most impenetrable cur
 	That ever kept with men.
 ANTONIO	Let him alone:
 	I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers.
 	He seeks my life; his reason well I know:
 	I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures
 	Many that have at times made moan to me;
 	Therefore he hates me.
 SALARINO	I am sure the duke
 	Will never grant this forfeiture to hold.
 ANTONIO	The duke cannot deny the course of law:
 	For the commodity that strangers have
 	With us in Venice, if it be denied,
 	Will much impeach the justice of his state;
 	Since that the trade and profit of the city
 	Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go:
 	These griefs and losses have so bated me,
 	That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh
 	To-morrow to my bloody creditor.
 	Well, gaoler, on. Pray God, Bassanio come
 	To see me pay his debt, and then I care not!
 SCENE IV	Belmont. A room in PORTIA'S house.
 LORENZO	Madam, although I speak it in your presence,
 	You have a noble and a true conceit
 	Of godlike amity; which appears 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 relief,
 	How dear a lover of my lord your husband,
 	I know you would be prouder of the work
 	Than customary bounty can enforce you.
 PORTIA	I never did repent for doing good,
 	Nor shall not now: for in companions
 	That do converse and waste the time together,
 	Whose souls do bear an equal yoke Of love,
 	There must be needs a like proportion
 	Of lineaments, of manners and of spirit;
 	Which makes me think that this Antonio,
 	Being the bosom lover of my lord,
 	Must needs be like my lord. If it be so,
 	How little is the cost I have bestow'd
 	In purchasing the semblance of my soul
 	From out the state of hellish misery!
 	This comes too near the praising of myself;
 	Therefore no more of it: hear other things.
 	Lorenzo, I commit into your hands
 	The husbandry and manage of my house
 	Until my lord's return: for mine own part,
 	I have toward heaven breathed a secret vow
 	To live in prayer and contemplation,
 	Only attended by Nerissa here,
 	Until her husband and my lord's return:
 	There is a monastery two miles off;
 	And there will we abide. I do desire you
 	Not to deny this imposition;
 	The which my love and some necessity
 	Now lays upon you.
 LORENZO	                  Madam, with all my heart;
 	I shall obey you in all fair commands.
 PORTIA	My people do already know my mind,
 	And will acknowledge you and Jessica
 	In place of Lord Bassanio and myself.
 	And so farewell, till we shall meet again.
 LORENZO	Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you!
 JESSICA	I wish your ladyship all heart's content.
 PORTIA	I thank you for your wish, and am well pleased
 	To wish it back on you: fare you well Jessica.
 	[Exeunt JESSICA and LORENZO]
 	Now, Balthasar,
 	As I have ever found thee honest-true,
 	So let me find thee still. Take this same letter,
 	And use thou all the endeavour of a man
 	In speed to Padua: see thou render this
 	Into my cousin's hand, Doctor Bellario;
 	And, look, what notes and garments he doth give thee,
 	Bring them, I pray thee, with imagined speed
 	Unto the tranect, to the common ferry
 	Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words,
 	But get thee gone: I shall be there before thee.
 BALTHASAR	Madam, I go with all convenient speed.
 PORTIA	Come on, Nerissa; I have work in hand
 	That you yet know not of: we'll see our husbands
 	Before they think of us.
 NERISSA	Shall they see us?
 PORTIA	They shall, Nerissa; but in such a habit,
 	That they shall think we are accomplished
 	With that we lack. I'll hold thee any wager,
 	When we are both accoutred like young men,
 	I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two,
 	And wear my dagger with the braver grace,
 	And speak between the change of man and boy
 	With a reed voice, and turn two mincing steps
 	Into a manly stride, and speak of frays
 	Like a fine bragging youth, and tell quaint lies,
 	How honourable ladies sought my love,
 	Which I denying, they fell sick and died;
 	I could not do withal; then I'll repent,
 	And wish for all that, that I had not killed them;
 	And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell,
 	That men shall swear I have discontinued school
 	Above a twelvemonth. I have within my mind
 	A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks,
 	Which I will practise.
 NERISSA	Why, shall we turn to men?
 PORTIA	Fie, what a question's that,
 	If thou wert near a lewd interpreter!
 	But come, I'll tell thee all my whole device
 	When I am in my coach, which stays for us
 	At the park gate; and therefore haste away,
 	For we must measure twenty miles to-day.
 SCENE V	The same. A garden.
 LAUNCELOT	Yes, truly; for, look you, the sins of the father
 	are to be laid upon the children: therefore, I
 	promise ye, I fear you. I was always plain with
 	you, and so now I speak my agitation of the matter:
 	therefore be of good cheer, for truly I think you
 	are damned. There is but one hope in it that can do
 	you any good; and that is but a kind of bastard
 	hope neither.
 JESSICA	And what hope is that, I pray thee?
 LAUNCELOT	Marry, you may partly hope that your father got you
 	not, that you are not the Jew's daughter.
 JESSICA	That were a kind of bastard hope, indeed: so the
 	sins of my mother should be visited upon me.
 LAUNCELOT	Truly then I fear you are damned both by father and
 	mother: thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I
 	fall into Charybdis, your mother: well, you are
 	gone both ways.
