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The Merchant of Venice, Act III

Act III, Scene 1

                        [Venice.  A street.  SOLANIO and SALARINO enter.]

 

                                    SOLANIO

            Now, what news on the Rialto?

 

                                    SOLANIO

            Why, yet it lives there uncheck'd, that Antonio hath a ship

            of rich lading wrack'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

            say, if my gossip Report be an honest woman of her word.

 

                                    SOLANIO

            I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever knapp'd

            ginger, or made her neighbours believe she wept for the

            death of a third husband. But it is true,‑ without any slips

            of prolixity, or crossing the plain highway of talk,‑ that

            the good Antonio, the honest Antonio,‑ O, that I had a title

            good enough to keep his name company!‑

 

                                    SALARINO

            Come, the full stop.

 

                                    SOLANIO

            Ha,‑ what sayest thou?‑ Why, the end is, he hath lost a ship.

 

                                    SALARINO

            I would it might prove the end of his losses.

 

                                    SOLANIO

            Let me say amen betimes, lest the devil cross my prayer,‑

            for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew.

 

                        [SHYLOCK enters.]

 

            How now, Shylock! what news among the merchants?

 

                                    SHYLOCK

            You knew, none so well, none so well as you, of my

            daughter's flight.

 

                                    SALARINO

            That's certain: I, for my part, knew the tailor that made

            the wings she flew withal.

 

                                    SOLANIO

            And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was fledged;

            and then it is the complexion of them all to leave the dam.

 

                                    SHYLOCK

            She is damn'd for it.

 

                                    SALARINO

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

 

                                    SHYLOCK

            My own flesh and blood to rebel!

 

                                    SOLANIO

            Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it at these years?

 

                                    SHYLOCK

            I say my daughter is my flesh and blood.

 

                                    SALARINO

            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?

 

                                    SHYLOCK

            There I have another bad match: a bankrout, a prodigal, who

            dare scarce show his head on the Rialto;‑ a beggar, that was

            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.

 

                                    SALARINO

            Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his flesh:

            what's that good for?

 

                                    SHYLOCK

            To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else, it will

            feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hinder'd me half

            a million; laugh'd at my losses, mock'd at my gains, scorn'd

            my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated

            mine enemies: and what's his reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a

            Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses,

            affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the

            same weapons, subject to the same diseases, heal'd by the

            same means, warm'd and cool'd by the same winter and summer,

            as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you

            tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die?

            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 villainy you teach me,

            I will execute; and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction.

 

                        [A SERVANT enters from ANTONIO.]

 

                                    SERVANT

            Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house, and desires to

            speak with you both.

 

                                    SALARINO

            We have been up and down to seek him.

 

                                    SOLANIO

            Here comes another of the tribe: a third cannot be match'd,

            unless the devil himself turn Jew.

 

                        [SOLANIO, SALARINO, and SERVANT exit.]

 

                        [TUBAL enters.]

 

                                    SHYLOCK

            How now, Tubal! what news from Genoa? hast thou found my

            daughter?

 

                                    TUBAL

            I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot find her.

 

                                    SHYLOCK

            Why, there, there,there, there! a diamond gone, cost me two

            thousand ducats in Frankfurt! 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, thou, loss upon loss! the

            thief gone with so much, and so much to find the thief; and

            no satisfaction, no revenge: nor no ill luck stirring but

            what lights on my shoulders; no sighs but of my breathing;

            no tears but of my shedding.

 

                                    TUBAL

            Yes, other men have ill luck too: Antonio, as I heard in Genoa,‑

 

                                    SHYLOCK

            What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck?

 

                                    TUBAL

            Hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis.

 

                                    SHYLOCK

            I thank God, I thank God!‑ Is't true, is't true?

 

                                    TUBAL

            I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wrack.

 

                                    SHYLOCK

            I thank thee, good Tubal:‑ good news, good news! ha,ha!‑

            where? in Genoa?

 

                                    TUBAL

            Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, one night

            fourscore ducats.

