Merchant of Venice (1923) Yale/Text/Act II
ACT SECOND
Scene One
[Belmont. A Room in Portia's House]
Enter Morochus, a tawny Moor, all in white, and three or four followers accordingly, with Portia, Nerissa and their train. Flo[urish of] Cornets.
Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion,
The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun,
To whom I am a neighbour and near bred.
Bring me the fairest creature northward born, 4
Where Phœbus' fire scarce thaws the icicles,
And let us make incision for your love,
To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine.
I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine 8
Hath fear'd the valiant: by my love, I swear
The best regarded virgins of our clime
Have lov'd it too: I would not change this hue,
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen. 12
Por. In terms of choice I am not solely led
By nice direction of a maiden's eyes;
Besides, the lottery of my destiny
Bars me the right of voluntary choosing: 16
But if my father had not scanted me
And hedg'd me by his wit, to yield myself
His wife who wins me by that means I told you,
Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair 20
As any comer I have look'd on yet
For my affection.
Mor.Even for that I thank you:
Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets
To try my fortune. By this scimitar,— 24
That slew the Sophy, and a Persian prince
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,—
I would outstare the sternest eyes that look,
Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth, 28
Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear,
Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey,
To win thee, lady. But, alas the while!
If Hercules and Lichas play at dice 32
Which is the better man, the greater throw
May turn by fortune from the weaker hand:
So is Alcides beaten by his page;
And so may I, blind fortune leading me, 36
Miss that which one unworthier may attain,
And die with grieving.
Por.You must take your chance;
And either not attempt to choose at all,
Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong, 40
Never to speak to lady afterward
In way of marriage: therefore be advis'd.
Mor. Nor will not: come, bring me unto my chance.
Por. First, forward to the temple: after dinner 44
Your hazard shall be made.
Mor.Good fortune then!
To make me blest or cursed'st among men!
Scene Two
[Venice. A Street]
Enter the Clown alone.
Laun. Certainly my conscience will serve me
to run from this Jew my master. The fiend is
at mine elbow, and tempts me, saying to me,
'Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot,' or 4
'good Gobbo,' or 'good Launcelot Gobbo, use
your legs, take the start, run away.' My con-
science says, 'No; take heed, honest Launcelot;
take heed, honest Gobbo;' or, as aforesaid, 'honest 8
Launcelot Gobbo; do not run; scorn running
with thy heels.' Well, the most courageous fiend
bids me pack: 'Via!' says the fiend; 'away!'
says the fiend; 'for the heavens, rouse up a brave 12
mind,' says the fiend, 'and run.' Well, my con-
science, hanging about the neck of my heart, says
very wisely to me, 'My honest friend Launcelot,
being an honest man's son,'—or rather an honest 16
woman's son;—for, indeed, my father did some-
thing smack, something grow to, he had a kind
of taste;—well, my conscience says, 'Launcelot,
budge not.' 'Budge,' says the fiend. 'Budge 20
not,' says my conscience. 'Conscience,' say I,
'you counsel well;' 'fiend,' say I, 'you counsel well:'
to be ruled by my conscience, I should stay with
the Jew my master, who, God bless the mark! 24
is a kind of devil; and, to run away from the Jew,
I should be ruled by the fiend, who, saving your
reverence, is the devil himself. Certainly, the
Jew is the very devil incarnation; and, in my con- 28
science, my conscience is but a kind of hard con-
science, to offer to counsel me to stay with the
Jew. The fiend gives the more friendly counsel:
I will run, fiend; my heels are at your command- 32
ment; I will run.
Enter Old Gobbo, with a basket.
Gob. Master young man, you; I pray you,
which is the way to Master Jew's?
Laun. [Aside.] O heavens! this is my true- 36
begotten father, who, being more than sand-
blind, high-gravel blind, knows me not: I will
try confusions with him.
Gob. Master young gentleman, I pray you, 40
which is the way to Master Jew's?