 JESSICA	I shall be saved by my husband; he hath made me a
 LAUNCELOT	Truly, the more to blame he: we were Christians
 	enow before; e'en as many as could well live, one by
 	another. This making Christians will raise the
 	price of hogs: if we grow all to be pork-eaters, we
 	shall not shortly have a rasher on the coals for money.
 	[Enter LORENZO]
 JESSICA	I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say: here he comes.
 LORENZO	I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot, if
 	you thus get my wife into corners.
 JESSICA	Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo: Launcelot and I
 	are out. He tells me flatly, there is no mercy for
 	me in heaven, because I am a Jew's daughter: and he
 	says, you are no good member of the commonwealth,
 	for in converting Jews to Christians, you raise the
 	price of pork.
 LORENZO	I shall answer that better to the commonwealth than
 	you can the getting up of the negro's belly: the
 	Moor is with child by you, Launcelot.
 LAUNCELOT	It is much that the Moor should be more than reason:
 	but if she be less than an honest woman, she is
 	indeed more than I took her for.
 LORENZO	How every fool can play upon the word! I think the
 	best grace of wit will shortly turn into silence,
 	and discourse grow commendable in none only but
 	parrots. Go in, sirrah; bid them prepare for dinner.
 LAUNCELOT	That is done, sir; they have all stomachs.
 LORENZO	Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you! then bid
 	them prepare dinner.
 LAUNCELOT	That is done too, sir; only 'cover' is the word.
 LORENZO	Will you cover then, sir?
 LAUNCELOT	Not so, sir, neither; I know my duty.
 LORENZO	Yet more quarrelling with occasion! Wilt thou show
 	the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant? I pray
 	tree, understand a plain man in his plain meaning:
 	go to thy fellows; bid them cover the table, serve
 	in the meat, and we will come in to dinner.
 LAUNCELOT	For the table, sir, it shall be served in; for the
 	meat, sir, it shall be covered; for your coming in
 	to dinner, sir, why, let it be as humours and
 	conceits shall govern.
 LORENZO	O dear discretion, how his words are suited!
 	The fool hath planted in his memory
 	An army of good words; and I do know
 	A many fools, that stand in better place,
 	Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word
 	Defy the matter. How cheerest thou, Jessica?
 	And now, good sweet, say thy opinion,
 	How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio's wife?
 JESSICA	Past all expressing. It is very meet
 	The Lord Bassanio live an upright life;
 	For, having such a blessing in his lady,
 	He finds the joys of heaven here on earth;
 	And if on earth he do not mean it, then
 	In reason he should never come to heaven
 	Why, if two gods should play some heavenly match
 	And on the wager lay two earthly women,
 	And Portia one, there must be something else
 	Pawn'd with the other, for the poor rude world
 	Hath not her fellow.
 LORENZO	Even such a husband
 	Hast thou of me as she is for a wife.
 JESSICA	Nay, but ask my opinion too of that.
 LORENZO	I will anon: first, let us go to dinner.
 JESSICA	Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach.
 LORENZO	No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk;
 '	Then, howso'er thou speak'st, 'mong other things
 	I shall digest it.
 JESSICA	                  Well, I'll set you forth.
 SCENE I	Venice. A court of justice.
 	[Enter the DUKE, the Magnificoes, ANTONIO, BASSANIO,
 	GRATIANO, SALERIO, and others]
 DUKE	What, is Antonio here?
 ANTONIO	Ready, so please your grace.
 DUKE	I am sorry for thee: thou art come to answer
 	A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch
 	uncapable of pity, void and empty
 	From any dram of mercy.
 ANTONIO	I have heard
 	Your grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify
 	His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate
 	And that no lawful means can carry me
 	Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose
 	My patience to his fury, and am arm'd
 	To suffer, with a quietness of spirit,
 	The very tyranny and rage of his.
 DUKE	Go one, and call the Jew into the court.
 SALERIO	He is ready at the door: he comes, my lord.
 	[Enter SHYLOCK]
 DUKE	Make room, and let him stand before our face.
 	Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too,
 	That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice
 	To the last hour of act; and then 'tis thought
 	Thou'lt show thy mercy and remorse more strange
 	Than is thy strange apparent cruelty;
 	And where thou now exact'st the penalty,
 	Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh,
 	Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture,
 	But, touch'd with human gentleness and love,
 	Forgive a moiety of the principal;
 	Glancing an eye of pity on his losses,
 	That have of late so huddled on his back,
 	Enow to press a royal merchant down
 	And pluck commiseration of his state
 	From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint,
 	From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train'd
 	To offices of tender courtesy.
 	We all expect a gentle answer, Jew.
 SHYLOCK	I have possess'd your grace of what I purpose;
 	And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn
 	To have the due and forfeit of my bond:
 	If you deny it, let the danger light
 	Upon your charter and your city's freedom.
 	You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have
 	A weight of carrion flesh than to receive
 	Three thousand ducats: I'll not answer that:
 	But, say, it is my humour: is it answer'd?
 	What if my house be troubled with a rat
 	And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats
 	To have it baned? What, are you answer'd yet?