 

                                    SHYLOCK

            Thou stick'st a dagger in me:‑ I shall never see my gold

            again: fourscore ducats at a sitting! fourscore ducats!

 

                                    TUBAL

            There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my company to

            Venice, that swear he cannot choose but break.

 

                                    SHYLOCK

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

            am glad on't.

 

                                    TUBAL

            One of them show'd me a ring that he had of your daughter

            for a monkey.

 

                                    SHYLOCK

            Out upon her! Thou torturest me, Tubal: it was my turquoise;

            I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor: I would not have

            given it for a wilderness of monkeys.

 

                                    TUBAL

            But Antonio is certainly undone.

 

                                    SHYLOCK

            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 synagogue; go, good Tubal; at our synagogue, Tubal.    

 

                        [SHYLOCK and TUBAL exit.]

Act III, Scene 2

                        [Belmont.  A room in Portia's house.  BASSANIO enters with PORTIA,

                        GRATIANO, NERISSA, and all their TRAIN.]

 

                                    PORTIA

            I pray you, tarry: pause a day or two

            Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong,

            I lose your company: therefore, forbear awhile.

            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.

            I speak too long; but 'tis to peize the time,

            To eke it, and to draw it out in length,

            To stay you from election.

 

                                    BASSANIO

                                                            Let me choose;

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

 

                                    PORTIA

            Upon the rack, Bassanio! then confess

            What treason there is mingled with your love.

 

                                    BASSANIO

            None but that ugly treason of mistrust,

            Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love:

            There may as well be amity and league

            'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love.

 

                                    PORTIA

            Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack,

            Where men enforced do speak any thing.

 

                                    BASSANIO

            Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth.

 

                                    PORTIA

            Well then, confess, and live.

 

                                    BASSANIO

                                                "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.

 

                                    PORTIA

            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 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,

            With bleared visages, come forth to view

            The issue of th'exploit. Go, Hercules!

            Live thou, I live:‑ with much much more dismay

            I view the fight than thou that makest the fray.

 

                        [There is music.  A song in played while BASSANIO comments on the

                        caskets to himself.]

 

                     Tell me where is the 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.

 

                                    BASSANIO

            So may the outward shows be least themselves:

            The world is still deceived 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 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

            To be the dowry of a second head,

            The skull 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 stale and common drudge

            'Tween man and man: but thou, thou meagre lead,    

            Which rather threatenst than dost promise aught,

            Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence;

            And here choose I:‑ joy be the consequence!

 

                                    PORTIA [aside]

            How all the other passions fleet to air,‑

            As doubtful thoughts, and rash‑embraced despair,

            And shuddering fear, and green‑eyed 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!

 

                                    BASSANIO

                                         What find I here?

 

                        [He opens 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 t'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 pleased with this,    

                     And hold your fortune for your bliss,

                     Turn you where your lady is,         

                     And claim her with a loving kiss."   

            A gentle scroll.‑ Fair lady, by your leave;    

 

                        [He kisses 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 people'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.

 

                                    PORTIA

            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 in your account,

            I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,

            Exceed account: but the full sum of me

            Is sum of nothing; which, to term in gross,

            Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractised:

            Happy in this, she is not yet so old

            But she may learn; 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.

 

                                    BASSANIO

            Madam, you have bereft me of all words,

            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!

 

                                    NERISSA

            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!

 

                                    GRATIANO

            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.

 

                                    BASSANIO

            With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.

 

                                    GRATIANO

            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 loved, I loved; for intermission

            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

            Achieved her mistress.

 

                                    PORTIA

                                                Is this true, Nerissa?

 

                                    NERISSA

            Madam, it is, so you stand pleased withal.

 

                                    BASSANIO

            And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith?

 

                                    GRATIANO

            Yes, faith, my lord.

 

                                    BASSANIO

            Our feast shall be much honour'd in your marriage.

 

                                    GRATIANO

            We'll play with them the first boy for a thousand ducats.

 

                                    NERISSA

            What, and stake down?

