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1. Act I, Scene 1
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0
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Venice. A street.
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1
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[Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SALANIO]
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2
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Antonio.
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3
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In sooth, I know not why I am so sad:
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4
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It wearies me; you say it wearies you;
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5
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But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
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6
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What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,
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7
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I am to learn;
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8
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And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
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That I have much ado to know myself.
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Salarino.
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Your mind is tossing on the ocean;
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12
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There, where your argosies with portly sail,
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Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood,
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Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea,
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Do overpeer the petty traffickers,
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That curtsy to them, do them reverence,
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As they fly by them with their woven wings.
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Salanio.
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Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth,
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The better part of my affections would
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Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
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Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind,
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Peering in maps for ports and piers and roads;
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And every object that might make me fear
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Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt
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Would make me sad.
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Salarino.
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My wind cooling my broth
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Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
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What harm a wind too great at sea might do.
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I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
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But I should think of shallows and of flats,
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And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand,
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Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs
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To kiss her burial. Should I go to church
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And see the holy edifice of stone,
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And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks,
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Which touching but my gentle vessel's side,
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Would scatter all her spices on the stream,
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Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks,
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And, in a word, but even now worth this,
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And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought
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To think on this, and shall I lack the thought
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That such a thing bechanced would make me sad?
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But tell not me; I know, Antonio
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Is sad to think upon his merchandise.
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Antonio.
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Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it,
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My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,
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Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
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Upon the fortune of this present year:
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Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad.
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Salarino.
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Why, then you are in love.
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Antonio.
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Fie, fie!
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Salarino.
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Not in love neither? Then let us say you are sad,
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Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy
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For you to laugh and leap and say you are merry,
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Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus,
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Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time:
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Some that will evermore peep through their eyes
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And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper,
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And other of such vinegar aspect
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That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,
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Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.
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[Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO]
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69
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Salanio.
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70
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Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman,
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Gratiano and Lorenzo. Fare ye well:
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We leave you now with better company.
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Salarino.
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I would have stay'd till I had made you merry,
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If worthier friends had not prevented me.
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Antonio.
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Your worth is very dear in my regard.
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I take it, your own business calls on you
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And you embrace the occasion to depart.
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Salarino.
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Good morrow, my good lords.
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Bassanio.
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Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say, when?
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84
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You grow exceeding strange: must it be so?
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Salarino.
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86
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We'll make our leisures to attend on yours.
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[Exeunt Salarino and Salanio]
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Lorenzo.
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My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio,
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We two will leave you: but at dinner-time,
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I pray you, have in mind where we must meet.
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Bassanio.
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93
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I will not fail you.
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94
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Gratiano.
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95
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You look not well, Signior Antonio;
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96
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You have too much respect upon the world:
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They lose it that do buy it with much care:
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Believe me, you are marvellously changed.
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Antonio.
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I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano;
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101
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A stage where every man must play a part,
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102
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And mine a sad one.
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103
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Gratiano.
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104
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Let me play the fool:
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105
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With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come,
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106
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And let my liver rather heat with wine
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107
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Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
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108
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Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,
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109
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Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?
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110
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Sleep when he wakes and creep into the jaundice
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111
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By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio—
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I love thee, and it is my love that speaks—
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There are a sort of men whose visages
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114
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Do cream and mantle like a standing pond,
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115
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And do a wilful stillness entertain,
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With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion
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Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit,
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As who should say 'I am Sir Oracle,
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And when I ope my lips let no dog bark!'
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120
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O my Antonio, I do know of these
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121
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That therefore only are reputed wise
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For saying nothing; when, I am very sure,
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If they should speak, would almost damn those ears,
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Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools.
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I'll tell thee more of this another time:
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But fish not, with this melancholy bait,
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For this fool gudgeon, this opinion.
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Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well awhile:
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I'll end my exhortation after dinner.
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Lorenzo.
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Well, we will leave you then till dinner-time:
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I must be one of these same dumb wise men,
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For Gratiano never lets me speak.
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Gratiano.
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135
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Well, keep me company but two years moe,
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Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.
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Antonio.
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Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear.
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Gratiano.
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Thanks, i' faith, for silence is only commendable
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In a neat's tongue dried and a maid not vendible.