Laun. Turn up on your right hand at the
next turning, but, at the next turning of all, on
your left; marry, at the very next turning, turn 44
of no hand, but turn down indirectly to the Jew's
house.
Gob. By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to
hit. Can you tell me whether one Launcelot, 48
that dwells with him, dwell with him or no?
Laun. Talk you of young Master Launcelot?
[Aside.] Mark me now; now will I raise the
waters. Talk you of young Master Launcelot? 52
Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man's son:
his father, though I say it, is an honest, exceed-
ing poor man, and, God be thanked, well to
live. 56
Laun. Well, let his father be what a' will, we
talk of young Master Launcelot.
Gob. Your worship's friend, and Launcelot,
sir. 60
Laun. But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I be-
seech you, talk you of young Master Launcelot?
Gob. Of Launcelot, an 't please your master-
ship. 64
Laun. Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of
Master Launcelot, father; for the young gentle-
man,—according to Fates and Destinies and such
odd sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches 68
of learning,—is, indeed, deceased; or, as you
would say in plain terms, gone to heaven.
Gob. Marry, God forbid! the boy was the very
staff of my age, my very prop. 72
Laun. [Aside.] Do I look like a cudgel or a
hovel-post, a staff or a prop? Do you know me,
father?
Gob. Alack the day! I know you not, young 76
gentleman: but I pray you, tell me, is my boy,—
God rest his soul!—alive or dead?
Laun. Do you not know me, father?
Gob. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind; I know you 80
not.
Laun. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes,
you might fail of the knowing me: it is a wise
father that knows his own child. Well, old man, 84
I will tell you news of your son. Give me your
blessing; truth will come to light; murder can-
not be hid long; a man's son may, but, in the
end, truth will out. 88
Gob. Pray you, sir, stand up. I am sure you
are not Launcelot, my boy.
Laun. Pray you, let's have no more fooling
about it, but give me your blessing: I am 92
Launcelot, your boy that was, your son that is,
your child that shall be.
Gob. I cannot think you are my son.
Laun. I know not what I shall think of that; 96
but I am Launcelot, the Jew's man, and I am
sure Margery your wife is my mother.
Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed: I'll be
sworn, if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own 100
flesh and blood. Lord worshipped might he be!
what a beard hast thou got! thou hast got more
hair on thy chin than Dobbin my phill-horse has
on his tail. 104
Laun. It should seem then that Dobbin's tail
grows backward: I am sure he had more hair on
his tail than I have on my face, when I last saw
him. 108
Gob. Lord! how art thou changed. How dost
thou and thy master agree? I have brought him
a present. How 'gree you now?
Laun. Well, well: but, for mine own part, as 112
I have set up my rest to run away, so I will not
rest till I have run some ground. My master's a
very Jew: give him a present! give him a halter:
I am famished in his service: you may tell every 116
finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad
you are come: give me your present to one
Master Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare new
liveries. If I serve not him, I will run as far 120
as God has any ground. O rare fortune! here
comes the man: to him, father; for I am a Jew,
if I serve the Jew any longer.
Enter Bassanio, with a follower [Leonardo] or two.
Bass. You may do so; but let it be so hasted 124
that supper be ready at the farthest by five
of the clock. See these letters delivered; put
the liveries to making; and desire Gratiano to
come anon to my lodging. 128
Laun. To him, father.
Gob. God bless your worship!
Bass. Gramercy! wouldst thou aught with
me? 132
Gob. Here's my son, sir, a poor boy,—
Laun. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich
Jew's man; that would, sir,—as my father shall
specify,— 136
Gob. He hath a great infection, sir, as one
would say, to serve—
Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve
the Jew, and have a desire, as my father shall 140
specify,—
Gob. His master and he, saving your wor-
ship's reverence, are scarce cater-cousins,—
Laun. To be brief, the very truth is that the 144
Jew having done me wrong, doth cause me,—
as my father, being, I hope, an old man, shall
frutify unto you,—
Gob. I have here a dish of doves that I 148
would bestow upon your worship, and my suit
is,—
Laun. In very brief, the suit is impertinent
to myself, as your worship shall know by this 152
honest old man; and, though I say it, though
old man, yet poor man, my father.