 

                                    GRATIANO

            No; we shall ne'er win at that sport, and stake down.‑

            But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel?

            What, and my old Venetian friend Solanio?

 

            [LORENZO enters with JESSICA, and SOLANIO.]

 

                                    BASSANIO

            Lorenzo and Solanio, 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.

 

                                    PORTIA

                                                So do I, my lord;

            They are entire welcome.

 

                                    LORENZO

            I thank your honour.‑ For my part, my lord,

            My purpose was not to have seen you here;

            But meeting with Solanio by the way,

            He did entreat me, past all saying nay,

            To come with him along.

 

                                    SOLANIO

                                                I did, my lord;

            And I have reason for't. Signior Antonio

            Commends him to you.

 

                        [SOLANIO gives a letter to BASSANIO.]

 

                                    BASSANIO

                                                Ere I ope his letter,

            I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth.

 

                                    SOLANIO

            Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind;

            Not well, unless in mind: his letter there

            Will show you his estate.    

 

                        [BASSANIO reads the letter.]

 

                                    GRATIANO

            Nerissa, cheer yon stranger; bid her welcome.‑

            Your hand, Solanio: what's the news from Venice?

            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.

 

                                    SOLANIO

            I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost!

 

                                    PORTIA

            There are some shrewd contents in yon same paper,

            That steals 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.

 

                                    BASSANIO

                                                            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,

            I freely told you, all the wealth I had

            Ran in my veins,‑ I was a gentleman;

            And then I told you true: and yet, dear lady,

            Rating myself at nothing, you shall see

            How much I was a braggart. When I told you

            My state was nothing, I should then have told you

            That I was worse than nothing; for, indeed,

            I have engaged myself to a dear friend,

            Engaged 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 it is true, Solanio?

            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?

 

                                    SOLANIO

                                                            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.

 

                                    JESSICA

            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.

 

                                    PORTIA

            Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble?

 

                                    BASSANIO

            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.

 

                                    PORTIA

            What sum owes he the Jew?

 

                                    BASSANIO

            For me three thousand ducats.

 

                                    PORTIA

                                                            What, no more?

            Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond;

            Double six thousand, and then treble that,

            Before a friend of this description

            Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault.

            First go with me to church and call me wife,

            And then away to Venice to your friend;

            For never shall you lie by Portia's side

            With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold

            To pay the petty debt twenty times over:

            When it is paid, bring your true friend along.

            My maid Nerissa and myself meantime

            Will live as maids and widows. Come, away!

            For you shall hence upon your wedding‑day:

            Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer:

            Since you are dear‑bought, I will love you dear.‑

            But let me hear the letter of your friend.

 

                                    BASSANIO [reads]

            "Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all miscarried, my creditors

            grow cruel, my estate is very low, my bond to the Jew is

            forfeit; and since in paying it, it is impossible I should

            live, all debts are clear'd between you and I, if I might

            but see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your pleasure:

            if your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter."

 

                                    PORTIA

            O love, dispatch all business, and be gone!

 

                                    BASSANIO

            Since I have your good leave to go away,

                I will make haste: but, till I come again,

            No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay,

                No rest be interposer 'twixt us twain.

 

                        [EVERYONE exits.]

Act III, Scene 3

                        [Venice.  A street.  SHYLOCK enters with SALARINO, ANTONIO,

                         and GAOLER.]

 

                                    SHYLOCK

            Gaoler, look to him:‑ tell not me of mercy;‑

            This is the fool that lent out money gratis:‑

            Gaoler, look to him.

 

                                    ANTONIO

                                                Hear me yet, good Shylock.

 

                                    SHYLOCK

            I'll have my bond; speak not against my bond:

            I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond.

            Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause;

            But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs:

            The duke shall grant me justice.‑ I do wonder,

            Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond

            To come abroad with him at his request.

 

                                    ANTONIO

            I pray thee, hear me speak.

 

                                    SHYLOCK

            I'll have my bond; I will not hear thee speak:

            I'll have my bond; and therefore speak no more.