 	Some men there are love not a gaping pig;
 	Some, that are mad if they behold a cat;
 	And others, when the bagpipe sings i' the nose,
 	Cannot contain their urine: for affection,
 	Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood
 	Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer:
 	As there is no firm reason to be render'd,
 	Why he cannot abide a gaping pig;
 	Why he, a harmless necessary cat;
 	Why he, a woollen bagpipe; but of force
 	Must yield to such inevitable shame
 	As to offend, himself being offended;
 	So can I give no reason, nor I will not,
 	More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing
 	I bear Antonio, that I follow thus
 	A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd?
 BASSANIO	This is no answer, thou unfeeling man,
 	To excuse the current of thy cruelty.
 SHYLOCK	I am not bound to please thee with my answers.
 BASSANIO	Do all men kill the things they do not love?
 SHYLOCK	Hates any man the thing he would not kill?
 BASSANIO	Every offence is not a hate at first.
 SHYLOCK	What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice?
 ANTONIO	I pray you, think you question with the Jew:
 	You may as well go stand upon the beach
 	And bid the main flood bate his usual height;
 	You may as well use question with the wolf
 	Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb;
 	You may as well forbid the mountain pines
 	To wag their high tops and to make no noise,
 	When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven;
 	You may as well do anything most hard,
 	As seek to soften that--than which what's harder?--
 	His Jewish heart: therefore, I do beseech you,
 	Make no more offers, use no farther means,
 	But with all brief and plain conveniency
 	Let me have judgment and the Jew his will.
 BASSANIO	For thy three thousand ducats here is six.
 SHYLOCK	What judgment shall I dread, doing
 	Were in six parts and every part a ducat,
 	I would not draw them; I would have my bond.
 DUKE	How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none?
 SHYLOCK	What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong?
 	You have among you many a purchased slave,
 	Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules,
 	You use in abject and in slavish parts,
 	Because you bought them: shall I say to you,
 	Let them be free, marry them to your heirs?
 	Why sweat they under burthens? let their beds
 	Be made as soft as yours and let their palates
 	Be season'd with such viands? You will answer
 	'The slaves are ours:' so do I answer you:
 	The pound of flesh, which I demand of him,
 	Is dearly bought; 'tis mine and I will have it.
 	If you deny me, fie upon your law!
 	There is no force in the decrees of Venice.
 	I stand for judgment: answer; shall I have it?
 DUKE	Upon my power I may dismiss this court,
 	Unless Bellario, a learned doctor,
 	Whom I have sent for to determine this,
 	Come here to-day.
 SALERIO	                  My lord, here stays without
 	A messenger with letters from the doctor,
 	New come from Padua.
 DUKE	Bring us the letter; call the messenger.
 BASSANIO	Good cheer, Antonio! What, man, courage yet!
 	The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones and all,
 	Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood.
 ANTONIO	I am a tainted wether of the flock,
 	Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit
 	Drops earliest to the ground; and so let me
 	You cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio,
 	Than to live still and write mine epitaph.
 	[Enter NERISSA, dressed like a lawyer's clerk]
 DUKE	Came you from Padua, from Bellario?
 NERISSA	From both, my lord. Bellario greets your grace.
 	[Presenting a letter]
 BASSANIO	Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?
 SHYLOCK	To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there.
 GRATIANO	Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,
 	Thou makest thy knife keen; but no metal can,
 	No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keenness
 	Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee?
 SHYLOCK	No, none that thou hast wit enough to make.
 GRATIANO	O, be thou damn'd, inexecrable dog!
 	And for thy life let justice be accused.
 	Thou almost makest me waver in my faith
 	To hold opinion with Pythagoras,
 	That souls of animals infuse themselves
 	Into the trunks of men: thy currish spirit
 	Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for human slaughter,
 	Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet,
 	And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam,
 	Infused itself in thee; for thy desires
 	Are wolvish, bloody, starved and ravenous.
 SHYLOCK	Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond,
 	Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud:
 	Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall
 	To cureless ruin. I stand here for law.
 DUKE	This letter from Bellario doth commend
 	A young and learned doctor to our court.
 	Where is he?
 NERISSA	                  He attendeth here hard by,
 	To know your answer, whether you'll admit him.
 DUKE	With all my heart. Some three or four of you
 	Go give him courteous conduct to this place.
 	Meantime the court shall hear Bellario's letter.
 Clerk	[Reads]
 	Your grace shall understand that at the receipt of
 	your letter I am very sick: but in the instant that
 	your messenger came, in loving visitation was with
 	me a young doctor of Rome; his name is Balthasar. I
 	acquainted him with the cause in controversy between
 	the Jew and Antonio the merchant: we turned o'er
 	many books together: he is furnished with my
 	opinion; which, bettered with his own learning, the
 	greatness whereof I cannot enough commend, comes
 	with him, at my importunity, to fill up your grace's
 	request in my stead. I beseech you, let his lack of
 	years be no impediment to let him lack a reverend
 	estimation; for I never knew so young a body with so
 	old a head. I leave him to your gracious
 	acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his
 DUKE	You hear the learn'd Bellario, what he writes:
 	And here, I take it, is the doctor come.