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[Exeunt GRATIANO and LORENZO]
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Antonio.
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Is that any thing now?
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Bassanio.
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Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more
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147
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than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two
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148
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grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you
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shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you
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have them, they are not worth the search.
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Antonio.
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Well, tell me now what lady is the same
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To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,
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That you to-day promised to tell me of?
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Bassanio.
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156
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'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
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157
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How much I have disabled mine estate,
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158
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By something showing a more swelling port
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Than my faint means would grant continuance:
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160
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Nor do I now make moan to be abridged
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From such a noble rate; but my chief care
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162
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Is to come fairly off from the great debts
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163
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Wherein my time something too prodigal
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164
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Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio,
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I owe the most, in money and in love,
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166
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And from your love I have a warranty
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167
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To unburden all my plots and purposes
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168
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How to get clear of all the debts I owe.
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Antonio.
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170
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I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it;
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And if it stand, as you yourself still do,
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172
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Within the eye of honour, be assured,
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My purse, my person, my extremest means,
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Lie all unlock'd to your occasions.
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Bassanio.
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176
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In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft,
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I shot his fellow of the self-same flight
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178
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The self-same way with more advised watch,
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To find the other forth, and by adventuring both
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I oft found both: I urge this childhood proof,
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Because what follows is pure innocence.
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I owe you much, and, like a wilful youth,
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183
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That which I owe is lost; but if you please
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184
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To shoot another arrow that self way
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185
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Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,
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186
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As I will watch the aim, or to find both
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Or bring your latter hazard back again
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And thankfully rest debtor for the first.
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Antonio.
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You know me well, and herein spend but time
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191
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To wind about my love with circumstance;
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And out of doubt you do me now more wrong
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In making question of my uttermost
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Than if you had made waste of all I have:
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Then do but say to me what I should do
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That in your knowledge may by me be done,
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197
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And I am prest unto it: therefore, speak.
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198
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Bassanio.
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199
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In Belmont is a lady richly left;
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And she is fair, and, fairer than that word,
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201
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Of wondrous virtues: sometimes from her eyes
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202
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I did receive fair speechless messages:
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Her name is Portia, nothing undervalued
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To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia:
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Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth,
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206
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For the four winds blow in from every coast
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207
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Renowned suitors, and her sunny locks
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Hang on her temples like a golden fleece;
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Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strand,
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And many Jasons come in quest of her.
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O my Antonio, had I but the means
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To hold a rival place with one of them,
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I have a mind presages me such thrift,
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That I should questionless be fortunate!
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Antonio.
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216
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Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea;
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Neither have I money nor commodity
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To raise a present sum: therefore go forth;
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Try what my credit can in Venice do:
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That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost,
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To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia.
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222
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Go, presently inquire, and so will I,
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223
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Where money is, and I no question make
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To have it of my trust or for my sake.
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225
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[Exeunt]
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2. Act I, Scene 2
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0
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Belmont. A room in PORTIA’S house.
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1
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[Enter PORTIA and NERISSA]
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2
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Portia.
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3
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By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of
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this great world.
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Nerissa.
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6
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You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in
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7
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the same abundance as your good fortunes are: and
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8
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yet, for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit
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with too much as they that starve with nothing. It
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is no mean happiness therefore, to be seated in the
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mean: superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but
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competency lives longer.
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Portia.
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Good sentences and well pronounced.
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Nerissa.
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They would be better, if well followed.
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Portia.
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If to do were as easy as to know what were good to
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do, chapels had been churches and poor men's
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cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that
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follows his own instructions: I can easier teach
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twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the
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twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may
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devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps
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o'er a cold decree: such a hare is madness the
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youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the
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cripple. But this reasoning is not in the fashion to
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choose me a husband. O me, the word 'choose!' I may
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neither choose whom I would nor refuse whom I
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dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curbed
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by the will of a dead father. Is it not hard,
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32
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Nerissa, that I cannot choose one nor refuse none?
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Nerissa.
