Jes. Call you? What is your will?

Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica: There are my keys.-But wherefore should I go? I am not bid for love; they flatter me: But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon The prodigal Christian.-Jessica, my girl, Look to my house :-I am right loath to go. There is some ill a brewing towards my rest, For I did dream of money-bags to-night.

Laun. I beseech you, sir, go: my young master doth expect your reproach.

Shy. So do I his.

b

Laun. And they have conspired together:-I will not say, you shall see a masque; but if you do, then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a bleeding on black Monday last, at six o'clock i'the morning, falling out that year on Ash-Wednesday was four year in the afternoon. [Jessica: Shy. What are there masques ?-Hear you me, Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum, And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fife, Clamber not you up to the casements then, Nor thrust your head into the public street To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces, But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements: Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter My sober house.-By Jacob's staff, I swear, I have no mind of feasting forth to-night; But I will go.-Go you before me, sirrah: Say, I will come.

SCENE VI.-The Same.

Enter GRATIANO and SALARINO, masqued.

Gra. This is the pent-house, under which Lorenzo Desir'd us to make stand. Salar. His hour is almost past. Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, For lovers ever run before the clock.

Salar. O ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly To seal love's bonds new-made, than they are wont To keep obliged faith unforfeited!

Gra. That ever holds: who riseth from a feast, With that keen appetite that he sits down? Where is the horse that doth untread again His tedious measures, with the unbated fire That he did pace them first? All things that are, Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. How like a younker, or a prodigal, The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind! How like a prodigal doth she return, With over-weather'd ribs, and ragged sails, Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind!

Jes. Who are you? Tell me for more certainty, Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue. Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love.

Jes. Lorenzo, certain; and my love, indeed, For whom love I so much? And now who knows, But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours? [thou art. Lor. Heaven, and thy thoughts are witness that Jes. Here, catch this casket: it is worth the pains. I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me, For I am much asham'd of my exchange; But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit; For if they could, Cupid himself would blush To see me thus transformed to a boy.

And I should be obscur'd.

Lor.

So are you, sweet,
Even in the 3 garnish of a lovely boy.
But come at once;

For the close night doth play the run-away,
And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast.
Jes. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself
With some more ducats, and be with you straight.
[Exit, from above.
Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew.
Lor. Beshrew me, but I love her heartily;
For she is wise, if I can judge of her,
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true,
And true she is, as she hath prov'd herself;

Now make your choice.

2[Curtains drawn aside.

Mor. The first, of gold, who this inscription bears;"Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire." The second, silver, which this promise carries ;"Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves." This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt ;"Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.” How shall I know if I do choose the right?

Por. The one of them contains my picture, prince: If you choose that, then I am yours withal.

Mor. Some god direct my judgment! Let me see,
I will survey th' inscriptions back again:
What says this leaden casket?

"Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath."
Must give-For what? for lead? hazard for lead?
This casket threatens: men, that hazard all,
Do it in hope of fair advantages:

A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross;
I'll then nor give, nor hazard, aught for lead.
What says the silver, with her virgin hue?
"Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves."
As much as he deserves?-Pause there, Morocco,
And weigh thy value with an even hand.
If thou be'st rated by thy estimation,

Thou dost deserve enough; and yet enough
May not extend so far as to the lady;
And yet to be afeard of my deserving
Were but a weak disabling of myself.

As much as I deserve?-Why, that's the lady:
I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes,
In graces, and in qualities of breeding;
But more than these in love I do deserve 3 her.
What if I stray'd no farther, but chose here?-
Let's see once more this saying grav'd in gold:
"Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire."
Why, that's the lady; all the world desires her:
From the four corners of the earth they come,
To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint.
The Hyrcanian deserts, and the vasty wilds
Of wide Arabia, are as through-fures now,
For princes to come view fair Portia :
The wat'ry kingdom, whose ambitious head
Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar
To stop the foreign spirits, but they come,
As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia.

One of these three contains her heavenly picture.
Is't like, that lead contains her? 'Twere damnation,

b

To think so base a thought: it were too gross
To a rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave.
Or shall I think in silver she's immur'd,
Being ten times undervalued to tried gold?
O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem
A coin, that bears the figure of an angel
Was set in worse than gold. They have in England
Stamped in gold, but that's insculp'd upon;
But here an angel in a golden bed
Lies all within.-Deliver me the key:
Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may!

Por. There, take it, prince; and if my form lie there,

Then I am yours. [He opens the golden casket.

Mor.

