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2
[Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SALANIO]
4
In sooth, I know not why I am so sad:
5
It wearies me; you say it wearies you;
6
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
7
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,
9
And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
10
That I have much ado to know myself.
12
Your mind is tossing on the ocean;
13
There, where your argosies with portly sail,
14
Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood,
15
Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea,
16
Do overpeer the petty traffickers,
17
That curtsy to them, do them reverence,
18
As they fly by them with their woven wings.
20
Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth,
21
The better part of my affections would
22
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
23
Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind,
24
Peering in maps for ports and piers and roads;
25
And every object that might make me fear
26
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt
29
My wind cooling my broth
30
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
31
What harm a wind too great at sea might do.
32
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
33
But I should think of shallows and of flats,
34
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand,
35
Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs
36
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church
37
And see the holy edifice of stone,
38
And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks,
39
Which touching but my gentle vessel's side,
40
Would scatter all her spices on the stream,
41
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks,
42
And, in a word, but even now worth this,
43
And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought
44
To think on this, and shall I lack the thought
45
That such a thing bechanced would make me sad?
46
But tell not me; I know, Antonio
47
Is sad to think upon his merchandise.
49
Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it,
50
My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,
51
Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
52
Upon the fortune of this present year:
53
Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad.
55
Why, then you are in love.
59
Not in love neither? Then let us say you are sad,
60
Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy
61
For you to laugh and leap and say you are merry,
62
Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus,
63
Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time:
64
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes
65
And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper,
66
And other of such vinegar aspect
67
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,
68
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.
69
[Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO]
71
Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman,
72
Gratiano and Lorenzo. Fare ye well:
73
We leave you now with better company.
75
I would have stay'd till I had made you merry,
76
If worthier friends had not prevented me.
78
Your worth is very dear in my regard.
79
I take it, your own business calls on you
80
And you embrace the occasion to depart.
82
Good morrow, my good lords.
84
Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say, when?
85
You grow exceeding strange: must it be so?
87
We'll make our leisures to attend on yours.
88
[Exeunt Salarino and Salanio]
90
My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio,
91
We two will leave you: but at dinner-time,
92
I pray you, have in mind where we must meet.
96
You look not well, Signior Antonio;
97
You have too much respect upon the world:
98
They lose it that do buy it with much care:
99
Believe me, you are marvellously changed.
101
I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano;
102
A stage where every man must play a part,
105
Let me play the fool:
106
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come,
107
And let my liver rather heat with wine
108
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
109
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,
110
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?
111
Sleep when he wakes and creep into the jaundice
112
By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio—
113
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks—
114
There are a sort of men whose visages
115
Do cream and mantle like a standing pond,
116
And do a wilful stillness entertain,
117
With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion
118
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit,
119
As who should say 'I am Sir Oracle,
120
And when I ope my lips let no dog bark!'
121
O my Antonio, I do know of these
122
That therefore only are reputed wise
123
For saying nothing; when, I am very sure,
124
If they should speak, would almost damn those ears,
125
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools.
126
I'll tell thee more of this another time:
127
But fish not, with this melancholy bait,
128
For this fool gudgeon, this opinion.
129
Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well awhile:
130
I'll end my exhortation after dinner.
132
Well, we will leave you then till dinner-time:
133
I must be one of these same dumb wise men,
134
For Gratiano never lets me speak.
136
Well, keep me company but two years moe,
137
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.
139
Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear.
141
Thanks, i' faith, for silence is only commendable
142
In a neat's tongue dried and a maid not vendible.
143
[Exeunt GRATIANO and LORENZO]
145
Is that any thing now?
147
Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more
148
than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two
149
grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you
150
shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you
151
have them, they are not worth the search.
153
Well, tell me now what lady is the same
154
To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,
155
That you to-day promised to tell me of?
157
'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
158
How much I have disabled mine estate,
159
By something showing a more swelling port
160
Than my faint means would grant continuance:
161
Nor do I now make moan to be abridged
162
From such a noble rate; but my chief care
163
Is to come fairly off from the great debts
164
Wherein my time something too prodigal
165
Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio,
166
I owe the most, in money and in love,
167
And from your love I have a warranty
168
To unburden all my plots and purposes
169
How to get clear of all the debts I owe.
171
I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it;
172
And if it stand, as you yourself still do,
173
Within the eye of honour, be assured,
174
My purse, my person, my extremest means,
175
Lie all unlock'd to your occasions.
