The Dramatic Works

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.
What if I stray'd no further, 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-fares now,
For princes to come view fair Portia :
The watery 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,
To think so base a thought; it were too gross
To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave.
Or shall I think, in silver she's immur'd,
Being ten times undervalued to try'd gold?
O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem
Was set in worse than gold. They have in England
A coin, that bears the figure of an angel
Stamped in gold: but that's insculp'd
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,

Mor.

upon;

Then I am yours. [He unlocks the golden casket.
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
Fare you well; your suit is cold.
Cold, indeed; and labour lost:
Then, farewell, heat; and, welcome,
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,
Let all of his complexion choose me so. [Exeunt.
SCENE VIII.-Venice. A street. Enter Sala-
rino and Salanio.

frost.

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 certify'd 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! And jewels; two stones, 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. 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, 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 employ 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.

Salar. Do we so. [Exeunt. SCENE IX.-Belmont. A room in Portia's house. Enter Nerissa, with a servant.

Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee, draw the curtain straight;

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

Flourish of cornets. Enter the prince of Arragon,
Portia, and their trains.

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

(5) Shows, tokens.

(6) The heaviness he is fond of.

MERCHANT OF VENICE.

First, never to unfold to any one
Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I fail
Of the right casket, never in
To woo a maid in way of marriage; lastly,
my life
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.

hath:

Ar. And so have I address'd' me: Fortune now
To my heart's hope !-Gold, silver, and bese lead.
Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all
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 pries not to the 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 honourable

Without the stamp of merit! Let none presume
To wear an undeserved dignity.

O, that estates, degrees, and offices,

10 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 goes by destiny.
Por. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa.
Enter a Servant.

Serv. Where is my lady?

Por.

191

A young Venetian, one that comes before
Serv. Madam, there is alighted at your gate
Here; what would my lord ?
To signify the approaching of his lord:
To wit, besides commends, and courteous breath,
From whom he bringeth sensible regreets;
Gifts of rich value; yet I have not seen
So likely an embassador of love:
To show how costly summer was at hand,
A day in April never came so sweet,
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
Quick Cupid's post, that comes so mannerly.
Ner. Bassanio, lord love, if thy will it be!

ACT III.

[Exeunt.

Were not deriv'd corruptly! and that clear honour SCENE I.-Venice. A street. Enter Salanio,

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 honour? and how much honour
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.

Por. Too long a pause for that which you find

there.

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 deserves.
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 wis,*
Silver'd o'er; and so was this.
Take what wife you will to bed,
I will ever be your head:
So begone, sir, 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.

Por. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth.
[Exeunt Arragon, and train.

(Prepared. (2) Power. (3) Agree with.

and Salarino.

Salan. Now, what news on the Rialto?

narrow seas; the Goodwins, I think they call the Salar. Why, yet it lives there uncheck'd, that Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wreck'd on the place; a very dangerous flat, and fatal, where the if my gossip report be an honest woman of her word. carcases of many a tall ship lie buried, as they say,

Salan. I would she were as lying a gossip in that, lieve she wept for the death of a third husband: as ever knapp'd ginger, or made her neighbours becrossing the plain high-way of talk,-that the good But it is true, without any slips of prolixity, or Antonio, the honest Antonio,-O that I had a title good enough to keep his name company!Salar. Come, the full stop.

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

losses!
Salar. I would it might prove the end of his

Salan. Let me say amen betimes, lest the devil cross my prayer; for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew.

Enter Shylock.

How now, Shylock? what news among the mer-
Ichant's?

Shy. You knew, none so well, none so weil as you, of my daughter's flight.

Salar. That's certain; I, for my part, knew the tailor that made the wings she flew withal.

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 damn'd for it.

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

judge.

Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel !
Salan. Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it at these

years

upon

Shy. I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood.

Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, Salar. There is more difference between thy flesh one night, fourscore ducats. and hers, than between jet and ivory; more be- Shy. Thou stick'st a dagger in me:-I shall tween your bloods, than there is between red wine never see my gold again: Fourscore ducats at a and rhenish-But tell us, do you hear whether sitting! fourscore ducats! Antonio have had any loss at sea or no?

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

Tub. There came divers of Antonio's creditors Shy. There I have another bad match: a bank-in my company to Venice, that swear he cannot rupt, a prodigal, who dares scarce show his head on choose but break. the Rialto;-a beggar, that used 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 forfeit, thou wilt not take his flesh; What's that good for?

Tub One of them showed 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 bachelor: I would not have given it for a wilderness of monkies.

SCENE II.-Belmont.

[Exeunt.

Shy. To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone. me, and hindered me of half a million; laughed at Shy. Nay, that's true, that's very true; Go, Tu my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, bal, fee me an officer, bespeak him a fortnight be thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated fore: I will have the heart of him, if he forfeit; mine enemies; and what's his reason? I am a Jew: for were he out of Venice, I can make what merHath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, chandise I will; Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with our synagogue; go, good Tubal; at our synathe same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject gogue, Tubal. to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and sumA room in Portia's mer, as a Christian is if you prick us, do we not house. Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, Nebleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you rissa, and attendants. The caskets are set out. poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, Por. I pray you, tarry; pause a day or two, shall we not revenge? if we are like you in the Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong, rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong lose your company; therefore, forbear a while. a Christian, what is his humility? revenge; If a There's something tells me (but it is not love,) Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance I would not lose you; and you know yourself, be by Christian example? why, revenge. The Hate counsels not in such a quality: villany you teach me, I will execute; and it shall But lest you should not understand me well go hard, but I will better the instruction.