O hell! what have we here?
A carrion death, within whose empty eye
There is a written scroll. I'll read the writing.
"All that glisters is not gold;
Often have you heard that told:
Many a man his life hath sold,
But my outside to behold:
Gilded tombs do worms infold.
Had you been as wise as bold,

Young in limbs, in judgment old,

Your answer had not been inscroll'd:
d

Fare you well; your suit is cold."
Cold, indeed, and labor lost:

Then, farewell, heat; and, welcome, frost.-
Portia, adieu. I have too griev'd a heart
To take a tedious leave: thus losers part. [Exit.
Por. A gentle riddance.-Draw the curtains: go.
[Curtains drawn.
Let all of his complexion choose me so. [Exeunt.

SCENE VIII.-Venice. A Street.

Enter SALARINO and SALANIO.
Salar. Why man, I saw Bassanio under sail:
With him is Gratiano gone along;

And in their ship, I'm sure, Lorenzo is not.
Salan. The villain Jew with outcries rais'd the duke,
Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship.

Salar. He came too late, the ship was under sail :
But there the duke was given to understand,
That in a gondola were seen together
Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica.
Besides, Antonio certified the duke,
They were not with Bassanio in his ship.

Salan. I never heard a passion so confus'd, So strange, outrageous, and so variable, As the dog Jew did utter in the streets: "My daughter!-O my ducats!-O my daughter! Fled with a Christian ?-O my Christian ducats! Justice! the law! my ducats, and my daughter! A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats, Of double ducats, stol'n from me by my daughter! 6 And jewels too! two rich and precious stones, Stol'n by my daughter!-Justice! find the girl! She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats!"

Salar. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him, Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats. Salan. Let good Antonio look he keep his day, Or he shall pay for this.

Salar.

Marry, well remember'd. I 'reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday, Who told me, in the narrow seas, that part The French and English, there miscarried A vessel of our country, richly fraught. I thought upon Antonio when he told me, And wish'd in silence that it were not his.

■ Enclose.-b" Undervalued to," i, e., undervalued if compared with. Engraven.-d "Your answer," i. e., the answer you have got, namely, "Fare you well."- Disposition; character.-Conversed.

Salan. You were best to tell Antonio what you hear; Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him.

Salar. A kinder gentleman treads not the earth. I saw Bassanio and Antonio part.

Bassanio told him, he would make some speed
Of his return: he answer'd-" Do not so;
a Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio,
But stay the very riping of the time:

And for the Jew's bond, which he hath of me,
Let it not enter in your mind of love.
Be merry; and 1apply your chiefest thoughts
To courtship, and such fair ostents of love
As shall conveniently become you there."
And even there, his eye being big with tears,
Turning his face, he put his hand behind him,
And with affection wondrous sensible

He wrung Bassanio's hand; and so they parted.
Salan. I think, he only loves the world for him.
I pray thee, let us go, and find him out,
And quicken his embraced heaviness
With some delight or other.

The prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath,
And comes to his election presently.

Enter the PRINCE OF ARRAGON, PORTIA, and their
trains. 2 Flourish cornets. 3 Curtains withdrawn.
Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince.
If you choose that wherein I am contain'd,
Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemniz'd;
But if you fail, without more speech, my lord,
You must be gone from hence immediately.

Ar. I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things: First, never to unfold to any one

Which casket 'twas I chose: next, if I fail

Of the right casket, never in my life

To woo a maid in way of marriage: lastly,
If I do fail in fortune of my choice,
Immediately to leave you and be gone.

Por. To these injunctions every one doth swear,
That comes to hazard for my worthless self.
Ar. And so have I daddress'd me. Fortune now
To my heart's hope!-Gold, silver, and base lead.
"Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath:"
You shall look fairer, ere I give, or hazard.
What says the golden chest? ha! let me see:→
"Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire."
What many men desire:-that many may be meant
By the fool multitude, that choose by show,

Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach;
Which prize not th' interior, but, like the martlet,
Builds in the weather, on the outward wall,
Even in the force and road of casualty.
I will not choose what many men desire,
Because I will not jump with common spirits,
And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.
Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house;
Tell me once more what title thou dost bear:
"Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves;"
And well said too; for who shall go about
To cozen fortune, and be honorable,

Without the stamp of merit? Let none presume

To "slubber" is to do a thing carelessly. Shows; tokens.-"Embraced heaviness," i. e., the heaviness he is fond of, or indulges. Prepared. By and of were anciently used indifferently. Power.-s Agree.

| To wear an undeserved dignity.
O! that estates, degrees, and offices,
Were not deriv'd corruptly; and that clear honor
Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer!
How many then should cover, that stand bare;
How many be commanded, that command:
How much low peasantry would then be glean'd
From the true seed of honor; and how much honor
Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times,
To be new varnish'd! Well, but to my choice:
"Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves."
I will assume desert:-give me a key for this,
And instantly unlock my fortunes here.
[He opens the silver casket.
Por. Too long a pause for that which you find

there.