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34
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Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men at their
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death have good inspirations: therefore the lottery,
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36
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that he hath devised in these three chests of gold,
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silver and lead, whereof who chooses his meaning
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chooses you, will, no doubt, never be chosen by any
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39
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rightly but one who shall rightly love. But what
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40
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warmth is there in your affection towards any of
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41
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these princely suitors that are already come?
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42
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Portia.
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43
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I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou namest
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44
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them, I will describe them; and, according to my
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45
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description, level at my affection.
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46
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Nerissa.
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47
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First, there is the Neapolitan prince.
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48
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Portia.
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49
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Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but
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50
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talk of his horse; and he makes it a great
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51
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appropriation to his own good parts, that he can
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52
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shoe him himself. I am much afeard my lady his
|
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53
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|
|
mother played false with a smith.
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54
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|
Nerissa.
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55
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|
|
Then there is the County Palatine.
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|
56
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Portia.
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57
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He doth nothing but frown, as who should say 'If you
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58
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will not have me, choose:' he hears merry tales and
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59
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smiles not: I fear he will prove the weeping
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60
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philosopher when he grows old, being so full of
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61
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|
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unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had rather be
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62
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married to a death's-head with a bone in his mouth
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63
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than to either of these. God defend me from these
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|
64
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|
two!
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65
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Nerissa.
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66
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|
|
How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon?
|
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67
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Portia.
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68
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God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man.
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69
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In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker: but,
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70
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|
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he! why, he hath a horse better than the
|
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71
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|
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Neapolitan's, a better bad habit of frowning than
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72
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|
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the Count Palatine; he is every man in no man; if a
|
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73
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|
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throstle sing, he falls straight a capering: he will
|
|
74
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|
|
fence with his own shadow: if I should marry him, I
|
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75
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|
|
should marry twenty husbands. If he would despise me
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76
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|
I would forgive him, for if he love me to madness, I
|
|
77
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|
|
shall never requite him.
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|
78
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|
Nerissa.
|
|
79
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|
|
What say you, then, to Falconbridge, the young baron
|
|
80
|
|
|
of England?
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|
81
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|
Portia.
|
|
82
|
|
|
You know I say nothing to him, for he understands
|
|
83
|
|
|
not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latin, French,
|
|
84
|
|
|
nor Italian, and you will come into the court and
|
|
85
|
|
|
swear that I have a poor pennyworth in the English.
|
|
86
|
|
|
He is a proper man's picture, but, alas, who can
|
|
87
|
|
|
converse with a dumb-show? How oddly he is suited!
|
|
88
|
|
|
I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round
|
|
89
|
|
|
hose in France, his bonnet in Germany and his
|
|
90
|
|
|
behavior every where.
|
|
91
|
|
|
Nerissa.
|
|
92
|
|
|
What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour?
|
|
93
|
|
|
Portia.
|
|
94
|
|
|
That he hath a neighbourly charity in him, for he
|
|
95
|
|
|
borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman and
|
|
96
|
|
|
swore he would pay him again when he was able: I
|
|
97
|
|
|
think the Frenchman became his surety and sealed
|
|
98
|
|
|
under for another.
|
|
99
|
|
|
Nerissa.
|
|
100
|
|
|
How like you the young German, the Duke of Saxony's nephew?
|
|
101
|
|
|
Portia.
|
|
102
|
|
|
Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober, and
|
|
103
|
|
|
most vilely in the afternoon, when he is drunk: when
|
|
104
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|
|
he is best, he is a little worse than a man, and
|
|
105
|
|
|
when he is worst, he is little better than a beast:
|
|
106
|
|
|
and the worst fall that ever fell, I hope I shall
|
|
107
|
|
|
make shift to go without him.
|
|
108
|
|
|
Nerissa.
|
|
109
|
|
|
If he should offer to choose, and choose the right
|
|
110
|
|
|
casket, you should refuse to perform your father's
|
|
111
|
|
|
will, if you should refuse to accept him.
|
|
112
|
|
|
Portia.
|
|
113
|
|
|
Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, set a
|
|
114
|
|
|
deep glass of rhenish wine on the contrary casket,
|
|
115
|
|
|
for if the devil be within and that temptation
|
|
116
|
|
|
without, I know he will choose it. I will do any
|
|
117
|
|
|
thing, Nerissa, ere I'll be married to a sponge.