 	[Enter PORTIA, dressed like a doctor of laws]
 	Give 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?
 PORTIA	I am informed thoroughly of the cause.
 	Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew?
 DUKE	Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth.
 PORTIA	Is your name Shylock?
 SHYLOCK	Shylock is my name.
 PORTIA	Of a strange nature is the suit you follow;
 	Yet in such rule that the Venetian law
 	Cannot impugn you as you do proceed.
 	You stand within his danger, do you not?
 ANTONIO	Ay, so he says.
 PORTIA	                  Do you confess the bond?
 PORTIA	    Then must the Jew be merciful.
 SHYLOCK	On what compulsion must I? tell me that.
 PORTIA	The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
 	It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
 	Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;
 	It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
 	'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
 	The throned monarch better than his crown;
 	His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
 	The attribute to awe and majesty,
 	Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
 	But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
 	It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
 	It is an attribute to God himself;
 	And earthly power doth then show likest God's
 	When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
 	Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
 	That, in the course of justice, none of us
 	Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
 	And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
 	The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much
 	To mitigate the justice of thy plea;
 	Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
 	Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there.
 SHYLOCK	My deeds upon my head! I crave the law,
 	The penalty and forfeit of my bond.
 PORTIA	Is he not able to discharge the money?
 BASSANIO	Yes, here I tender it for him in the court;
 	Yea, twice the sum: if that will not suffice,
 	I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er,
 	On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart:
 	If this will not suffice, it must appear
 	That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you,
 	Wrest once the law to your authority:
 	To do a great right, do a little wrong,
 	And curb this cruel devil of his will.
 PORTIA	It must not be; there is no power in Venice
 	Can alter a decree established:
 	'Twill be recorded for a precedent,
 	And many an error by the same example
 	Will rush into the state: it cannot be.
 SHYLOCK	A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel!
 	O wise young judge, how I do honour thee!
 PORTIA	I pray you, let me look upon the bond.
 SHYLOCK	Here 'tis, most reverend doctor, here it is.
 PORTIA	Shylock, there's thrice thy money offer'd thee.
 SHYLOCK	An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven:
 	Shall I lay perjury upon my soul?
 	No, not for Venice.
 PORTIA	Why, this bond is forfeit;
 	And lawfully by this the Jew may claim
 	A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off
 	Nearest the merchant's heart. Be merciful:
 	Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond.
 SHYLOCK	When it is paid according to the tenor.
 	It doth appear you are a worthy judge;
 	You know the law, your exposition
 	Hath been most sound: I charge you by the law,
 	Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar,
 	Proceed to judgment: by my soul I swear
 	There is no power in the tongue of man
 	To alter me: I stay here on my bond.
 ANTONIO	Most heartily I do beseech the court
 	To give the judgment.
 PORTIA	Why then, thus it is:
 	You must prepare your bosom for his knife.
 SHYLOCK	O noble judge! O excellent young man!
 PORTIA	For the intent and purpose of the law
 	Hath full relation to the penalty,
 	Which here appeareth due upon the bond.
 SHYLOCK	'Tis very true: O wise and upright judge!
 	How much more elder art thou than thy looks!
 PORTIA	Therefore lay bare your bosom.
 SHYLOCK	Ay, his breast:
 	So says the bond: doth it not, noble judge?
 	'Nearest his heart:' those are the very words.
 PORTIA	It is so. Are there balance here to weigh
 	The flesh?
 SHYLOCK	         I have them ready.
 PORTIA	Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge,
 	To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death.
 SHYLOCK	Is it so nominated in the bond?
 PORTIA	It is not so express'd: but what of that?
 	'Twere good you do so much for charity.
 SHYLOCK	I cannot find it; 'tis not in the bond.
 PORTIA	You, merchant, have you any thing to say?
 ANTONIO	But little: I am arm'd and well prepared.
 	Give me your hand, Bassanio: fare you well!
 	Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you;
 	For herein Fortune shows herself more kind
 	Than is her custom: it is still her use
 	To let the wretched man outlive his wealth,
 	To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow
 	An age of poverty; from which lingering penance
 	Of such misery doth she cut me off.
 	Commend me to your honourable wife:
 	Tell her the process of Antonio's end;
 	Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death;
 	And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge
 	Whether Bassanio had not once a love.
 	Repent but you that you shall lose your friend,
 	And he repents not that he pays your debt;
 	For if the Jew do cut but deep enough,
 	I'll pay it presently with all my heart.
 BASSANIO	Antonio, I am married to a wife
 	Which is as dear to me as life itself;
 	But life itself, my wife, and all the world,
 	Are not with me esteem'd above thy life:
 	I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all
 	Here to this devil, to deliver you.
 PORTIA	Your wife would give you little thanks for that,
 	If she were by, to hear you make the offer.
 GRATIANO	I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love:
 	I would she were in heaven, so she could
 	Entreat some power to change this currish Jew.
 NERISSA	'Tis well you offer it behind her back;
 	The wish would make else an unquiet house.
 SHYLOCK	These be the Christian husbands. I have a daughter;
 	Would any of the stock of Barrabas
 	Had been her husband rather than a Christian!
