The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

LAUNCELOT. I will go before, sir. Mistress, look out at window for all this.

There will come a Christian by

Will be worth a Jewess’ eye. Exit SHYLOCK. What says that fool of Hagar’s offspring, ha?

JESSICA. His words were ‘Farewell, mistress’; nothing else.

SHYLOCK. The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder, Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day More than the wildcat; drones hive not with me, Therefore I part with him; and part with him To one that I would have him help to waste His borrowed purse. Well, Jessica, go in; Perhaps I will return immediately.

Do as I bid you, shut doors after you.

Fast bind, fast find—

A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. Exit JESSICA. Farewell; and if my fortune be not crost, I have a father, you a daughter, lost. Exit

SCENE VI.

Venice. Before SHYLOCK’S house

Enter the maskers, GRATIANO and SALERIO

GRATIANO. This is the penthouse under which Lorenzo Desired us to make stand.

SALERIO. His hour is almost past.

GRATIANO. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, For lovers ever run before the clock.

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

GRATIANO. 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 enjoyed.

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 the prodigal doth she return, With over-weather’d ribs and ragged sails, Lean, rent, and beggar’d by the strumpet wind!

Enter LORENZO

SALERIO. Here comes Lorenzo; more of this hereafter.

LORENZO. Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode!

Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait.

When you shall please to play the thieves for wives, I’ll watch as long for you then. Approach; Here dwells my father Jew. Ho! who’s within?

Enter JESSICA, above, in boy’s clothes JESSICA. Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty, Albeit I’ll swear that I do know your tongue.

LORENZO. Lorenzo, and thy love.

JESSICA. Lorenzo, certain; and my love indeed; For who love I so much? And now who knows But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours?

LORENZO. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art.

JESSICA. 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.

LORENZO. Descend, for you must be my torchbearer.

JESSICA. What! must I hold a candle to my shames?

They in themselves, good sooth, are too too light.

Why, ‘tis an office of discovery, love, And I should be obscur’d.

LORENZO. So are you, sweet,

Even in the lovely garnish of a boy.

But come at once,

For the close night doth play the runaway, And we are stay’d for at Bassanio’s feast.

JESSICA. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself With some moe ducats, and be with you straight.

Exit above GRATIANO. Now, by my hood, a gentle, and no Jew.

LORENZO. 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; And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true, Shall she be placed in my constant soul.

Enter JESSICA, below What, art thou come? On, gentlemen, away; Our masquing mates by this time for us stay.

Exit with JESSICA and SALERIO

Enter ANTONIO

ANTONIO. Who’s there?

GRATIANO. Signior Antonio?

ANTONIO. Fie, fie, Gratiano, where are all the rest?

‘Tis nine o’clock; our friends all stay for you; No masque tonight; the wind is come about; Bassanio presently will go aboard;

I have sent twenty out to seek for you.

GRATIANO. I am glad on’t; I desire no more delight Than to be under sail and gone tonight. Exeunt

SCENE VII.

Belmont. PORTIA’s house

Flourish of cornets. Enter PORTIA, with the PRINCE OF MOROCCO, and their trains

PORTIA. Go draw aside the curtains and discover The several caskets to this noble Prince.

Now make your choice.

PRINCE OF MOROCCO. 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?

PORTIA. The one of them contains my picture, Prince; If you choose that, then I am yours withal.

PRINCE OF MOROCCO. 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 beest 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 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 throughfares 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 tried 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 Stamp’d 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!

PORTIA. There, take it, Prince, and if my form lie there, Then I am yours. [He opens the golden casket]

PRINCE OF MOROCCO. 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, frost.

Portia, adieu! I have too griev’d a heart To take a tedious leave; thus losers part.

Exit with his train. Flourish of cornets PORTIA. A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go.

Let all of his complexion choose me so. Exeunt

SCENE VIII.

Venice. A street

Enter SALERIO and SOLANIO

SALERIO. Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail; With him is Gratiano gone along;

And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not.

SOLANIO. The villain Jew with outcries rais’d the Duke, Who went with him to search Bassanio’s ship.

SALERIO. 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.

SOLANIO. 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.’

SALERIO. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him, Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats.

SOLANIO. Let good Antonio look he keep his day, Or he shall pay for this.

SALERIO. Marry, well rememb’red;

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.

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

SALERIO. 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 answered ‘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.

SOLANIO. 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.

SALERIO. Do we so. Exeunt

SCENE IX.

Belmont. PORTIA’S house

Enter NERISSA, and a SERVITOR

NERISSA. Quick, quick, I pray thee, draw the curtain straight; The Prince of Arragon hath ta’en his oath, And comes to his election presently.

Flourish of cornets. Enter the PRINCE OF ARRAGON, PORTIA, and their trains PORTIA. 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.

ARRAGON. 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