|
|
118
|
|
|
Nerissa.
|
|
119
|
|
|
You need not fear, lady, the having any of these
|
|
120
|
|
|
lords: they have acquainted me with their
|
|
121
|
|
|
determinations; which is, indeed, to return to their
|
|
122
|
|
|
home and to trouble you with no more suit, unless
|
|
123
|
|
|
you may be won by some other sort than your father's
|
|
124
|
|
|
imposition depending on the caskets.
|
|
125
|
|
|
Portia.
|
|
126
|
|
|
If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as
|
|
127
|
|
|
chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner
|
|
128
|
|
|
of my father's will. I am glad this parcel of wooers
|
|
129
|
|
|
are so reasonable, for there is not one among them
|
|
130
|
|
|
but I dote on his very absence, and I pray God grant
|
|
131
|
|
|
them a fair departure.
|
|
132
|
|
|
Nerissa.
|
|
133
|
|
|
Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a
|
|
134
|
|
|
Venetian, a scholar and a soldier, that came hither
|
|
135
|
|
|
in company of the Marquis of Montferrat?
|
|
136
|
|
|
Portia.
|
|
137
|
|
|
Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, he was so called.
|
|
138
|
|
|
Nerissa.
|
|
139
|
|
|
True, madam: he, of all the men that ever my foolish
|
|
140
|
|
|
eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady.
|
|
141
|
|
|
Portia.
|
|
142
|
|
|
I remember him well, and I remember him worthy of
|
|
143
|
|
|
thy praise.
|
|
144
|
|
|
[Enter a Serving-man]
|
|
145
|
|
|
How now! what news?
|
|
146
|
|
|
Servant.
|
|
147
|
|
|
The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take
|
|
148
|
|
|
their leave: and there is a forerunner come from a
|
|
149
|
|
|
fifth, the Prince of Morocco, who brings word the
|
|
150
|
|
|
prince his master will be here to-night.
|
|
151
|
|
|
Portia.
|
|
152
|
|
|
If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good a
|
|
153
|
|
|
heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I should
|
|
154
|
|
|
be glad of his approach: if he have the condition
|
|
155
|
|
|
of a saint and the complexion of a devil, I had
|
|
156
|
|
|
rather he should shrive me than wive me. Come,
|
|
157
|
|
|
Nerissa. Sirrah, go before.
|
|
158
|
|
|
Whiles we shut the gates
|
|
159
|
|
|
upon one wooer, another knocks at the door.
|
| |
|
160
|
|
|
[Exeunt]
|
| |
| |
|
3. Act I, Scene 3
|
|
0
|
|
|
Venice. A public place.
|
| |
|
1
|
|
|
[Enter BASSANIO and SHYLOCK]
|
| |
|
2
|
|
|
Shylock.
|
|
3
|
|
|
Three thousand ducats; well.
|
|
4
|
|
|
Bassanio.
|
|
5
|
|
|
Ay, sir, for three months.
|
|
6
|
|
|
Shylock.
|
|
7
|
|
|
For three months; well.
|
|
8
|
|
|
Bassanio.
|
|
9
|
|
|
For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound.
|
|
10
|
|
|
Shylock.
|
|
11
|
|
|
Antonio shall become bound; well.
|
|
12
|
|
|
Bassanio.
|
|
13
|
|
|
May you stead me? will you pleasure me? shall I
|
|
14
|
|
|
know your answer?
|
|
15
|
|
|
Shylock.
|
|
16
|
|
|
Three thousand ducats for three months and Antonio bound.
|
|
17
|
|
|
Bassanio.
|
|
18
|
|
|
Your answer to that.
|
|
19
|
|
|
Shylock.
|
|
20
|
|
|
Antonio is a good man.
|
|
21
|
|
|
Bassanio.
|
|
22
|
|
|
Have you heard any imputation to the contrary?
|
|
23
|
|
|
Shylock.