 	We trifle time: I pray thee, pursue sentence.
 PORTIA	A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine:
 	The court awards it, and the law doth give it.
 SHYLOCK	Most rightful judge!
 PORTIA	And you must cut this flesh from off his breast:
 	The law allows it, and the court awards it.
 SHYLOCK	Most learned judge! A sentence! Come, prepare!
 PORTIA	Tarry a little; there is something else.
 	This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood;
 	The words expressly are 'a pound of flesh:'
 	Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh;
 	But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed
 	One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods
 	Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate
 	Unto the state of Venice.
 GRATIANO	O upright judge! Mark, Jew: O learned judge!
 SHYLOCK	Is that the law?
 PORTIA	                  Thyself shalt see the act:
 	For, as thou urgest justice, be assured
 	Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest.
 GRATIANO	O learned judge! Mark, Jew: a learned judge!
 SHYLOCK	I take this offer, then; pay the bond thrice
 	And let the Christian go.
 BASSANIO	Here is the money.
 	The Jew shall have all justice; soft! no haste:
 	He shall have nothing but the penalty.
 GRATIANO	O Jew! an upright judge, a learned judge!
 PORTIA	Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh.
 	Shed thou no blood, nor cut thou less nor more
 	But just a pound of flesh: if thou cut'st more
 	Or less than a just pound, be it but so much
 	As makes it light or heavy in the substance,
 	Or the division of the twentieth part
 	Of one poor scruple, nay, if the scale do turn
 	But in the estimation of a hair,
 	Thou diest and all thy goods are confiscate.
 GRATIANO	A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew!
 	Now, infidel, I have you on the hip.
 PORTIA	Why doth the Jew pause? take thy forfeiture.
 SHYLOCK	Give me my principal, and let me go.
 BASSANIO	I have it ready for thee; here it is.
 PORTIA	He hath refused it in the open court:
 	He shall have merely justice and his bond.
 GRATIANO	A Daniel, still say I, a second Daniel!
 	I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.
 SHYLOCK	Shall I not have barely my principal?
 PORTIA	Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture,
 	To be so taken at thy peril, Jew.
 SHYLOCK	Why, then the devil give him good of it!
 	I'll stay no longer question.
 PORTIA	Tarry, Jew:
 	The law hath yet another hold on you.
 	It is enacted in the laws of Venice,
 	If it be proved against an alien
 	That by direct or indirect attempts
 	He seek the life of any citizen,
 	The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive
 	Shall seize one half his goods; the other half
 	Comes to the privy coffer of the state;
 	And the offender's life lies in the mercy
 	Of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice.
 	In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st;
 	For it appears, by manifest proceeding,
 	That indirectly and directly too
 	Thou hast contrived against the very life
 	Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr'd
 	The danger formerly by me rehearsed.
 	Down therefore and beg mercy of the duke.
 GRATIANO	Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself:
 	And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state,
 	Thou hast not left the value of a cord;
 	Therefore thou must be hang'd at the state's charge.
 DUKE	That thou shalt see the difference of our spirits,
 	I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it:
 	For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's;
 	The other half comes to the general state,
 	Which humbleness may drive unto a fine.
 PORTIA	Ay, for the state, not for Antonio.
 SHYLOCK	Nay, take my life and all; pardon not that:
 	You take my house when you do take the prop
 	That doth sustain my house; you take my life
 	When you do take the means whereby I live.
 PORTIA	What mercy can you render him, Antonio?
 GRATIANO	A halter gratis; nothing else, for God's sake.
 ANTONIO	So please my lord the duke and all the court
 	To quit the fine for one half of his goods,
 	I am content; so he will let me have
 	The other half in use, to render it,
 	Upon his death, unto the gentleman
 	That lately stole his daughter:
 	Two things provided more, that, for this favour,
 	He presently become a Christian;
 	The other, that he do record a gift,
 	Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd,
 	Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter.
 DUKE	He shall do this, or else I do recant
 	The pardon that I late pronounced here.
 PORTIA	Art thou contented, Jew? what dost thou say?
 SHYLOCK	I am content.
 PORTIA	                  Clerk, draw a deed of gift.
 SHYLOCK	I pray you, give me leave to go from hence;
 	I am not well: send the deed after me,
 	And I will sign it.
 DUKE	Get thee gone, but do it.
 GRATIANO	In christening shalt thou have two god-fathers:
 	Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more,
 	To bring thee to the gallows, not the font.
 	[Exit SHYLOCK]
 DUKE	Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner.
 PORTIA	I humbly do desire your grace of pardon:
 	I must away this night toward Padua,
 	And it is meet I presently set forth.
 DUKE	I am sorry that your leisure serves you not.
 	Antonio, gratify this gentleman,
 	For, in my mind, you are much bound to him.
 	[Exeunt Duke and his train]
 BASSANIO	Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend
 	Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted
 	Of grievous penalties; in lieu whereof,
 	Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew,
 	We freely cope your courteous pains withal.
 ANTONIO	And stand indebted, over and above,
 	In love and service to you evermore.