5

Ar. What's here? the portrait of a blinking idiot, Presenting me a schedule? I will read it. How much unlike art thou to Portia !

How much unlike my hopes, and my deservings! "Who chooseth me shall have as much as he de

serves."

Did I deserve no more than a fool's head?
Is that my prize? are my deserts no better?
Por. To offend, and judge, are distinct offices,
And of opposed natures.

Ar.

What is here?
"The fire seven times tried this:

Seven times tried that judgment is,
That did never choose amiss.
Some there be that shadows kiss;
Such have but a shadow's bliss.
There be fools alive, I bwis,
Silver'd o'er; and so was this.
Take what wife you will to bed,
I will ever be your head:
So begone: you are sped."
Still more fool I shall appear
By the time I linger here:

With one fool's head I came to woo,
But I go away with two.-

Sweet, adieu. I'll keep my oath,
Patiently to bear my wroth.

[Exeunt ARRAGON, and train.
Por. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth.
O, these deliberate fools! when they do choose,
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose.
Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy:
Hanging and wiving go by destiny.
Por. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa.

[Curtains drawn.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Where is my lady?
Por.
Here; what would my lord?
Mess. Madam, there is alighted at your gate
A young Venetian, one that comes before
To signify the approaching of his lord,
From whom he bringeth sensible regreets;
To wit, (besides commends, and courteous breath,)
Gifts of rich value; yet I have not seen
So likely an ambassador of love.

A day in April never came so sweet,
To show how costly summer was at hand,
As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord.

Por. No more, I pray thee: I am half afeard,
Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee,
Thou spend'st such 'high-day wit in praising him.→
Come, come, Nerissa; for I long to see
Cupid's quick post, that comes so mannerly.
Ner. Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be.

8

[Exeunt.

Know. Ruth; misfortune. Salutations. Holiday

ACT III

SCENE I.-Venice. A Street. Enter SALANIO and SALARINO. Salan. Now, what news on the Rialto? Salar. Why, yet it lives there uncheck'd, that Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wreck'd on the narrow seas; the Goodwins, I think they call the place a very dangerous flat, and fatal, where the carcasses of many a tall ship lie buried, as they if say, my gossip, report, be an honest woman of her word.

Salan. I would she were as lying a gossip in that, as ever a knapped ginger, or made her neighbors believe she wept for the death of a third husband. But it is true, without any slips of prolixity, or crossing the plain high-way of talk, that the good Antonio, the honest Antonio,-O, that I had a title good enough to keep his name company!— Salar. Čome, the full stop.

Salan. Ha!-what say'st thou ?-Why the end is, he hath lost a ship.

Salar. I would it might prove the end of his

b

Salan. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was fledg'd; and then, it is the complexion of them all to leave the dam.

Shy. She is damned for it.

Salar. That's certain, if the devil may be her judge.

Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel! 1Salar. Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it at these years?

Shy. I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood. Salar. There is more difference between thy flesh and hers, than between jet and ivory; more between your bloods, than there is between red wine and rhenish. But tell us, do you hear whether Antonio have had any loss at sea or no?

Shy. There I have another bad match: a bankrupt, a prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto;-a beggar, that was wont to come so smug upon the mart.-Let him look to his bond: he was wont to call me usurer;-let him look to his bond: he was wont to lend money for a Christian courtesy; let him look to his bond.

Salar. Why, I am sure, if he forfcit, thou wilt not take his flesh: what's that good for?

means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? if you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? why, revenge. The vil lainy you teach me, I will execute; and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house, and desires to speak with you both.

Salar. We have been up and down to seek him. Salan. Here comes another of the tribe: a third cannot be matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew. [Exeunt SALAN., SALAR., and Servant.

Enter TUBAL.

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.

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! would she were hearsed at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin! No news of them?Why, so;-and I know not what's spent in the search: Why then-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. Antonio, as I heard in Genoa,

Shy. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck? hath an argosy cast away, coming from

Tub. Tripolis.

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 Antonio's creditors in my company to Venice, that swear he cannot choose but break.

Shy. I am very glad of it. I'll plague him; I'll torture him: I am glad of it.

Tub. One of them showed me a ring, that he had of your daughter for a monkey.