177
In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft,
178
I shot his fellow of the self-same flight
179
The self-same way with more advised watch,
180
To find the other forth, and by adventuring both
181
I oft found both: I urge this childhood proof,
182
Because what follows is pure innocence.
183
I owe you much, and, like a wilful youth,
184
That which I owe is lost; but if you please
185
To shoot another arrow that self way
186
Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,
187
As I will watch the aim, or to find both
188
Or bring your latter hazard back again
189
And thankfully rest debtor for the first.
191
You know me well, and herein spend but time
192
To wind about my love with circumstance;
193
And out of doubt you do me now more wrong
194
In making question of my uttermost
195
Than if you had made waste of all I have:
196
Then do but say to me what I should do
197
That in your knowledge may by me be done,
198
And I am prest unto it: therefore, speak.
200
In Belmont is a lady richly left;
201
And she is fair, and, fairer than that word,
202
Of wondrous virtues: sometimes from her eyes
203
I did receive fair speechless messages:
204
Her name is Portia, nothing undervalued
205
To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia:
206
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth,
207
For the four winds blow in from every coast
208
Renowned suitors, and her sunny locks
209
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece;
210
Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strand,
211
And many Jasons come in quest of her.
212
O my Antonio, had I but the means
213
To hold a rival place with one of them,
214
I have a mind presages me such thrift,
215
That I should questionless be fortunate!
217
Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea;
218
Neither have I money nor commodity
219
To raise a present sum: therefore go forth;
220
Try what my credit can in Venice do:
221
That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost,
222
To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia.
223
Go, presently inquire, and so will I,
224
Where money is, and I no question make
225
To have it of my trust or for my sake.
1
Belmont. A room in PORTIA’S house.
2
[Enter PORTIA and NERISSA]
4
By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of
7
You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in
8
the same abundance as your good fortunes are: and
9
yet, for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit
10
with too much as they that starve with nothing. It
11
is no mean happiness therefore, to be seated in the
12
mean: superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but
13
competency lives longer.
15
Good sentences and well pronounced.
17
They would be better, if well followed.
19
If to do were as easy as to know what were good to
20
do, chapels had been churches and poor men's
21
cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that
22
follows his own instructions: I can easier teach
23
twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the
24
twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may
25
devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps
26
o'er a cold decree: such a hare is madness the
27
youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the
28
cripple. But this reasoning is not in the fashion to
29
choose me a husband. O me, the word 'choose!' I may
30
neither choose whom I would nor refuse whom I
31
dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curbed
32
by the will of a dead father. Is it not hard,
33
Nerissa, that I cannot choose one nor refuse none?
35
Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men at their
36
death have good inspirations: therefore the lottery,
37
that he hath devised in these three chests of gold,
38
silver and lead, whereof who chooses his meaning
39
chooses you, will, no doubt, never be chosen by any
40
rightly but one who shall rightly love. But what
41
warmth is there in your affection towards any of
42
these princely suitors that are already come?
44
I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou namest
45
them, I will describe them; and, according to my
46
description, level at my affection.
48
First, there is the Neapolitan prince.
50
Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but
51
talk of his horse; and he makes it a great
52
appropriation to his own good parts, that he can
53
shoe him himself. I am much afeard my lady his
54
mother played false with a smith.
56
Then there is the County Palatine.
58
He doth nothing but frown, as who should say 'If you
59
will not have me, choose:' he hears merry tales and
60
smiles not: I fear he will prove the weeping
61
philosopher when he grows old, being so full of
62
unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had rather be
63
married to a death's-head with a bone in his mouth
64
than to either of these. God defend me from these
67
How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon?
69
God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man.
70
In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker: but,
71
he! why, he hath a horse better than the
72
Neapolitan's, a better bad habit of frowning than
73
the Count Palatine; he is every man in no man; if a
74
throstle sing, he falls straight a capering: he will
75
fence with his own shadow: if I should marry him, I
76
should marry twenty husbands. If he would despise me
77
I would forgive him, for if he love me to madness, I
78
shall never requite him.
80
What say you, then, to Falconbridge, the young baron
83
You know I say nothing to him, for he understands
84
not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latin, French,
85
nor Italian, and you will come into the court and
86
swear that I have a poor pennyworth in the English.