|
|
24
|
|
|
Oh, no, no, no, no: my meaning in saying he is a
|
|
25
|
|
|
good man is to have you understand me that he is
|
|
26
|
|
|
sufficient. Yet his means are in supposition: he
|
|
27
|
|
|
hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the
|
|
28
|
|
|
Indies; I understand moreover, upon the Rialto, he
|
|
29
|
|
|
hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England, and
|
|
30
|
|
|
other ventures he hath, squandered abroad. But ships
|
|
31
|
|
|
are but boards, sailors but men: there be land-rats
|
|
32
|
|
|
and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves, I
|
|
33
|
|
|
mean pirates, and then there is the peril of waters,
|
|
34
|
|
|
winds and rocks. The man is, notwithstanding,
|
|
35
|
|
|
sufficient. Three thousand ducats; I think I may
|
|
36
|
|
|
take his bond.
|
|
37
|
|
|
Bassanio.
|
|
38
|
|
|
Be assured you may.
|
|
39
|
|
|
Shylock.
|
|
40
|
|
|
I will be assured I may; and, that I may be assured,
|
|
41
|
|
|
I will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio?
|
|
42
|
|
|
Bassanio.
|
|
43
|
|
|
If it please you to dine with us.
|
|
44
|
|
|
Shylock.
|
|
45
|
|
|
Yes, to smell pork; to eat of the habitation which
|
|
46
|
|
|
your prophet the Nazarite conjured the devil into. I
|
|
47
|
|
|
will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you,
|
|
48
|
|
|
walk with you, and so following, but I will not eat
|
|
49
|
|
|
with you, drink with you, nor pray with you. What
|
|
50
|
|
|
news on the Rialto? Who is he comes here?
|
| |
|
51
|
|
|
[Enter ANTONIO]
|
| |
|
52
|
|
|
Bassanio.
|
|
53
|
|
|
This is Signior Antonio.
|
|
54
|
|
|
Shylock.
|
|
55
|
|
|
[Aside]How like a fawning publican he looks!
|
|
56
|
|
|
I hate him for he is a Christian,
|
|
57
|
|
|
But more for that in low simplicity
|
|
58
|
|
|
He lends out money gratis and brings down
|
|
59
|
|
|
The rate of usance here with us in Venice.
|
|
60
|
|
|
If I can catch him once upon the hip,
|
|
61
|
|
|
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
|
|
62
|
|
|
He hates our sacred nation, and he rails,
|
|
63
|
|
|
Even there where merchants most do congregate,
|
|
64
|
|
|
On me, my bargains and my well-won thrift,
|
|
65
|
|
|
Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe,
|
|
66
|
|
|
If I forgive him!
|
|
67
|
|
|
Bassanio.
|
|
68
|
|
|
Shylock, do you hear?
|
|
69
|
|
|
Shylock.
|
|
70
|
|
|
I am debating of my present store,
|
|
71
|
|
|
And, by the near guess of my memory,
|
|
72
|
|
|
I cannot instantly raise up the gross
|
|
73
|
|
|
Of full three thousand ducats. What of that?
|
|
74
|
|
|
Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe,
|
|
75
|
|
|
Will furnish me. But soft! how many months
|
|
76
|
|
|
Do you desire?
|
|
77
|
|
|
[To ANTONIO]
|
|
78
|
|
|
Rest you fair, good signior;
|
|
79
|
|
|
Your worship was the last man in our mouths.
|
|
80
|
|
|
Antonio.
|
|
81
|
|
|
Shylock, although I neither lend nor borrow
|
|
82
|
|
|
By taking nor by giving of excess,
|
|
83
|
|
|
Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend,
|
|
84
|
|
|
I'll break a custom. Is he yet possess'd
|
|
85
|
|
|
How much ye would?
|
|
86
|
|
|
Shylock.
|
|
87
|
|
|
Ay, ay, three thousand ducats.
|
|
88
|
|
|
Antonio.
|
|
89
|
|
|
And for three months.
|
|
90
|
|
|
Shylock.
|
|
91
|
|
|
I had forgot; three months; you told me so.
|
|
92
|
|
|
Well then, your bond; and let me see; but hear you;
|
|
93
|
|
|
Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow
|
|
94
|
|
|
Upon advantage.
|
|
95
|
|
|
Antonio.