Bass. One speak for both. What would you?
Laun. Serve you, sir. 156
Gob. That is the very defect of the matter,
sir.
Bass. I know thee well; thou hast obtain'd thy suit:
Shylock thy master spoke with me this day, 160
And hath preferr'd thee, if it be preferment
To leave a rich Jew's service, to become
The follower of so poor a gentleman.
Laun. The old proverb is very well parted 164
between my master Shylock and you, sir: you
have the grace of God, sir, and he hath enough.
Bass. Thou speak'st it well. Go, father, with thy son.
Take leave of thy old master, and inquire 168
My lodging out. [To his followers.] Give him a livery
More guarded than his fellows': see it done.
Laun. Father, in. I cannot get a service, no;
I have ne'er a tongue in my head. Well, [Look- 172
ing on his palm] if any man in Italy have a
fairer table which doth offer to swear upon a
book, I shall have good fortune. Go to; here's
a simple line of life: here's a small trifle of wives: 176
alas! fifteen wives is nothing: a 'leven widows and
nine maids is a simple coming-in for one man;
and then to 'scape drowning thrice, and to be in
peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed; 180
here are simple 'scapes. Well, if Fortune be a
woman, she's a good wench for this gear. Father,
come; I'll take my leave of the Jew in the
twinkling of an eye. 184
Bass. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this:
These things being bought, and orderly bestowd,
Return in haste, for I do feast to-night
My best-esteem'd acquaintance: hie thee, go. 188
Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein.
Enter Gratiano.
Gra. Where is your master?
Leon.Yonder, sir, he walks.
Gra. Signior Bassanio!—
Bass. Gratiano! 192
Gra. I have a suit to you.
Bass.You have obtain'd it.
Gra. You must not deny me: I must go with you to Belmont.
Bass. Why, then you must. But hear thee, Gratiano;
Thou art too wild, too rude and bold of voice; 196
Parts that become thee happily enough,
And in such eyes as ours appear not faults;
But where thou art not known, why, there they show
Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain 200
To allay with some cold drops of modesty
Thy skipping spirit, lest, through thy wild behaviour,
I be misconstru'd in the place I go to,
And lose my hopes.
Gra.Signior Bassanio, hear me: 204
If I do not put on a sober habit,
Talk with respect, and swear but now and then,
Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely,
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes 208
Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say 'amen;'
Use all the observance of civility,
Like one well studied in a sad ostent
To please his grandam, never trust me more. 212
Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing.
Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night; you shall not gauge me
By what we do to-night.
Bass.No, that were pity:
I would entreat you rather to put on 216
Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends
That purpose merriment. But fare you well:
I have some business.
Gra. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest; 220
But we will visit you at supper-time. Exeunt.
Scene Three
[The Same. A Room in Shylock's House]
Enter Jessica and the Clown.
Jes. I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so:
Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil,
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness.
But fare thee well; there is a ducat for thee: 4
And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest:
Give him this letter; do it secretly;
And so farewell: I would not have my father 8
See me in talk with thee.
Laun. Adieu! tears exhibit my tongue. Most
beautiful pagan, most sweet Jew! If a Christian
did not play the knave and get thee, I am much 12
deceived. But, adieu! these foolish drops do
somewhat drown my manly spirit: adieu! Exit.
Jes. Farewell, good Launcelot.
Alack, what heinous sin is it in me 16
To be asham'd to be my father's child!
But though I am a daughter to his blood,
I am not to his manners. O Lorenzo!
If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, 20
Become a Christian, and thy loving wife. Exit.
Scene Four
[The Same. A Street]
Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio.
Lor. Nay, we will slink away in supper-time,
Disguise us at my lodging, and return
All in an hour.
Gra. We have not made good preparation. 4
Salar. We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers.