 PORTIA	He is well paid that is well satisfied;
 	And I, delivering you, am satisfied
 	And therein do account myself well paid:
 	My mind was never yet more mercenary.
 	I pray you, know me when we meet again:
 	I wish you well, and so I take my leave.
 BASSANIO	Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further:
 	Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute,
 	Not as a fee: grant me two things, I pray you,
 	Not to deny me, and to pardon me.
 PORTIA	You press me far, and therefore I will yield.
 	Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for your sake;
 	And, for your love, I'll take this ring from you:
 	Do not draw back your hand; I'll take no more;
 	And you in love shall not deny me this.
 BASSANIO	This ring, good sir, alas, it is a trifle!
 	I will not shame myself to give you this.
 PORTIA	I will have nothing else but only this;
 	And now methinks I have a mind to it.
 BASSANIO	There's more depends on this than on the value.
 	The dearest ring in Venice will I give you,
 	And find it out by proclamation:
 	Only for this, I pray you, pardon me.
 PORTIA	I see, sir, you are liberal in offers
 	You taught me first to beg; and now methinks
 	You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd.
 BASSANIO	Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife;
 	And when she put it on, she made me vow
 	That I should neither sell nor give nor lose it.
 PORTIA	That 'scuse serves many men to save their gifts.
 	An if your wife be not a mad-woman,
 	And know how well I have deserved the ring,
 	She would not hold out enemy for ever,
 	For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you!
 	[Exeunt Portia and Nerissa]
 ANTONIO	My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring:
 	Let his deservings and my love withal
 	Be valued against your wife's commandment.
 BASSANIO	Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him;
 	Give him the ring, and bring him, if thou canst,
 	Unto Antonio's house: away! make haste.
 	[Exit Gratiano]
 	Come, you and I will thither presently;
 	And in the morning early will we both
 	Fly toward Belmont: come, Antonio.
 SCENE II	The same. A street.
 	[Enter PORTIA and NERISSA]
 PORTIA	Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this deed
 	And let him sign it: we'll away to-night
 	And be a day before our husbands home:
 	This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo.
 	[Enter GRATIANO]
 GRATIANO	Fair sir, you are well o'erta'en
 	My Lord Bassanio upon more advice
 	Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat
 	Your company at dinner.
 PORTIA	That cannot be:
 	His ring I do accept most thankfully:
 	And so, I pray you, tell him: furthermore,
 	I pray you, show my youth old Shylock's house.
 GRATIANO	That will I do.
 NERISSA	                  Sir, I would speak with you.
 	[Aside to PORTIA]
 	I'll see if I can get my husband's ring,
 	Which I did make him swear to keep for ever.
 PORTIA	[Aside to NERISSA]  Thou mayst, I warrant.
 	We shall have old swearing
 	That they did give the rings away to men;
 	But we'll outface them, and outswear them too.
 	Away! make haste: thou knowist where I will tarry.
 NERISSA	Come, good sir, will you show me to this house?
 SCENE I	Belmont. Avenue to PORTIA'S house.
 LORENZO	The moon shines bright: in such a night as this,
 	When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees
 	And they did make no noise, in such a night
 	Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls
 	And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents,
 	Where Cressid lay that night.
 JESSICA	In such a night
 	Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew
 	And saw the lion's shadow ere himself
 	And ran dismay'd away.
 LORENZO	In such a night
 	Stood Dido with a willow in her hand
 	Upon the wild sea banks and waft her love
 	To come again to Carthage.
 JESSICA	In such a night
 	Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs
 	That did renew old AEson.
 LORENZO	In such a night
 	Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew
 	And with an unthrift love did run from Venice
 	As far as Belmont.
 JESSICA	                  In such a night
 	Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well,
 	Stealing her soul with many vows of faith
 	And ne'er a true one.
 LORENZO	In such a night
 	Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,
 	Slander her love, and he forgave it her.
 JESSICA	I would out-night you, did no body come;
 	But, hark, I hear the footing of a man.
 	[Enter STEPHANO]
 LORENZO	Who comes so fast in silence of the night?
 STEPHANO	A friend.
 LORENZO	A friend! what friend? your name, I pray you, friend?
 STEPHANO	Stephano is my name; and I bring word
 	My mistress will before the break of day
 	Be here at Belmont; she doth stray about
 	By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays
 	For happy wedlock hours.
 LORENZO	Who comes with her?
 STEPHANO	None but a holy hermit and her maid.
 	I pray you, is my master yet return'd?
 LORENZO	He is not, nor we have not heard from him.
 	But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica,
 	And ceremoniously let us prepare
 	Some welcome for the mistress of the house.
 LAUNCELOT	Sola, sola! wo ha, ho! sola, sola!
 LORENZO	Who calls?
 LAUNCELOT	Sola! did you see Master Lorenzo?
 	Master Lorenzo, sola, sola!
 LORENZO	Leave hollaing, man: here.
 LAUNCELOT	Sola! where? where?
 LAUNCELOT	Tell him there's a post come from my master, with
 	his horn full of good news: my master will be here
 	ere morning.
 LORENZO	Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their coming.
 	And yet no matter: why should we go in?
 	My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you,
 	Within the house, your mistress is at hand;
 	And bring your music forth into the air.