|
|
96
|
|
|
I do never use it.
|
|
97
|
|
|
Shylock.
|
|
98
|
|
|
When Jacob grazed his uncle Laban's sheep—
|
|
99
|
|
|
This Jacob from our holy Abram was,
|
|
100
|
|
|
As his wise mother wrought in his behalf,
|
|
101
|
|
|
The third possessor; ay, he was the third—
|
|
102
|
|
|
Antonio.
|
|
103
|
|
|
And what of him? did he take interest?
|
|
104
|
|
|
Shylock.
|
|
105
|
|
|
No, not take interest, not, as you would say,
|
|
106
|
|
|
Directly interest: mark what Jacob did.
|
|
107
|
|
|
When Laban and himself were compromised
|
|
108
|
|
|
That all the eanlings which were streak'd and pied
|
|
109
|
|
|
Should fall as Jacob's hire, the ewes, being rank,
|
|
110
|
|
|
In the end of autumn turned to the rams,
|
|
111
|
|
|
And, when the work of generation was
|
|
112
|
|
|
Between these woolly breeders in the act,
|
|
113
|
|
|
The skilful shepherd peel'd me certain wands,
|
|
114
|
|
|
And, in the doing of the deed of kind,
|
|
115
|
|
|
He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes,
|
|
116
|
|
|
Who then conceiving did in eaning time
|
|
117
|
|
|
Fall parti-colour'd lambs, and those were Jacob's.
|
|
118
|
|
|
This was a way to thrive, and he was blest:
|
|
119
|
|
|
And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not.
|
|
120
|
|
|
Antonio.
|
|
121
|
|
|
This was a venture, sir, that Jacob served for;
|
|
122
|
|
|
A thing not in his power to bring to pass,
|
|
123
|
|
|
But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heaven.
|
|
124
|
|
|
Was this inserted to make interest good?
|
|
125
|
|
|
Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams?
|
|
126
|
|
|
Shylock.
|
|
127
|
|
|
I cannot tell; I make it breed as fast:
|
|
128
|
|
|
But note me, signior.
|
|
129
|
|
|
Antonio.
|
|
130
|
|
|
Mark you this, Bassanio,
|
|
131
|
|
|
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.
|
|
132
|
|
|
An evil soul producing holy witness
|
|
133
|
|
|
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek,
|
|
134
|
|
|
A goodly apple rotten at the heart:
|
|
135
|
|
|
O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!
|
|
136
|
|
|
Shylock.
|
|
137
|
|
|
Three thousand ducats; 'tis a good round sum.
|
|
138
|
|
|
Three months from twelve; then, let me see; the rate—
|
|
139
|
|
|
Antonio.
|
|
140
|
|
|
Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you?
|
|
141
|
|
|
Shylock.
|
|
142
|
|
|
Signior Antonio, many a time and oft
|
|
143
|
|
|
In the Rialto you have rated me
|
|
144
|
|
|
About my moneys and my usances:
|
|
145
|
|
|
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug,
|
|
146
|
|
|
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe.
|
|
147
|
|
|
You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog,
|
|
148
|
|
|
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine,
|
|
149
|
|
|
And all for use of that which is mine own.
|
|
150
|
|
|
Well then, it now appears you need my help:
|
|
151
|
|
|
Go to, then; you come to me, and you say
|
|
152
|
|
|
'Shylock, we would have moneys:' you say so;
|
|
153
|
|
|
You, that did void your rheum upon my beard
|
|
154
|
|
|
And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur
|
|
155
|
|
|
Over your threshold: moneys is your suit
|
|
156
|
|
|
What should I say to you? Should I not say
|
|
157
|
|
|
'Hath a dog money? is it possible
|
|
158
|
|
|
A cur can lend three thousand ducats?' Or
|
|
159
|
|
|
Shall I bend low and in a bondman's key,
|
|
160
|
|
|
With bated breath and whispering humbleness, Say this;
|
|
161
|
|
|
'Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last;
|
|
162
|
|
|
You spurn'd me such a day; another time
|
|
163
|
|
|
You call'd me dog; and for these courtesies
|
|
164
|
|
|
I'll lend you thus much moneys'?
