Solarino.
Solarino.
Now, what news on the Ryalto?
Sal.
Why yet it lives there uncheck'd, that
Anthonio hath a ship of rich lading wreckt on the narrow
-- 190 --
seas; the Goodwins, I think, they call the place; a
very dangerous flat, and fatal, where the carcasses of
-- 191 --
many a tall ship lie bury'd, as they say, if my gossip,
Report, be an honest woman of her word.
Sola.
I would she were as lying a gossip in that, as
ever knapt ginger; or made her neighbours believe
she wept for the death of a third husband. But it is
true, without any slips of prolixity, or crossing the
plain highway of talk, that the good Anthonio, the
honest Anthonio—O that I had a title good enough to
keep his name company?
Sal.
Come, the full stop.
Sola.
Why, the end is, he hath lost a ship.
Sal.
I would it might prove the end of his losses.
Sola.
Let me say Amen, betimes, lest the devil cross
thy prayer; for here he comes, in the likeness of a Jew.
How now, Shylock, what news among the merchants?
Enter Shylock.
Shy.
You knew (none so well, none so well as you)
of my daughter's flight.
-- 192 --
Sal.
That's certain; I, for my part, knew the taylor
that made the wings she flew withal.
Sola.
And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird
was fledged; and then it is the complexion of them
all to leave the dam.
Shy.
She is damn'd for it.
Sal.
That's certain, if the devil may be her judge.
Shy.
My own flesh and blood to rebel!
Sola.
Out upon it, old carrion, rebels it, at these
years!
Shy.
I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood.
Sal.
There is more difference between thy flesh and
hers, than between jet and ivory; more between your
bloods, than there is between red wine and rhenish:
but tell us, do you hear whether Anthonio have had
any loss at sea, or no?
Shy.
There I have another bad match; a bankrupt,
a prodigal, who dares scarce shew his head on the
Ryalto; a beggar, that us'd to come so smugg upon the
mart! let him look to his bond; he was wont to call
me usurer; let him look to his bond; he was wont to
lend money for a christian courtesy; let him look to
his bond.
Sal.
Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not
take his flesh: what's that good for?
Shy.
To bait fish withal. If it will feed nothing
else, it will feed my revenge; he has disgrac'd me, and
hinder'd me of half a million, laught at my losses,
mockt at my gains, scorn'd my nation, thwarted my
bargains, cool'd my friends, heated mine enemies;
and what's his reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew
eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions,
senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food,
hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases,
heal'd by the same means, warm'd and cool'd
by the same winter and summer, as a christian is? If
you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do
we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? if
you wrong us, shall we not revenge? if we are like
you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a
-- 193 --
Jew wrong a christian, what is his humility? Revenge.
If a christian wrong a Jew, what should his
sufferance be, by christian example? why Revenge.
The villany you teach me, I will execute; and it
shall go hard, but I will better the instruction.* note
Enter Tubal.
Sola.
Here comes another of the tribe; a third
cannot be match'd, unless the devil himself turn Jew.
[Exeunt Sal. and Solar.
Shy.
How, now, Tubal, what news from Genoa?
hast thou found my daughter?
Tub.
I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot
find her.† note
Shy.
Why there, there, there, there! a diamond
gone cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort! the
curse never fell upon our nation, 'till now; I never
felt it, till now; two thousand ducats in that, and
other precious, precious jewels. I would my daughter
were dead at my foot, and the jewels in her ear! O,
would she were hears'd at my foot, and the ducats in
her cossin! No news of them; why so? And I know
not what's spent in the search: why, thou loss upon
loss! the thief gone with so much, and so much to
find the thief; and no satisfaction, no revenge, nor no
ill-luck stirring, but what lights o' my shoulders; no
sighs but o' my breathing, no tears but o' my shedding.
Tub.
Yes, other men have ill-luck, too; Anthonio,
as I heard in Genoa—
Shy.
What, what, what? ill-luck? ill-luck?
Tub.
Hath an argosie cast away, coming from Tripolis.
-- 194 --
Shy.
I thank God, I thank God; is it true? is it
true?
Tub.
I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped
the wreck.
Shy.
I thank thee, good Tubal; good news, good
news; ha, ha, where? in Genoa?
Tub.
Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, one
night, fourscore ducats.
Shy.
Thou stick'st a dagger in me; I shall never see
my gold again; fourscore ducats at a sitting! fourscore
ducats!
Tub.
There came divers of Anthonio's creditors in
my company to Venice, that swear he cannot chuse
but break.
Shy.
I am glad of it, I'll plague him, I'll torture
him; I am glad of it.
Tub.