Shy. Nay, that's true, that's very true. Go, Tubal, fee me an officer: bespeak him a fortnight before. I will have the heart of him, if he forfeit; for, were he out of Venice, I can make what merchandise I will. Go, Tubal, and meet me at our

a Turkois, a much-esteemed gem.

Enter BASSANIO, PORTIA, GRATIANO, NERISSA, and their Attendants.1

Por. I pray you tarry: pause a day or two,
Before you hazard; for, in choosing 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,
Hate counsels not in such a quality.

But lest you should not understand me well,
And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,
I would detain you here some month or two,
Before you venture for me. I could teach you,
How to choose right, but then I am forsworn;
So will I never be: so may you miss me;
But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin,
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes,
They have o'erlook'd me, and divided me;
One half of me is yours, the other half yours,—
Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,
And so all yours! O! these naughty times
Put bars between the owners and their rights;
And so, though yours, not yours.-Prove it so,
Let fortune go to hell for it,-not I.

2

I speak too long; but 'tis to pause the time,
To eke it, and to draw it out in length,
To stay you from election.

Bass.

Let me choose;

For, as I am, I live upon the rack.

Por. Upon the rack, Bassanio? then confess
What treason there is mingled with your love.
Bass. None, but that ugly treason of mistrust,
Which makes me fear th' enjoying of my love.
There may as well be amity and life

"Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love.
Por. Ay, but, I fear, you speak upon the rack,
Where men enforced do speak any thing.
Bass. Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth.
Por. Well then, confess, and live.
Bass.
Confess, and love,
Had been the very sum of my confession.
O, happy torment, when my torturer
Doth teach me answers for deliverance!
But let me to my fortune and the caskets.

3[Curtains drawn aside.
Por. Away then. I am lock'd in one of them:
If you do love me, you will find me out.-
Nerissa, and the rest, stand all aloof.-
Let music sound, while he doth make his choice;
Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like bend,
Fading in music: that the comparison
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream,
And watery death-bed for him. He may win,
And what is music then? then music is
Even as the flourish when true subjects bow
To a new-crowned monarch: such it is,
As are those dulcet sounds in break of day,
That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear,
And summon him to marriage. Now he goes,
With no less presence, but with much more love,
Than young Alcides, when he did redeem
The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy
To the sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice,
The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives,

To be overlooked was a term for being bewitched by an evil eye. Alluding to the opinion that the swan utters a plaintive musical note at the approach of death. "Presence," i. e., dignity of mien,

A Song, the whilst BASSANIO comments on the caskets to himself.

Tell me, where is fancy bred,
Or in the heart, or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?
Reply, reply.

It is engender'd in the eyes,
With gazing fed; and fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies.

Let us all ring fancy's knell ;
I'll begin it,
-Ding, dong, bell.

All. Ding, dong, bell.

e

Bass. So may the outward shows be least themThe world is still deceiv'd with ornament. [selves: 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 his outward parts. How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins The beards of Hercules, and frowning Mars, Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk; And these assume but valor's excrement, To render them redoubted. Look on beauty, And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight; Which therein works a miracle in nature, Making them lightest that wear most of it: So are those crisped snaky golden locks, Which make such wanton gambols with the wind, Upon supposed fairness, often known

h

To be the dowry of a second head,

The scull that bred them, in the sepulchre.
Thus ornament is but the guiling shore
To a most dangerous sea, the beauteous scarf
Veiling an Indian: beauty, in a word,
The seeming truth which cunning times put on
To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold,
Hard food for.Midas, I will none of thee.

Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge
'Tween man and man: but thou, thou meagre lead,
Which rather threat'nest than dost promise aught,
Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence,
And here choose I. Joy be the consequence!

Por. How all the other passions fleet to air,
As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embrac'd despair,
And shuddering fear, and green-ey'd jealousy.
O love! be moderate; allay thy ecstasy;
In measure rain thy joy; scant this excess:
I feel too much thy blessing; make it less,
For fear I surfeit!

[casket.
Bass. What find I here? [He opens the leaden
Fair Portia's 'counterfeit! What demi-god
Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes?
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine,
Seem they in motion? Here are sever'd lips,
Parted with sugar breath; so sweet a bar
Should sunder such sweet friends. Here, in her hairs,
The painter plays the spider, and hath woven
A golden mesh t' entrap the hearts of men,
Faster than gnats in cobwebs; but her eyes!-
How could he see to do them? having made one,

Love. Pleasing; winning. Confirm; justify-"Va lor's excrement," i. e., the beard of Hercules. Curled.-Likeness; resemblance.