Salan. Here comes another of the tribe; a third cannot be matched, unless the devil himself turn [Exeunt Salan. Salar. and Servant. 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.

(And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,)
I would detain you here some month or two,
How to choose right, but then I am forsworn;
Before you venture for me. I could teach you,
But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin
So will I never be: So may you miss me;
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes,
They have o'er-look'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.

Shy. Why there, there, there, there! a diamond I speak too long; but 'tis to peize the time; gone, cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort! To eke it, and to draw it out in length, The curse never fell upon our nation till now; ITo stay you from election. never felt it till now:-two thousand ducats in that; Bass. Let me choose; and other precious, precious jewels.-I would, my For, as I am, I live upon the rack. daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels in Por. Upon the rack, Bassanio? then confess her ear! 'would she were hears'd at my foot, and What treason there is mingled with your love. the ducats in her coffin! No news of them ?-Why, Bass. None, but that ugly treason of mistrust, so:-and I know not what's spent in the search: Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love: Why, thou loss upon loss! the thief gone with so There may as well be amity and life much, and so much to find the thief; and no satis-'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love. faction, no revenge: nor no ill luck stirring, but Por. Ay, but I fear, you speak upon the rack, what lights o' my shoulders; no sighs, but o' my Where men enforced do speak any thing. 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?
Tub. hath an argosy cast away, coming from
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?

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 ine answers for deliverance!
But let me to my fortune and the caskets.

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 end,
Fading in music: that the comparison
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream,
And wat'ry 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,
With bleared visages, come forth to view,
The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules!
Live thou, I live:-With much much more dismay
I view the fight, than thou that mak'st the fray.
Music, whilst Bassanio comments on the caskets to
himself.

SONG.

1. Tell me, where is fancy bred, Or in the heart, or in the head? How begot, how nourished? Reply. 2. 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; Pll begin it, -Ding, dong, bell. All. Ding, dong, bell.

As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embrac'd despair,
And shudd'ring 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 !
Bass.
What find I here?

[Opening the leaden casket.
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 to entrap the hearts of men,
Faster than gnats in cobwebs: 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 unfurnish'd: Yet look, how far
The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow
In underprizing it, so far this shadow
Doth limp behind the substance.-Here's the scroll,
The continent and summary of my fortune.

You that choose not by the view,
Chance as fair, and choose 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.

Bass. So may the outward shows be least them-A gentle scroll;-Fair lady, by your leave;

selves;

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 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 valour's excrement,
To render them redoubted. Look on beauty,
And you shall see 'tis purchas'd 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
To be the dowry of a second head,
The scull that bred them in the sepulchre.
Thus ornament is but the guiled' 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 doth promise aught,
Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence!
And here choose I: Joy be the consequence!
Por. How all the other passions fleet to air,

[Kissing her. I come by note, to give, and to receive. Like one of two contending in a prize, That thinks he hath done well in pecle's eyes, Hearing applause, and universal shout, Giddy in spirit, still gazing, in a doubt Whether those peals of praise be his or no; So, thrice-fair lady, stand I, even so ; As doubtful whether what I see be true, Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you.

Por. You see me, lord Bassanio, where I stand, Such as I am: though, 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 only to stand high on your account,
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,
Exceed account: but the full sum of me
Is sum of something; which, to term in gross,
Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd:
Happy in this, she is not yet so old

But she may learn; and happier than 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, | Your hand, Salerio; What's the news from Venice ?

Only my blood speaks to you in my veins
And there is such confusion in my powers,
As, after some oration fairly spoke
By a beloved prince, there doth appear
Among the buzzing pleased multitude;
Where every something, being blent' together,
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy,
Express'd, and not express'd: 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 our wishes prosper,
To cry, good 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
Even at that time I may be married too.

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 intermission2

No more pertains to me, my lord, than you.
Your fortune stood upon the caskets 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
Achiev'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 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, my old Venetian friend, Salerio ?

Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salerio.
Bass. Lorenzo, and Salerio, 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.

They are entirely welcome.

So do I, my lord;

Lor. I thank your honour :--For my part,
lord,

My purpose was not to have seen you here;
But meeting with Salcrio by the way,
He did entreat me, past all saying nay,
To come with him along.

Sale.

And I have reason for it.
Commends him to you.
Bass.

I did, my lord,
Signior Antonio
[Gives Bassanio a letter.
Ere 1 ope his letter,

I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth.
Sale. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind;
Nor well, unless in mind: his letter there
Will show you his estate.

How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio?
I know, he will be glad of our success;

We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece.
Sale. '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 freely have the half of any thing
That this same paper brings you.

Bass.
O sweet Portia,
Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words,
That ever blotted paper! Gentle lady,
When I did first impart my love to you,
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;
The paper as the body of my friend,
And every word in it a gaping wound,
Issuing life-blood.-But is it true, Salerio?
Have all his ventures fail'd? What, not one hit?
From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England,
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India?
And not one vessel 'scape the dreadful touch
Of merchant-marring rocks?

Sale.

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 countrymen,
That he would rather have Antonio's flesh,
Than twenty times the value of the sum
That he did owe him: and I know, my lord,
If law, authority, and power deny not,
It will go hard with poor Antonio.

Por. Is it your dear friend, that is thus in trouble?
Bass. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man,
The best condition'd and unwearied spirit
In doing courtesies; 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

Gra. Nerissa, cheer yon' stranger; bid her wel- Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault.

come.

First, go with me to church, and call me wife:

(3) The chief men,

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The Dramatic Works, Volume 1