One of them shewed me a ring, that he had
of your daughter, for a monkey.
Shy.
Out upon her! thou torturest me, Tubal; it
was my Turquoise, I had it of Leah when I was a batchelor;
I would not have given it for a wilderness of
monkies.
Tub.
But Anthonio is certainly undone.
Shy.
Nay, that's true, that's very true; go seek me
an officer, bespeak him a fortnight before. I will
have the heart of him, if he forfeit; for were he
out of Venice, I can make what merchandize I will.
Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue; go,
good Tubal; at our synagogue, Tubal.
[Exeunt.
Scene
SCENE, a grand Saloon in Portia's House.
Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, and Attendants.
The Caskets are set out.
Por.
I pray you, tarry; pause, a day or two,
Before you hazard; for in chusing wrong
I lose your company; therefore, forbear, a while,
There's something tells me (but it is not love)
I would not lose you; and, you know, yourself,
-- 195 --
Hate counsels not in such a quality.
I could teach you
How to chuse right, but I am then forsworn:
So will I never be; so you may miss me;
But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin,
That I had been forsworn.
Bass.
Let me chuse:
For as I am, I live upon the rack.
So let me to my fortune and the caskets.
Por.
Away, then! I am lockt in one of them:
If you do love me, you will find me out.
Nerissa, and the rest, stand all aloof,
Let musick sound, while he doth make his choice:
Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end,
Fading in musick.
[Music plays, and Bassanio goes to the caskets.
Bass.
So may the outward shews be least themselves:* note
The world is still deceiv'd with ornament.
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,
But being season'd with a gracious voice,
Obscures the show of evil? in religion,
What damned error, but some sober brow
Will bless it, and approve it with a text;
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?
There is no vice so simple, but assumes
Some mark of virtue on its outward parts.
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins,
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars;
Who inward searcht, have livers white as milk?† note
-- 196 --
Then, thou gaudy gold,
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee:
Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge,
'Tween man and man: but thou, thou meager lead,
Which rather threatnest, than doth promise aught,
Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence;
And here chuse I: joy be the consequence!
Por.
O love, be moderate, allay thy extasy;
In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess,
I feel too much thy blessing, make it less;
For fear I surfeit.
[Opening the leaden casket.
Bass.
What find I here?
Fair Portia's counterfeit! what demi-god
Hath come so near creation? move these eyes?
Or whether riding on the balls of mine,
Seem they in motion? here are sever'd lips
Parted with sugar breath; so sweet a bar
Should sunder such sweet friends: but her eyes—
How could he see to do them? having made one,
Methinks, it should have power to steal both his,
And leave itself unfinish'd. Here's the scrowl,
The continent and summary of my fortune.
You that chuse not by the view,
Chance as fair, and chuse as true:
Since this fortune falls to you,
Be content, and seek no new.
If you be well pleas'd with this,
And hold your fortune for your bliss,
Turn you where your lady is,
And claim her with a loving kiss.
A gentle scrowl; fair lady, by your leave;
[Kissing her.
-- 197 --
I come by note to give, and to receive.
As doubtful whether what I see be true,
Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratify'd, by you.
Por.
You see me, lord Bassanio, where I stand,
Such as I am; tho' for myself alone,
I would not be ambitious in my wish,
To wish myself much better; yet for you,
I would be trebled twenty times myself,
A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times
More rich; that, to stand high in your account,
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,
Exceed account; but the full sum of me
Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd:
Happy in this; she is not yet so old
But she may learn; more happy then in this,
She is not bred so dull but she can learn;
Happiest of all, is, that her gentle spirit
Commits itself to yours to be directed,
As from her lord, her governor, her king.
Myself, and what is mine, to you and yours,
Is now converted. But now I was the lord
Of this fair mansion, master of my servants,
Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now,
This house, these servants, and this same myself,
Are yours, my lord: I give them with this ring,
Which, when you part from, lose, or give away,
Let it presage the ruin of your love,
And be my vantage to exclaim on you.
Bass.
Madam, you have bereft me of all words;
But when this ring
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence;
O, then be bold to say, Bassanio's dead.
Ner.
My lord and lady, it is now our time,
That have stood by, and seen your wishes prosper,
To cry, great joy, good joy, my lord and lady!
Gra.
My lord Bassanio, and my gentle lady,
I wish you all the joy that you can wish;
For, I am sure, you can wish none from me;
And when your honours mean to solemnize
The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you,
Ev'n at that time, I may be married, too
-- 198 --
Bass.
With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.
Gra.
I thank your lordship, you have got me one.
My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours;
You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid;
You lov'd; I lov'd; for intermission
No more pertains to me, my lord, than you.