Salan. 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order'd,
And better, in my mind, not undertook.
Lor. 'Tis now but four o'clock: we have two hours 8
To furnish us.
Enter Launcelot, with a letter.
Friend Launcelot, what's the news?
Laun. An it shall please you to break up this,
it shall seem to signify.
Lor. I know the hand: in faith, 'tis a fair hand; 12
And whiter than the paper it writ on
Is the fair hand that writ.
Gra.Love news, in faith.
Laun. By your leave, sir.
Lor. Whither goest thou? 16
Laun. Marry, sir, to bid my old master, the
Jew, to sup to-night with my new master, the
Christian.
Lor. Hold here, take this: tell gentle Jessica 20
I will not fail her; speak it privately.
Go, gentlemen, [Eat Clown.
Will you prepare you for this masque to-night?
I am provided of a torch-bearer. 24
Salar. Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it straight.
Salan. And so will I.
Lor.Meet me and Gratiano
At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence.
Salar. 'Tis good we do so. 28
Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica?
Lor. I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed
How I shall take her from her father's house;
What gold and jewels she is furnish'd with; 32
What page's suit she hath in readiness.
If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven,
It will be for his gentle daughter's sake;
And never dare misfortune cross her foot, 36
Unless she do it under this excuse,
That she is issue to a faithless Jew.
Come, go with me: peruse this as thou goest.
Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. 40
Scene Five
[The Same. Before Shylock's House]
Enter Jew and his man that was the Clown.
Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge,
The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio:—
What, Jessica!—thou shalt not gormandize,
As thou hast done with me;—What, Jessica!— 4
And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out—
Why, Jessica, I say!
Laun.Why, Jessica!
Shy. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call.
Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me that 8
I could do nothing without bidding.
Enter Jessica.
Jes. Call you? What is your will?
Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica:
There are my keys. But wherefore should I go? 12
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: 16
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. 20
Shy. So do I his.
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 24
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.
Shy. What! are there masques? Hear you me, Jessica: 28
Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum,
And the vile squealing of the wry-neck'd fife,
Clamber not you up to the casements then,
Nor thrust your head into the public street 32
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 36
I have no mind of feasting forth to-night;
But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah;
Say I will come.
Laun. I will go before, sir. Mistress, look out 40
at window, for all this;
There will come a Christian by,
Will be worth a Jewess' eye.
Shy. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha?
Jes. His words were, 'Farewell, mistress;' nothing else. 45
Shy. The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder;
Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day
More than the wild cat: drones hive not with me; 48
Therefore I part with him, and part with him
To one that I would have him help to waste
His borrow'd purse. Well, Jessica, go in:
Perhaps I will return immediately: 52
Do as I bid you; shut doors after you:
'Fast bind, fast find,'
A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. Exit.
Jes. Farewell; and if my fortune be not crost, 56
I have a father, you a daughter, lost. Exit.
Scene Six
[The Same]
Enter the Maskers, Gratiano and Salarino.
Gra. This is the penthouse 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. 4
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 8
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, 12
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! 16
How like the prodigal doth she return,
With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails,
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind!
Salar. Here comes Lorenzo: more of this hereafter.
Enter Lorenzo.
Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode; 21
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; 24
Here dwells my father Jew. Ho! who's within?
[Enter] Jessica above [in boy's clothes].
Jes. Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty,
Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue.
Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love. 28
Jes. Lorenzo, certain; and my love indeed,
For whom love I so much? And now who knows
But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours?
Lor. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art. 32
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 36
The pretty follies that themselves commit;
For if they could, Cupid himself would blush
To see me thus transformed to a boy.
Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. 40
Jes. 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.
Lor.So are you, sweet, 44
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. 48
Jes. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself
With some more ducats, and be with you straight.
Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew.
Lor. Beshrew me, but I love her heartily; 52
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, 56
Shall she be placed in my constant soul.
Enter Jessica.
What art thou come? On, gentlemen; away!
Our masquing mates by this time for us stay.
