DUKE OF VENICE.

PRINCE OF MOROCCO,Suitors to Portia.

PRINCE OF ARRAGON,

ANTONIO, the Merchant of Venice.

BASSANIO, his Friend.

SALANIO,

SALERIO, a Messenger from Venice. LEONARDO, Servant to Bassanio. BALTHAZAR, Servants to Portia. STEPHANO,

PORTIA, a rich Heiress.

GRATIANO,

LORENZO, in love with Jessica.

SHYLOCK, a Jew.

TUBAL, a Jew, his Friend.

LAUNCELOT GOBBO, a Clown, Servant to Shy

lock.

OLD GOBBO, Father to Launcelot.

JESSICA, Daughter to Shylock.

Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, Jailer, Servants, and other Attendants.

SCENE, partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the Seat of Portia, on the Continent.

ACT I.

SCENE 1.-Venice.-A Street.
Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SALANIO.
Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad;
It wearies me; you say, it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff '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.

Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean;
There, where your argosies* with portly sail,-
Like signiors and rich burghers of the flood,
Or, as it were the pageants of the sea,-
Do overpeer the petty traffickers,
That curt'sy to them reverence,

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

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

you merry,

If worthier friends had not prevented me.
Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard.
I take it, your own business calls on you,
And you embrace the occasion to depart.
Salar. Good morrow, my good fords.
Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we
laugh? Say, when?

You grow exceeding strange: Must it be so? Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours.

[Exeunt SALARINO and SALANIO. Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you have found We two will leave you: but, at dinner time, Antonio, I pray you, have in mind where we must meet.

Bass. I will not fail you.

Gra You look not well, signior Antonio; You have too much respect upon the world: They lose it, that do buy it with much care. Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd. Ant. E hold the world but as the world, Gratiano,

A stage, where every man must play a part,
And mine a sad one.

Gra. Let me play the Fool:
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come;
And let my liver rather heat with wine,
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? [dice
Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaun-
By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,-
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks;-
There are a sort of men, whose visages

Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond;
And do a wilful stillness entertain,
With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;
As who should say, I am Sir Oracle,
And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!
O, my Antonio, I do know of these,
That therefore only are reputed wise,
For saying nothing; who, I am very sure,
If they should speak, would almost damn those
[fools.
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers,
I'll tell thee more of this another time:
But fish not, with this melancholy bait,
For this fool's gudgeon, this opinion.--
Come, good Lorenzo:-Fare ye well, a while;
I'll end my exhortation after dinner.

ears,

Lor. Well, we will leave you then till din

ner-time:

I must be one of these same dumb wise men, For Gratiano never lets me speak.

more,

Lie all unlock'd to your occasions.
Bass. In my school days, when I had lost
one shaft,

I shot his fellow of the self-same flight
The self-same way, with more advised watch,
To find the other forth; and by advent'ring 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.

Ant. 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 press'd unto it: therefore, speak.
Bass. 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, Colchas'
strand,

And many Jasous come in quest of her.
O my Antonio, had I but the means
To hold a rival place with one of them,
I have a mind presages me such thrift,
That I should questionless be fortunate.
Ant. Thou know'st, that all my fortunes are
at sea;
Nor 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.

Ant. Well; tell me now, what lady is this same To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage That you to-day promis'd to tell me of?

Bass. "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 abridg'd From such a noble rate; but my chief care Is, to come fairly off from the great debts, Wherein my time, something too prodigal, Hath left me gaged: To you Antonio, I owe the most, in money, and in love; And from your love I have a warranty To unburden all my plots and purposes, How to get clear of all the debts I owe.

Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know And, if it stand, as you yourself still do, [it; Within the eye of honour, be assur'd, My purse, my person, my extremest means,

abstinate silence.

House

Enter PORTIA and NERISSA.

[Exeunt.

Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is a-weary of this great world.

Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are: And, yet, for aught I see, they are as sick, that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing: It is no mean happiness therefore, to be seated in the mean; superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer.

Por. Good sentences, and well pronounced. Ner. They would be better, if well followed. Por. If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages, princes' palaces. It is a good divine, that follows his own instructions: I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to

tion.

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

Ner. Then, is there the county+ Palatine. Por. He doth nothing but frown; as who should say, An 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 two!

Ner. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon ?

Por. God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker; But, he! why, he hath a horse better than the 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.

Ner. What say you then to Faulconbridge, the young baron of England?

Por. 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 penny-worth 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 behaviour every where.

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

185 duke of Saxony's nephew? Ner. How like you the young German, the

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

Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose your father's will, if you should refuse to acthe right casket, you should refuse to perform cept him.

Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray. contrary casket: for, if the devil be within, thee, set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the and that temptation without, I know he will choose it. I will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I will be married to a sponge.

Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of these lords; they have acquainted me, return to their home, and to trouble you with with their determination: which is indeed, to' no more suit; unless you may be won by some other sort than your father's imposition, depending on the caskets.

will die as chaste as Diana, unless I be abPor. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I tained 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 them a fair departure. on his very absence, and pray God grant

father's time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your soldier, that came hither in company of the marquis of Montferrat?

Per. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think

so was he called.

Ner. True, madam; he, of all the men that deserving a fair lady. ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best

him worthy of thy praise.-How now! what Por. I remember him well; and I remember

Enter a SERVANT.

Temper, qualities

Shy. Antonio is a good man. Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary?

Shy. Ho, 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, squander'd abroad: But ships are but boards, sailors but men : there be land-rats, and water-rats, waterthieves, 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 boud.