 	[Exit Stephano]
 	How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
 	Here will we sit and let the sounds of music
 	Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night
 	Become the touches of sweet harmony.
 	Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven
 	Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold:
 	There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st
 	But in his motion like an angel sings,
 	Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins;
 	Such harmony is in immortal souls;
 	But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
 	Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
 	[Enter Musicians]
 	Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn!
 	With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,
 	And draw her home with music.
 JESSICA	I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
 LORENZO	The reason is, your spirits are attentive:
 	For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
 	Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,
 	Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,
 	Which is the hot condition of their blood;
 	If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,
 	Or any air of music touch their ears,
 	You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,
 	Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze
 	By the sweet power of music: therefore the poet
 	Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods;
 	Since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage,
 	But music for the time doth change his nature.
 	The man that hath no music in himself,
 	Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
 	Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils;
 	The motions of his spirit are dull as night
 	And his affections dark as Erebus:
 	Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music.
 	[Enter PORTIA and NERISSA]
 PORTIA	That light we see is burning in my hall.
 	How far that little candle throws his beams!
 	So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
 NERISSA	When the moon shone, we did not see the candle.
 PORTIA	So doth the greater glory dim the less:
 	A substitute shines brightly as a king
 	Unto the king be by, and then his state
 	Empties itself, as doth an inland brook
 	Into the main of waters. Music! hark!
 NERISSA	It is your music, madam, of the house.
 PORTIA	Nothing is good, I see, without respect:
 	Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day.
 NERISSA	Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.
 PORTIA	The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark,
 	When neither is attended, and I think
 	The nightingale, if she should sing by day,
 	When every goose is cackling, would be thought
 	No better a musician than the wren.
 	How many things by season season'd are
 	To their right praise and true perfection!
 	Peace, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion
 	And would not be awaked.
 	[Music ceases]
 LORENZO	That is the voice,
 	Or I am much deceived, of Portia.
 PORTIA	He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo,
 	By the bad voice.
 LORENZO	                  Dear lady, welcome home.
 PORTIA	We have been praying for our husbands' healths,
 	Which speed, we hope, the better for our words.
 	Are they return'd?
 LORENZO	                  Madam, they are not yet;
 	But there is come a messenger before,
 	To signify their coming.
 PORTIA	Go in, Nerissa;
 	Give order to my servants that they take
 	No note at all of our being absent hence;
 	Nor you, Lorenzo; Jessica, nor you.
 	[A tucket sounds]
 LORENZO	Your husband is at hand; I hear his trumpet:
 	We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not.
 PORTIA	This night methinks is but the daylight sick;
 	It looks a little paler: 'tis a day,
 	Such as the day is when the sun is hid.
 	their followers]
 BASSANIO	We should hold day with the Antipodes,
 	If you would walk in absence of the sun.
 PORTIA	Let me give light, but let me not be light;
 	For a light wife doth make a heavy husband,
 	And never be Bassanio so for me:
 	But God sort all! You are welcome home, my lord.
 BASSANIO	I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my friend.
 	This is the man, this is Antonio,
 	To whom I am so infinitely bound.
 PORTIA	You should in all sense be much bound to him.
 	For, as I hear, he was much bound for you.
 ANTONIO	No more than I am well acquitted of.
 PORTIA	Sir, you are very welcome to our house:
 	It must appear in other ways than words,
 	Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.
 GRATIANO	[To NERISSA]  By yonder moon I swear you do me wrong;
 	In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk:
 	Would he were gelt that had it, for my part,
 	Since you do take it, love, so much at heart.
 PORTIA	A quarrel, ho, already! what's the matter?
 GRATIANO	About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
 	That she did give me, whose posy was
 	For all the world like cutler's poetry
 	Upon a knife, 'Love me, and leave me not.'
 NERISSA	What talk you of the posy or the value?
 	You swore to me, when I did give it you,
 	That you would wear it till your hour of death
 	And that it should lie with you in your grave:
 	Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,
 	You should have been respective and have kept it.
 	Gave it a judge's clerk! no, God's my judge,
 	The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it.
 GRATIANO	He will, an if he live to be a man.
 NERISSA	Ay, if a woman live to be a man.
 GRATIANO	Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth,
 	A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy,
 	No higher than thyself; the judge's clerk,
 	A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee:
 	I could not for my heart deny it him.
 PORTIA	You were to blame, I must be plain with you,
 	To part so slightly with your wife's first gift:
 	A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger
 	And so riveted with faith unto your flesh.
 	I gave my love a ring and made him swear
 	Never to part with it; and here he stands;
 	I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it
 	Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth
 	That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano,
 	You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief:
 	An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it.
 BASSANIO	[Aside]  Why, I were best to cut my left hand off
 	And swear I lost the ring defending it.
 GRATIANO	My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away
 	Unto the judge that begg'd it and indeed
 	Deserved it too; and then the boy, his clerk,
 	That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine;
 	And neither man nor master would take aught
 	But the two rings.
 PORTIA	What ring gave you my lord?
 	Not that, I hope, which you received of me.
 BASSANIO	If I could add a lie unto a fault,
 	I would deny it; but you see my finger
 	Hath not the ring upon it; it is gone.