            I'll not be made a soft and dull‑eyed fool,

            To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield

            To Christian intercessors. Follow not;

            I'll have no speaking: I will have my bond.

 

                        [SHYLOCK exits.]

 

                                    SALARINO

            It is the most impenetrable cur

            That ever kept with men.

 

                                    ANTONIO

                                                       Let him alone:

            I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers.

            He seeks my life; his reason well I know:

            I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures

            Many that have at times made moan to me;

            Therefore he hates me.

 

                                    SALARINO

                                                I am sure the duke

            Will never grant this forfeiture to hold.

 

                                    ANTONIO

            The duke cannot deny the course of law;

            For the commodity that strangers have

            With us in Venice, if it be denied,

            Will much impeach the justice of the state;

            Since that the trade and profit of the city

            Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go:

            These griefs and losses have so bated me,

            That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh

            To‑morrow to my bloody creditor.‑

            Well, gaoler, on.‑ Pray God, Bassanio come

            To see me pay his debt,‑ and then I care not!

 

                        [ANTONIO, SALARINO, and GAOLER exit.]

​

Act III, Scene 4

                        [Belmont.  A room in Portia's house.  PORTIA enters with NERISSA,

                         LORENZO,JESSICA, and BALTHAZAR, a man of PORTIA's.]

 

                                    LORENZO

            Madam, although I speak it in your presence,

            You have a noble and a true conceit

            Of god‑like amity; which appears most strongly

            In bearing thus the absence of your lord.

            But if you knew to whom you show this honour,

            How true a gentleman you send relief,

            How dear a lover of my lord your husband,

            I know you would be prouder of the work

            Than customary bounty can enforce you.

 

                                    PORTIA

            I never did repent for doing good,

            Nor shall not now: for in companions

            That do converse and waste the time together,

            Whose souls do bear an egal yoke of love,

            There must be needs a like proportion

            Of lineaments, of manners, and of spirit;

            Which makes me think that this Antonio,

            Being the bosom lover of my lord,

            Must needs be like my lord. If it be so,

            How little is the cost I have bestow'd

            In purchasing the semblance of my soul

            From out the state of hellish cruelty!

            This comes too near the praising of myself;

            Therefore no more of it: hear other things.‑

            Lorenzo, I commit into your hands

            The husbandry and manage of my house

            Until my lord's return: for mine own part,

            I have toward heaven breathed a secret vow

            To live in prayer and contemplation,

            Only attended by Nerissa here,

            Until her husband and my lord's return:

            There is a monastery two miles off;

            And there will we abide. I do desire you

            Not to deny this imposition;

            The which my love and some necessity

            Now lays upon you.

 

                                    LORENZO

                                           Madam, with all my heart;

            I shall obey you in all fair commands.

 

                                    PORTIA

            My people do already know my mind,

            And will acknowledge you and Jessica

            In place of Lord Bassanio and myself.

            So fare you well, till we shall meet again.

 

                                    LORENZO

            Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you!

 

                                    JESSICA

            I wish your ladyship all heart's content.

 

                                    PORTIA

            I thank you for your wish, and am well pleased

            To wish it back on you: fare you well, Jessica.

 

                        [JESSICA and LORENZO exit.]

 

            Now, Balthazar,

            As I have ever found thee honest‑true,

            So let me find thee still. Take this same letter,

            And use thou all the endeavour of a man

            In speed to Padua: see thou render this

            Into my cousin's hand, Doctor Bellario;

            And, look, what notes and garments he doth give thee,

            Bring them, I pray thee, with imagined speed

            Unto the traject, to the common ferry

            Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words,

            But get thee gone: I shall be there before thee.

 

                                    BALTHAZAR

            Madam, I go with all convenient speed.

 

                        [BALTHAZAR exits.]

 

                                    PORTIA

            Come on, Nerissa; I have work in hand

            That you yet know not of: we'll see our husbands

            Before they think of us.

 

                                    NERISSA

                                                Shall they see us?