|
|
165
|
|
|
Antonio.
|
|
166
|
|
|
I am as like to call thee so again,
|
|
167
|
|
|
To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too.
|
|
168
|
|
|
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not
|
|
169
|
|
|
As to thy friends; for when did friendship take
|
|
170
|
|
|
A breed for barren metal of his friend?
|
|
171
|
|
|
But lend it rather to thine enemy,
|
|
172
|
|
|
Who, if he break, thou mayst with better face
|
|
173
|
|
|
Exact the penalty.
|
|
174
|
|
|
Shylock.
|
|
175
|
|
|
Why, look you, how you storm!
|
|
176
|
|
|
I would be friends with you and have your love,
|
|
177
|
|
|
Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with,
|
|
178
|
|
|
Supply your present wants and take no doit
|
|
179
|
|
|
Of usance for my moneys, and you'll not hear me:
|
|
180
|
|
|
This is kind I offer.
|
|
181
|
|
|
Bassanio.
|
|
182
|
|
|
This were kindness.
|
|
183
|
|
|
Shylock.
|
|
184
|
|
|
This kindness will I show.
|
|
185
|
|
|
Go with me to a notary, seal me there
|
|
186
|
|
|
Your single bond; and, in a merry sport,
|
|
187
|
|
|
If you repay me not on such a day,
|
|
188
|
|
|
In such a place, such sum or sums as are
|
|
189
|
|
|
Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit
|
|
190
|
|
|
Be nominated for an equal pound
|
|
191
|
|
|
Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken
|
|
192
|
|
|
In what part of your body pleaseth me.
|
|
193
|
|
|
Antonio.
|
|
194
|
|
|
Content, i' faith: I'll seal to such a bond
|
|
195
|
|
|
And say there is much kindness in the Jew.
|
|
196
|
|
|
Bassanio.
|
|
197
|
|
|
You shall not seal to such a bond for me:
|
|
198
|
|
|
I'll rather dwell in my necessity.
|
|
199
|
|
|
Antonio.
|
|
200
|
|
|
Why, fear not, man; I will not forfeit it:
|
|
201
|
|
|
Within these two months, that's a month before
|
|
202
|
|
|
This bond expires, I do expect return
|
|
203
|
|
|
Of thrice three times the value of this bond.
|
|
204
|
|
|
Shylock.
|
|
205
|
|
|
O father Abram, what these Christians are,
|
|
206
|
|
|
Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect
|
|
207
|
|
|
The thoughts of others! Pray you, tell me this;
|
|
208
|
|
|
If he should break his day, what should I gain
|
|
209
|
|
|
By the exaction of the forfeiture?
|
|
210
|
|
|
A pound of man's flesh taken from a man
|
|
211
|
|
|
Is not so estimable, profitable neither,
|
|
212
|
|
|
As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say,
|
|
213
|
|
|
To buy his favour, I extend this friendship:
|
|
214
|
|
|
If he will take it, so; if not, adieu;
|
|
215
|
|
|
And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not.
|
|
216
|
|
|
Antonio.
|
|
217
|
|
|
Yes Shylock, I will seal unto this bond.
|
|
218
|
|
|
Shylock.
|
|
219
|
|
|
Then meet me forthwith at the notary's;
|
|
220
|
|
|
Give him direction for this merry bond,
|
|
221
|
|
|
And I will go and purse the ducats straight,
|
|
222
|
|
|
See to my house, left in the fearful guard
|
|
223
|
|
|
Of an unthrifty knave, and presently
|
|
224
|
|
|
I will be with you.
|
|
225
|
|
|
Antonio.
|
|
226
|
|
|
Hie thee, gentle Jew.
|
|
227
|
|
|
[Exit Shylock]
|
|
228
|
|
|
The Hebrew will turn Christian: he grows kind.
|
|
229
|
|
|
Bassanio.
|
|
230
|
|
|
I like not fair terms and a villain's mind.
|
|
231
|
|
|
Antonio.
|
|
232
|
|
|
Come on: in this there can be no dismay;
|
|
233
|
|
|
My ships come home a month before the day.
|
| |