Bass. Be assured you may.

Shy. I will be assured, 1 may; and, that may be assured, I will bethink me: May speak with Antonio?

Bass. If it please you to dine with us.

Shy. 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.

Bass. This is signior Antonio.

Ant. And what of him? did he take interest? Shy. No, not take interest; not, as you would say, Directly interest: mark what Jacob did. When Laban and himself were compromis'd, That all the eanlings which were streak'd and pied, [rank, Should fall as Jacob's hire; the ewes, being 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 party-colour'd lambs, and those were Jacob's.

This was a way to thrive, and he was biest; And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not.

Ant. This was a venture, Sir, that Jacob serv'd for;

A thing not in his power to bring to pass,
But sway'd, and fashion'd, by the hand of
heaven.

Was this inserted to make interest good?
Or is your gold and silver, ewes and rams?
Shy. I cannot tell; I make it breed as fast:-
But note me, signior.

Ant. 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;

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 congre-
gate,

On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift,
Which he calls interest: Cursed be my tribe,
If I forgive him!

Buss. Shylock, do you hear?

Shy. I am debating of my present store;
And, by the near guess of my memory,
I cannot instantly raise up the gross
Of full three thousand ducats: What of that?
Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe,
Will furnish me; But soft; How many months
Do you desire?-Rest you fair, good signior;
[To ANTONIO.
Your worship was the last man in our mouths.
Ant. Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor bor-
By taking, nor by giving of excess, [row,
Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend,
I'll break a custom :-Is he yet possess'd,t
How much you would?

Shy. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats.
Ant. And for three months.
Shy. I had forgot,-three months, you told

Shy. Three thousand ducats,~'tis a good round sum.

[rate. Three months from twelve, then let me see the Ant. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholden to

you?

Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft, In the Rialto you have rated me About my monies, and my usances:† Still have I borne it with a patient shrug; For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe: You call me-misbeliever, cut-throat dog, And 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 monies; You say so; You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cur Over your threshold; monies is your suit. What should I say to you? Should I not say, Hath a dog money? is it possible, A cur can lend three thousand ducats? or Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, With 'bated breath, and whispering humble. Say this,[ness, 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 monies.

Ant. 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 A breed for barren metal of his friend?) [take But lend it rather to thine enemy; Who, if he break, thou may'st with better face Exact the penalty.

Shy. Why, look you, how you storm! I would be friends with you, and have your love, [with, Forget the shames that you have stain'd me Supply your present wants, and take no doit

[me:

Ant. This were kindness.
Shy. This kindness will I show:-
Go with me to a notary, seal me there
Your single bond; and, in a merry sport,
If you repay me not on such a day,
In such a place, such sum, or 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.
Ant. Content, in faith; I'll seal to such a
bond,

And say, there is much kindness in the Jew.
Bass. You shall not seal to such a bond for
I'll rather dwell in my necessity. [me,
Ant. Why, fear not, man; I will not forfeit it;
Within these two months, that's a month before
This bond expires, I do expect return
Of thrice three times the value of this bond.
Shy. O father Abraham, what these Chris-
tians are;

Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect
The thoughts of others! Pray you, tell me this;
If he should break his day, what should I gain
By the exaction of the forfeiture?
A pound of man's flesh, taken from a man,
Is not so estimable, profitable neither,
As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say,
To buy his favour, I extend this friendship:
If he will take it, so; if not, adieu;
And, for my love, I pray you, wrong me not.

Ant. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond.
Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's;
Give him direction for this merry bond,
And I will go and purse the ducats straight;
See to my house, left in the fearful guard
Of an unthrifty knave; and presently
I will be with you.

[Exit. Ant. Hie thee, gentle Jew. [kind. This Hebrew will turn Christian; he grows Bass. I like not fair terms, and a villain's mind.

Ant. Come on: in this there can be no dismay, My ships come home a month before the day. [Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE 1.-Belmont.-A Room in PORTIA'S

House.

Flourish of Cornets. Enter the PRINCE OF MoROCCO, and his Train; PORTIA, NERISSA, and other of her Attendants.

Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion, The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun, To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred. Bring me the fairest creature northward born, Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles, And let us make incisiont for your love, To prove whose blood is reddest, his, or mine. I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine Hath fear'd; the valiant; by my love, I swear, The best-regarded virgins of our clime Have lov'd it too: I would not change this hue, Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen.

Por. In terms of choice I am not solely led By nice direction of a maiden's eyes: Besides the lottery of my destiny Bars me the right of voluntary choosing: But, if my father had not scanted me, And hedg'd me by his wit, to yield myself

you,

Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair,
As any comer I have look'd on yet,
For my affection.

Mor. Even for that I thank you:
Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets,
To try my fortune. By this scimitar,-
That slew the Sophy, and a Persian prince,
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,-
I would out-stare the sternest eyes that look,
Out-brave the heart most daring on the earth,
Pluck the young suckling 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 nand:
So is Alcides beaten by his page;
And so may 1, blind fortune leading me,
Miss that which one unworthier may attain,
And die with grieving.

Por. You must take your chance;
And either not attempt to choose at all,
Or swear, before you choose,-if you choose
Never to speak to lady afterward [wrong,
In way of marriage; therefore be advis'd.*
Mor. Nor will not; come, bring me unto my

chance.

SCENE II.-Venice.-A Street.

Enter LAUNCELOT GOBBO.

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

Enter old GOBBO, with a Basket. which is the way to master Jew's? Gob. Master, young man, you, I pray you;

Not precipitate.