 PORTIA	Even so void is your false heart of truth.
 	By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed
 	Until I see the ring.
 NERISSA	Nor I in yours
 	Till I again see mine.
 BASSANIO	Sweet Portia,
 	If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
 	If you did know for whom I gave the ring
 	And would conceive for what I gave the ring
 	And how unwillingly I left the ring,
 	When nought would be accepted but the ring,
 	You would abate the strength of your displeasure.
 PORTIA	If you had known the virtue of the ring,
 	Or half her worthiness that gave the ring,
 	Or your own honour to contain the ring,
 	You would not then have parted with the ring.
 	What man is there so much unreasonable,
 	If you had pleased to have defended it
 	With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty
 	To urge the thing held as a ceremony?
 	Nerissa teaches me what to believe:
 	I'll die for't but some woman had the ring.
 BASSANIO	No, by my honour, madam, by my soul,
 	No woman had it, but a civil doctor,
 	Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me
 	And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him
 	And suffer'd him to go displeased away;
 	Even he that did uphold the very life
 	Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady?
 	I was enforced to send it after him;
 	I was beset with shame and courtesy;
 	My honour would not let ingratitude
 	So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady;
 	For, by these blessed candles of the night,
 	Had you been there, I think you would have begg'd
 	The ring of me to give the worthy doctor.
 PORTIA	Let not that doctor e'er come near my house:
 	Since he hath got the jewel that I loved,
 	And that which you did swear to keep for me,
 	I will become as liberal as you;
 	I'll not deny him any thing I have,
 	No, not my body nor my husband's bed:
 	Know him I shall, I am well sure of it:
 	Lie not a night from home; watch me like Argus:
 	If you do not, if I be left alone,
 	Now, by mine honour, which is yet mine own,
 	I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow.
 NERISSA	And I his clerk; therefore be well advised
 	How you do leave me to mine own protection.
 GRATIANO	Well, do you so; let not me take him, then;
 	For if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen.
 ANTONIO	I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels.
 PORTIA	Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome notwithstanding.
 BASSANIO	Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong;
 	And, in the hearing of these many friends,
 	I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes,
 	Wherein I see myself--
 PORTIA	Mark you but that!
 	In both my eyes he doubly sees himself;
 	In each eye, one: swear by your double self,
 	And there's an oath of credit.
 BASSANIO	Nay, but hear me:
 	Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear
 	I never more will break an oath with thee.
 ANTONIO	I once did lend my body for his wealth;
 	Which, but for him that had your husband's ring,
 	Had quite miscarried: I dare be bound again,
 	My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord
 	Will never more break faith advisedly.
 PORTIA	Then you shall be his surety. Give him this
 	And bid him keep it better than the other.
 ANTONIO	Here, Lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring.
 BASSANIO	By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor!
 PORTIA	I had it of him: pardon me, Bassanio;
 	For, by this ring, the doctor lay with me.
 NERISSA	And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano;
 	For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk,
 	In lieu of this last night did lie with me.
 GRATIANO	Why, this is like the mending of highways
 	In summer, where the ways are fair enough:
 	What, are we cuckolds ere we have deserved it?
 PORTIA	Speak not so grossly. You are all amazed:
 	Here is a letter; read it at your leisure;
 	It comes from Padua, from Bellario:
 	There you shall find that Portia was the doctor,
 	Nerissa there her clerk: Lorenzo here
 	Shall witness I set forth as soon as you
 	And even but now return'd; I have not yet
 	Enter'd my house. Antonio, you are welcome;
 	And I have better news in store for you
 	Than you expect: unseal this letter soon;
 	There you shall find three of your argosies
 	Are richly come to harbour suddenly:
 	You shall not know by what strange accident
 	I chanced on this letter.
 ANTONIO	I am dumb.
 BASSANIO	Were you the doctor and I knew you not?
 GRATIANO	Were you the clerk that is to make me cuckold?
 NERISSA	Ay, but the clerk that never means to do it,
 	Unless he live until he be a man.
 BASSANIO	Sweet doctor, you shall be my bed-fellow:
 	When I am absent, then lie with my wife.
 ANTONIO	Sweet lady, you have given me life and living;
 	For here I read for certain that my ships
 	Are safely come to road.
 PORTIA	How now, Lorenzo!
 	My clerk hath some good comforts too for you.
 NERISSA	Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee.
 	There do I give to you and Jessica,
 	From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift,
 	After his death, of all he dies possess'd of.
 LORENZO	Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way
 	Of starved people.
 PORTIA	                  It is almost morning,
 	And yet I am sure you are not satisfied
 	Of these events at full. Let us go in;
 	And charge us there upon inter'gatories,
 	And we will answer all things faithfully.
 GRATIANO	Let it be so: the first inter'gatory
 	That my Nerissa shall be sworn on is,
 	Whether till the next night she had rather stay,
 	Or go to bed now, being two hours to day:
 	But were the day come, I should wish it dark,
 	That I were couching with the doctor's clerk.
 	Well, while I live I'll fear no other thing
 	So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring.

Next: Merry Wives of Windsor