Your fortune stood upon the casket there;
And so did mine too, as the matter falls:
For wooing here, until I sweat again,
And swearing, till my very roof was dry,
With oaths of love; at last, if promise last,
I got a promise of this fair one here,
To have her love, provided that your fortune
Atchiev'd her mistress.
Por.
Is this true, Nerissa?
Ner.
Madam, it is, so you stand pleas'd withal.
Bass.
And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith?
Gra.
Yes, faith, my lord.
Bass.
Our feast shall be much honour'd in your marriage.
Gra.
We'll play with them, the first boy, for a thousand
ducats.
Ner.
What, and stake down?
Gra.
No, we shall ne'er win at that sport, and stake
down.
But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel?
What, and my old Venetian friend, Salanio?
Enter Lorenzo Jessica, and Salanio.
Bass.
Lorenzo and Salanio, welcome hither;
If that the youth of my new interest here,
Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave,
I bid my very friends and countrymen,
(Sweet Portia) welcome.
Por.
So do I, my lord; they are intirely welcome.
Lor.
I thank your honour; for my part, my lord,
My purpose was not to have seen you here;
But meeting with Salanio by the way,
He did intreat me, past all saying nay,
To come with him along.
-- 199 --
Sal.
I did, my lord.
And I have reason for't; Signior Anthonio
Commends him to you.
[Gives Bassanio a Letter.
Bass.
Ere I ope his letter,
I pray you tell me how my good friend doth.
Sal.
Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind;
Nor well, unless in mind; his letter there
Will shew you his estate
[Bassanio opens the Letter.
Gra.
Nerissa, cheer yon stranger: bid her welcome.
Your hand, Salanio; what's the news from Venice?
How doth that royal merchant, good Anthonio?
I know he will be glad of our success;
We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece.
Sal.
Would you had won the fleece that he hath lost!
Por.
There are some shrewd contents in yon same paper,
That steal the colour from Bassanio's cheek:
Some dear friend dead; else nothing in the world,
Could turn so much the constitution
Of any constant man. What, worse and worse!
With leave, Bassanio, I am half yourself,
And I must have the half of any thing,
That this same paper brings you.
Bass.
O sweet Portia?* note
Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words,
That ever blotted paper. Gentle lady,
When I did first impart my love to you,
I freely told you all the wealth I had
Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman;
And then I told you true; and yet, dear lady,
Rating myself at nothing, you shall see
How much I was a braggart: when I told you
My state was nothing, I should then have told you,
That I was worse than nothing. For, indeed,
I have engag'd myself to a dear friend,
Engag'd my friend to his mere enemy,
To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady,
-- 200 --
The paper, as the body of my friend;
And every word in it a gaping wound,
Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salanio?
Have all his ventures fail'd? What! not one hit?
From Tripolis, from Mexico, from England,
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India?
And not one vessel 'scap'd the dreadful touch,
Of merchant-marring rocks?
Sal.
Not one, my lord.
Besides, it should appear, that if he had
The present money to discharge the Jew,
He would not take it. Never did I know
A creature that did bear the shape of man,
So keen and greedy to confound a man.
He plies the duke at morning and at night,
And doth impeach the freedom of the state,
If they deny him justice. Twenty merchants,
The duke himself, and the magnificoes
Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him;
But none can drive him from the envious plea,
Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond.
Jes.
When I was with him I have heard him swear,
To Tubal and to Chus, his country-men,
That he would rather have Anthonio's flesh,
Than twenty times the value of the sum,
That he did owe him. And I know, my lord,
If law, authority, and pow'r deny not,
It will go hard with poor Anthonio.
Por.
Is it your dear friend, that is thus in trouble?
Bass.
The dearest friend to me, the kindest man,
And one, in whom
The ancient Roman honour more appears,
Than any that draws breath in Italy.
Por.
What sum owes he the Jew?
Bass.
For me, three thousand ducats.
Por.
What, no more?
Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond;
Double six thousand, and then treble that,
Before a friend of this description,
-- 201 --
Shall lose a hair, thro' my Bassanio's fault.* note
First, go with me to church, and call me wife,
And then away to Venice, to your friend:
For never shall you lie by Portia's side,
With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold
To pay the petty debt, twenty times over.
When it is paid, bring your true friend along;
My maid Nerissa, and myself, mean time,
Will live as maids and widows. Come, away!
For you shall hence upon your wedding-day.
Bid your friends welcome, shew a merry cheer;
Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear.
But let me hear the letter of your friend.
Bassanio reads.
Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all miscarried, and my
creditors grow cruel; my estate is very low, my bond to
the Jew is forfeit; and since, in paying it, it is impossible
I should live, all debts are cleared between you and me,
if I might but see you at my death; notwithstanding, use
your pleasure. If your love do not persuade you to come,
let not my letter.
Por.
O, love! dispatch all business, and be gone.
Bass.
Since I have your good leave to go away.
I will make haste; but 'till I come again,
No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay;
No rest be interposer 'twixt us twain.
[Exeunt.
Scene
SCENE, changes to a Street in Venice.
Enter Shylock, Solarino, Anthonio, and the Goaler.
Shy.
Gaoler, look to him: tell not me of mercy.
This is the fool that lent out money gratis.
Gaoler, look to him.
-- 202 --
Anth.
Hear me yet, good Shylock.
Shy.
I'll have my bond; speak not against my bond;* note
I've sworn an oath, that I will have my bond.
Thou call'dst me dog, before thou hadst a cause;
But since I am a dog, beware my fangs:
The duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder,
Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond
To come abroad with him, at his request.
Anth.
I pray thee, hear me speak.
Shy.
I'll have my bond; I will not hear thee speak:
I'll have my bond; and therefore, speak no more.
I'll not be made a soft and dull-ey'd fool,
To shake the head, relent, and sigh and yield,
To christian intercessors. Follow not;
I'll have no speaking; I will have my bond.
[Exit Shylock.
Sola.
It is the most impenetrable cur,
That ever kept with men.
Anth.
Let him alone.
I'll follow him no more with bootless pray'rs.
He seeks my life; his reason well I know.
I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures,
Many that have at times made moan to me;
Therefore, he hates me.
Sola.
I am sure the duke
Will never grant this forfeiture to hold.
Anth.
The duke cannot deny the course of law;
For the commodity that strangers have
With us in Venice, if it be deny'd,
Will much impeach the justice of the state;
Since that the trade and profit of the city,
Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go,
These griefs and losses, have so 'bared me,
That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh,
To-morrow, to my bloody creditor.
-- 203 --
Well, gaoler, on; pray Heav'n Bassanio come
To see me pay his debt, and then I care not!
[Exeunt.
Scene
SCENE, a Chamber in Portia's House.
Enter Portia, Nerissa, Lorenzo, Jessica, and Balthazar.
Lor.
Madam, although I speak it in your presence,
You have a noble, and a true conceit
Of godlike amity; which appears most strongly,
In bearing thus the absence of your lord.
But if you knew to whom you shew this honour,
How true a gentleman you send relief to,
How dear a lover of my lord, your husband;
I know you would be prouder of the work,
Than customary bounty can enforce you.
Por.
I never did repent of doing good,
And shall not, now.* note
Therefore, no more of it: hear other things.—
Lorenzo, I commit into your hands
The husbandry and manage of my house,
Until my lord's return. For mine own part,
I have tow'rd heaven breath'd a secret vow,
To live in pray'r and contemplation,
-- 204 --
Only attended by Nerissa here,
Until her husband and my lord's return.
There is a monastery, two miles off,
And there we will abide. I do desire you
Not to deny this imposition:
The which my love and some necessity,
Now lays upon you.
Lor.
Madam, with all my heart;
I shall obey you in all fair commands.
Por.
My people do already know my mind,
And will acknowledge you and Jessica,
In place of lord Bassanio and myself.
So, fare you well, 'till we shall meet again.
Lor.
Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you!
Jes.
I wish your ladyship all heart's content.
Por.
I thank you, for your wish, and am well pleased
To wish it back on you. Fare you well, Jessica.
[Exeunt Jes. and Lor.
Now, Balthazar,
As I have ever found thee honest, true,
So let me find thee still. Take this same letter,
And use thou all th' endeavour of a man,
In speed to Padua: see thou render this
Into my cousin's hand, Doctor Bellario;
And look what notes and garments he doth give thee,
Bring them, I pray thee, with imagin'd speed,
Unto the Traject, to the common ferry,
Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words,
But get thee gone; I shall be there before thee.
Bal.
Madam, I go, with all convenient speed.
[Exit.
Por.
Come on, Nerissa; I have work in hand,
That you yet know not of: we'll see our husbands,
Before they think of us.
Ner.
Shall they see us?
Por.
They shall, Nerissa; but in such a habit,
That they shall think we are accomplished,
With what we lack. I'll hold thee any wager,
When we are both apparell'd like young men,
I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two,
And wear my dagger with the braver grace;
-- 205 --
And speak between the change of man and boy,
With a reed voice; and turn two mincing steps
Into a manly stride; and speak of frays,
Like a fine bragging youth; and tell quaint lies,
How honourable ladies sought my love,
Which I denying, they fell sick and dy'd;
I could not do with all: then I'll repent,
And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them.