Enter Antonio.
Ant. Who's there? 60
Gra. Signior Antonio!
Ant. Fie, fie, Gratiano! where are all the rest?
'Tis nine o'clock; our friends all stay for you.
No masque to-night: the wind is come about; 64
Bassanio presently will go aboard:
I have sent twenty out to seek for you.
Gra. I am glad on 't: I desire no more delight
Than to be under sail and gone to-night. 68
Scene Seven
[Belmont. A Room in Portia's House]
Enter Portia, with Morocco, and both their Trains.
Por. Go, draw aside the curtains, and discover
The several caskets to this noble prince.
Now make your choice.
Mor. The first, of gold, which this inscription bears:
Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire. 5
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: 8
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. 12
Mor. Some god direct my judgment! Let me see:
I will survey the inscriptions back again:
What says this leaden casket?
Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath. 16
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; 20
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, 24
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: 28
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, 32
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: 36
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: 40
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 44
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. 48
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, 52
Being ten times undervalu'd 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 56
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! 60
Por. There, take it, prince; and if my form lie there
Then I am yours.
Mor.O hell! what have we here?
A carrion Death, within whose empty eye
There is a written scroll. I'll read the writing. 64
'All that glisters is not gold;
Often have you heard that told:
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold: 68
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: 72
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 76
To take a tedious leave: thus losers part.
Por. A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains: go.
Let all of his complexion choose me so.
Scene Eight
[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. 5
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 8
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, 12
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! 16
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! 21
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. 24
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 28
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. 32
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: 36
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; 40
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 44
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 48
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 52
With some delight or other.
Salar.Do we so.
Scene Nine
[Belmont. A Room in Portia's House]
Enter Nerissa, and a Servitor.
Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee; draw the curtain straight:
The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath,
And comes to his election presently.
Enter Arragon, his train, and Portia. Flor[ish of] Cornets.
Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince:
If you choose that wherein I am contain'd, 5
Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemniz'd;
But if you fail, without more speech, my lord,
You must be gone from hence immediately. 8
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 12
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. 16
Por. To these injunctions every one doth swear
That comes to hazard for my worthless self.
Ar. And so have I address'd me. Fortune now
To my heart's hope! Gold, silver, and base lead. 20
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. 24
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, 28
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 32
And rank me with the barbarous multitude.
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. 36
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. 40
O! that estates, degrees, and offices
Were not deriv'd corruptly, and that clear honour
Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer.
How many then should cover that stand bare; 44
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 48
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. 52
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! 56
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? 60
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 64
That did never choose amiss.
Some there be that shadows kiss;
Such have but a shadow's bliss:
There be fools alive, I wis, 68
Silver'd o'er; and so was this.
Take what wife you will to bed,
I will ever be your head:
So be gone, sir: you are sped.' 72
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. 76
Sweet, adieu. I'll keep my oath,
Patiently to bear my wroth.
Por. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth.
O, these deliberate fools! when they do choose, 80
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. 84
Enter Messenger.
Mes. Where is my lady?
Por.Here; what would my lord?
Mes. Madam, there is alighted at your gate
A young Venetian, one that comes before
To signify the approaching of his lord; 88
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 embassador of love. 92
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 96
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. 100
Ner. Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be!
Footnotes to Act II
Scene One
Scene One S. d. accordingly: in similar dress
2 shadow'd: dark
7 reddest; cf. n.
9 fear'd: frightened
11, 12 I would not, etc.; cf. n.
14 nice: captious
17 scanted: restricted
18 wit: intelligence
Scene Two
10 with thy heels: indignantly
11 'Via!': Italian, meaning "get-ap"
12 for . . . heavens: for heaven's sake!
18 smack, etc.; cf. n.
20 budge: flinch, give ground
24 God bless the mark; cf. n.
26, 27 saving your reverence: (no offence intended!)
28 incarnation; cf. n.
37 sand-blind: half-blind; cf. n.
47 sonties; cf. n.