87
He is a proper man's picture, but, alas, who can
88
converse with a dumb-show? How oddly he is suited!
89
I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round
90
hose in France, his bonnet in Germany and his
93
What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour?
95
That he hath a neighbourly charity in him, for he
96
borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman and
97
swore he would pay him again when he was able: I
98
think the Frenchman became his surety and sealed
101
How like you the young German, the Duke of Saxony's nephew?
103
Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober, and
104
most vilely in the afternoon, when he is drunk: when
105
he is best, he is a little worse than a man, and
106
when he is worst, he is little better than a beast:
107
and the worst fall that ever fell, I hope I shall
108
make shift to go without him.
110
If he should offer to choose, and choose the right
111
casket, you should refuse to perform your father's
112
will, if you should refuse to accept him.
114
Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, set a
115
deep glass of rhenish wine on the contrary casket,
116
for if the devil be within and that temptation
117
without, I know he will choose it. I will do any
118
thing, Nerissa, ere I'll be married to a sponge.
120
You need not fear, lady, the having any of these
121
lords: they have acquainted me with their
122
determinations; which is, indeed, to return to their
123
home and to trouble you with no more suit, unless
124
you may be won by some other sort than your father's
125
imposition depending on the caskets.
127
If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as
128
chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner
129
of my father's will. I am glad this parcel of wooers
130
are so reasonable, for there is not one among them
131
but I dote on his very absence, and I pray God grant
132
them a fair departure.
134
Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a
135
Venetian, a scholar and a soldier, that came hither
136
in company of the Marquis of Montferrat?
138
Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, he was so called.
140
True, madam: he, of all the men that ever my foolish
141
eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady.
143
I remember him well, and I remember him worthy of
145
[Enter a Serving-man]
148
The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take
149
their leave: and there is a forerunner come from a
150
fifth, the Prince of Morocco, who brings word the
151
prince his master will be here to-night.
153
If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good a
154
heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I should
155
be glad of his approach: if he have the condition
156
of a saint and the complexion of a devil, I had
157
rather he should shrive me than wive me. Come,
158
Nerissa. Sirrah, go before.
159
Whiles we shut the gates
160
upon one wooer, another knocks at the door.
1
Venice. A public place.
2
[Enter BASSANIO and SHYLOCK]
4
Three thousand ducats; well.
6
Ay, sir, for three months.
8
For three months; well.
10
For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound.
12
Antonio shall become bound; well.
14
May you stead me? will you pleasure me? shall I
17
Three thousand ducats for three months and Antonio bound.
21
Antonio is a good man.
23
Have you heard any imputation to the contrary?
25
Oh, no, no, no, no: my meaning in saying he is a
26
good man is to have you understand me that he is
27
sufficient. Yet his means are in supposition: he
28
hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the
29
Indies; I understand moreover, upon the Rialto, he
30
hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England, and
31
other ventures he hath, squandered abroad. But ships
32
are but boards, sailors but men: there be land-rats
33
and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves, I
34
mean pirates, and then there is the peril of waters,
35
winds and rocks. The man is, notwithstanding,
36
sufficient. Three thousand ducats; I think I may
41
I will be assured I may; and, that I may be assured,
42
I will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio?
44
If it please you to dine with us.
46
Yes, to smell pork; to eat of the habitation which
47
your prophet the Nazarite conjured the devil into. I
48
will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you,
49
walk with you, and so following, but I will not eat
50
with you, drink with you, nor pray with you. What
51
news on the Rialto? Who is he comes here?
54
This is Signior Antonio.
56
[Aside]How like a fawning publican he looks!
57
I hate him for he is a Christian,
58
But more for that in low simplicity
59
He lends out money gratis and brings down
60
The rate of usance here with us in Venice.
61
If I can catch him once upon the hip,
62
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
63
He hates our sacred nation, and he rails,
64
Even there where merchants most do congregate,
65
On me, my bargains and my well-won thrift,
66
Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe,
71
I am debating of my present store,
72
And, by the near guess of my memory,
73
I cannot instantly raise up the gross
74
Of full three thousand ducats. What of that?
75
Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe,
76
Will furnish me. But soft! how many months
79
Rest you fair, good signior;
80
Your worship was the last man in our mouths.
82
Shylock, although I neither lend nor borrow
83
By taking nor by giving of excess,
84
Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend,
85
I'll break a custom. Is he yet possess'd
88
Ay, ay, three thousand ducats.