And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell;
That men shall swear I've discontinued school,
Above a twelvemonth. I have in my mind,
A thousand raw tricks of these bragging jacks,
Which I will practise.* note
But, come, I'll tell thee all my whole device,
When I am in my coach, which stays for us,
At the park-gate; and therefore, haste away,
For we must measure twenty miles, to-day.
[Exeunt.
Enter Launcelot and Jessica.
Laun.
Yes, truly: for look you, the sins of the
father are to be laid upon the children; therefore, I
promise you, I fear you. I was always plain with
you; and so now I speak my agitation of the matter:
therefore, be of good cheer; for truly, I think, you
are damn'd. There is but one hope in it that can do
you any good, and that is but a kind of bastard hope,
neither.
Jes.
And what hope is that, I pray thee?
Laun.
Marry, you may partly hope that your father
got you not; that you are not the Jew's daughter.
Jes.
That were a kind of bastard hope, indeed. So
the sins of my mother should be visited upon me.
Laun.
Truly, then, I fear you are damn'd, both by
father and mother; thus, when you shun Scylla, your
father, you fall into Charybdis, your mother. Well,
you are gone, both ways.
-- 206 --
Jes.
I shall be saved by my husband; he hath made
me a christian.
Laun.
Truly, the more to blame he; we were
christians enough before, e'en as many as could well
live one by another. This making of christians will
raise the price of hogs; if we grow all to be pork-eaters,
we shall not shortly have a rasher on the coals,
for money.
Enter Lorenzo.
Jes.
I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say.
Here he comes.
Lor.
I shall grow jealous of you, shortly, Launcelot,
if you thus get my wife into corners.
Jes.
Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo; Launcelot,
and I are out; he tells me flatly, there is no mercy
for me in Heav'n, because I am a Jew's daughter:
and he says, you are no good member of the commonwealth;
for in converting Jews to Christians, you
raise the price of pork.
Lor.
I shall answer that better to the commonwealth,
than you can the getting up of the negro's
belly. The Moor is with child by you, Launcelot.
Laun.
It is much, that the Moor should be more than
reason: but if she be less than an honest woman, she is
indeed more than I took her for.* note
Lor.
How every fool can play upon the word!
Go in, sirrah; bid them prepare for dinner.
Laun.
That is done, sir; they have all stomachs.
Lor.
Good lord, what a wit-snapper are you! then
bid them prepare dinner.
Laun.
That is done too, sir; only cover is the word.
Lor.
Will you cover then, sir?
Laun.
Not so, sir, neither; I know my duty.
Lor.
Yet more quarrelling with occasion! Wilt
thou shew the whole wealth of thy wit, in an instant?
I pray thee understand a plain man, in his plain meaning.
Go to thy fellows, bid them cover the table,
serve in the meat, and we will come in to dinner.
-- 207 --
Laun.
For the table, sir, it shall be serv'd in; for
the meat, sir, it shall be covered; for your coming in
to dinner, sir, why, let it be as humours and conceits
shall govern.
[Exit Laun.
Lor.
O dear discretion, how his words are suited!
The fool hath planted in his memory
An army of good words. And I do know
A-many fools that stand in better place,
Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word
Defy the matter. How far'st thou, Jessica?
And now, good sweet, say thy opinion,
How dost thou like the lord Bassanio's wife?
Jes.
Past all expressing. It is very meet
The lord Bassanio live an upright life;
For, having such a blessing in his lady,
He finds the joys of Heaven here on earth:
And if on earth he do not merit it,
In reason, he should never come to Heav'n.
Why, if two gods should play some heav'nly match,
And on the wager lay two earthly women,
And Portia one, there must be something else
Pawn'd with the other; for the poor rude world
Hath not her fellow.
Lor.
Even such a husband
Hast thou of me, as she is for a wife.
Jes.
Nay, but ask my opinion too of that.
Lor.
I will, anon: first let us go to dinner.
Jes.
Nay, let me praise you, while I have a stomach.
Lor.
No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk,
Then, howsoe'er thou speak'st, 'mong other things,
I shall digest it.
Jes.
Well, I'll set forth.
[Exeunt.* note
End of the Third Act.
-- 208 --
John Bell [1774], Bell's Edition of Shakespeare's Plays, As they are now performed at the Theatres Royal in London; Regulated from the Prompt Books of each House By Permission; with Notes Critical and Illustrative; By the Authors of the Dramatic Censor (Printed for John Bell... and C. Etherington [etc.], York) [word count] [S10401].