55 well to live: well to do
61, 62 Cf. n.
74 hovel-post: a supporting stick
101 Lord . . . be: Praise the Lord!
102 what a beard; cf. n.
103 phill-horse: shaft-horse
113 set up my rest: staked all, resolved absolutely (card-game term)
116 tell: count; cf. n.
121 God has any ground: He had little in Venice
131 Gramercy: grand merci, many thanks
143 cater-cousins: speaking acquaintances
147 frutify: i.e., notify (?)
151 impertinent: i.e., pertinent, relating
161 preferr'd: recommended
preferment: advancement
164 The old proverb; cf. n.
170 guarded: adorned with facings
174 table; cf. n.
178 simple coming-in: small inheritance
188 hie thee: hurry up
200 liberal: unrestrained
205 habit: behavior
208 hood: hats were worn at meals, but removed during grace
211 studied: rehearsed
sad ostent: serious appearance
Scene Three
3 taste: small bit
10 exhibit, etc.: express what my tongue would say
Scene Four
5 spoke us of: ordered
6 quaintly: ingeniously
10 break up: break the seals of
38 faithless: without Christian faith
Scene Five
5 rend: wear
18 to-night: last night
24 nose, etc.: a sign of bad luck, universally believed
25 Black-Monday: Easter Monday
26, 27 falling out, etc.: mere nonsense
30 wry-neck'd: played with the head twisted
33 with varnish'd faces: wearing painted masks (or perhaps painted with cosmetics)
35 foppery: folly
36 Jacob's staff: cf. Gen. 32. 10; Heb. 11. 21
37 forth: out
43 Jewess' eye; cf. n.
44 Hagar's; cf. Gen. 16.
46 patch: the dress of fools, hence term of contempt; cf. cross-patch
47 profit: acquired proficiency, training
Scene Six
1 penthouse: an attached shed, lean-to
5 Venus' pigeons: doves drew her chariot
7 obliged: contracted
10 untread: retrace
14 younker: eager youth
15 scarfed; cf. n.
21 abode: delay
31 yours: i.e., whether you love me
35 exchange: transformation
43 discovery: revealing
45 garnish: dress
47 close: secret
52 Beshrew: curse, a mild oath
Scene Seven
1 discover: reveal
8 all as blunt: equally blunt
12 withal: therewith
25 with an even hand: impartially
26 rated . . . estimation: valued according to thy worth
30 disabling: disparagement
33 In natural and acquired advantages
36 grav'd: engraved
40 shrine: image
41 Hyrcanian: south of the Caspian Sea
42 throughfares: thoroughfares
51 rib: enclose
cerecloth: winding sheet
53 undervalu'd: inferior in value
56 angel: gold coin worth 10s.
57 insculp'd upon: engraved on the outside
Scene Eight
12 passion: sorrow
27 reason'd: talked
39 Slubber: spoil by scamping
42 mind of love: loving mind
44 ostents: displays
45 conveniently: properly
48 sensible: charged with feeling
52 embraced heaviness: the sorrow that he so clings to
Scene Nine
3 election: choice
18 comes to hazard: incurs risk
19 address'd me: prepared myself
26 By: for
27 fond: foolish
28 martlet: martin (see Macbeth I. vi. 4)
30 force and road: 'in vi et via,' i.e., where accident occurs with the greatest violence and frequency
32 jump: agree
33 rank me: class myself
37 go about: undertake
38 cozen: cheat
honourable: worshipful, honored
41 estates: status, position
degrees: ranks
42 deriv'd: inherited
44 cover: wear their hats (in token of social dignity)
47 true . . . honour: scions of the great
48 chaff and ruin: riff-raff
51 assume: claim
61 To offend, etc.: the criminal need not judge his own case
68 I wis: corruption of 'gewis,' certainly
85 my lord; cf. n.
89 sensible: substantial, meaning his gifts
regreets: greetings
92 likely: promising
98 high-day: holiday, meaning ornate, dressed for holiday