92
I had forgot; three months; you told me so.
93
Well then, your bond; and let me see; but hear you;
94
Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow
99
When Jacob grazed his uncle Laban's sheep—
100
This Jacob from our holy Abram was,
101
As his wise mother wrought in his behalf,
102
The third possessor; ay, he was the third—
104
And what of him? did he take interest?
106
No, not take interest, not, as you would say,
107
Directly interest: mark what Jacob did.
108
When Laban and himself were compromised
109
That all the eanlings which were streak'd and pied
110
Should fall as Jacob's hire, the ewes, being rank,
111
In the end of autumn turned to the rams,
112
And, when the work of generation was
113
Between these woolly breeders in the act,
114
The skilful shepherd peel'd me certain wands,
115
And, in the doing of the deed of kind,
116
He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes,
117
Who then conceiving did in eaning time
118
Fall parti-colour'd lambs, and those were Jacob's.
119
This was a way to thrive, and he was blest:
120
And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not.
122
This was a venture, sir, that Jacob served for;
123
A thing not in his power to bring to pass,
124
But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heaven.
125
Was this inserted to make interest good?
126
Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams?
128
I cannot tell; I make it breed as fast:
129
But note me, signior.
131
Mark you this, Bassanio,
132
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.
133
An evil soul producing holy witness
134
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek,
135
A goodly apple rotten at the heart:
136
O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!
138
Three thousand ducats; 'tis a good round sum.
139
Three months from twelve; then, let me see; the rate—
141
Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you?
143
Signior Antonio, many a time and oft
144
In the Rialto you have rated me
145
About my moneys and my usances:
146
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug,
147
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe.
148
You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog,
149
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine,
150
And all for use of that which is mine own.
151
Well then, it now appears you need my help:
152
Go to, then; you come to me, and you say
153
'Shylock, we would have moneys:' you say so;
154
You, that did void your rheum upon my beard
155
And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur
156
Over your threshold: moneys is your suit
157
What should I say to you? Should I not say
158
'Hath a dog money? is it possible
159
A cur can lend three thousand ducats?' Or
160
Shall I bend low and in a bondman's key,
161
With bated breath and whispering humbleness, Say this;
162
'Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last;
163
You spurn'd me such a day; another time
164
You call'd me dog; and for these courtesies
165
I'll lend you thus much moneys'?
167
I am as like to call thee so again,
168
To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too.
169
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not
170
As to thy friends; for when did friendship take
171
A breed for barren metal of his friend?
172
But lend it rather to thine enemy,
173
Who, if he break, thou mayst with better face
176
Why, look you, how you storm!
177
I would be friends with you and have your love,
178
Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with,
179
Supply your present wants and take no doit
180
Of usance for my moneys, and you'll not hear me:
181
This is kind I offer.
185
This kindness will I show.
186
Go with me to a notary, seal me there
187
Your single bond; and, in a merry sport,
188
If you repay me not on such a day,
189
In such a place, such sum or sums as are
190
Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit
191
Be nominated for an equal pound
192
Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken
193
In what part of your body pleaseth me.
195
Content, i' faith: I'll seal to such a bond
196
And say there is much kindness in the Jew.
198
You shall not seal to such a bond for me:
199
I'll rather dwell in my necessity.
201
Why, fear not, man; I will not forfeit it:
202
Within these two months, that's a month before
203
This bond expires, I do expect return
204
Of thrice three times the value of this bond.
206
O father Abram, what these Christians are,
207
Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect
208
The thoughts of others! Pray you, tell me this;
209
If he should break his day, what should I gain
210
By the exaction of the forfeiture?
211
A pound of man's flesh taken from a man
212
Is not so estimable, profitable neither,
213
As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say,
214
To buy his favour, I extend this friendship:
215
If he will take it, so; if not, adieu;
216
And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not.
218
Yes Shylock, I will seal unto this bond.
220
Then meet me forthwith at the notary's;
221
Give him direction for this merry bond,
222
And I will go and purse the ducats straight,
223
See to my house, left in the fearful guard
224
Of an unthrifty knave, and presently
227
Hie thee, gentle Jew.
229
The Hebrew will turn Christian: he grows kind.
231
I like not fair terms and a villain's mind.
233
Come on: in this there can be no dismay;
234
My ships come home a month before the day.
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