 

                                    PORTIA

            They shall, Nerissa; but in such a habit,

            That they shall think we are accomplished

            With that we lack. I'll hold thee any wager,

            When we are both accoutred like young men,

            I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two,

            And wear my dagger with the braver grace;

            And speak between the change of man and boy

            With a reed voice; and turn two mincing steps

            Into a manly stride; and speak of frays,

            Like a fine‑bragging youth; and tell quaint lies,

            How honourable ladies sought my love,

            Which I denying, they fell sick and died,‑

            I could not do withal;‑ then I'll repent,

            And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them:

            And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell;

            That men shall swear I have discontinued school

            Above a twelvemonth:‑ I have within my mind

            A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks,

            Which I will practise.

 

                                    NERISSA

                                                Why, shall we turn to men?

 

                                    PORTIA

            Fie, what a question's that,

            If thou wert near a lewd interpreter!

            But come, I'll tell thee all my whole device

            When I am in my coach, which stays for us

            At the park‑gate; and therefore haste away,

            For we must measure twenty miles to‑day.

 

                        [PORTIA and NERISA exit.]

Act III, Scene 5

                        [Portia's house.  A garden.  LAUNCELOT and JESSICA enter.]

 

                                    LAUNCELOT

            Yes, truly; for, look you, the sins of the father are to be

            laid upon the children: therefore, I promise ye, I fear you.

            I was always plain with you, and so now I speak my agitation

            of the matter: therefore be o'good cheer; for, truly, I

            think you are damn'd. There is but one hope in it that can

            do you any good; and that is but a kind of bastard hope neither.

 

                                    JESSICA

            And what hope is that, I pray thee?

 

                                    LAUNCELOT

            Marry, you may partly hope that your father got you not,‑

            that you are not the Jew's daughter.

 

                                    JESSICA

            That were a kind of bastard hope, indeed: so the sins of my

            mother should be visited upon me.

 

                                    LAUNCELOT

            Truly, then, I fear you are damn'd both by father and

            mother: thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I fall into

            Charybdis, your mother: well, you are gone both ways.

 

                                    JESSICA

            I shall be saved by my husband; he hath made me a Christian.

 

                                    LAUNCELOT

            Truly, the more to blame he: we were Christians enow before;

            e'en as many as could well live, one by another. This making

            of Christians will raise the price of hogs: if we grow all

            to be pork‑eaters, we shall not shortly have a rasher on the

            coals for money.

 

                                    JESSICA

            I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say: here he comes.

 

                        [LORENZO enters.]

 

                                    LORENZO

            I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot, if you thus

            get my wife into corners.

 

                                    JESSICA

            Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo: Launcelot and I are out.

            He tells me flatly, there's no mercy for me in heaven,

            because I am a Jew's daughter: and he says, you are no good

            member of the commonwealth; for, in converting Jews to

            Christians, you raise the price of pork.

 

                                    LORENZO

            I shall answer that better to the commonwealth than you can

            the getting up of the negro's belly: the Moor's with child

            by you, Launcelot.

 

                                    LAUNCELOT

            It is much that the Moor should be more than reason: but if

            she be less than an honest woman, she is indeed more than I

            took her for.

 

                                    LORENZO

            How every fool can play upon the word! I think the best

            grace of wit will shortly turn into silence, and discourse

            grow commendable in none only but parrots.‑ Go in, sirrah;

            bid them prepare for dinner.

 

                                    LAUNCELOT

            That's done, sir; they have all stomachs.

 

                                    LORENZO

            Goodly Lord, what a wit‑snapper are you! then bid them

            prepare dinner.

 

                                    LAUNCELOT

            That is done too, sir; only "cover" is the word

 

                                    LORENZO

            Will you cover, then, sir?

 

                                    LAUNCELOT

            Not so, sir, neither; I know my duty.

 

                                    LORENZO

            Yet more quarreling with occasion! Wilt thou show the whole

            wealth of thy wit in an instant? I pray thee, understand a

            plain man in his plain meaning: go to thy fellows, bid them

            cover the table, serve in the meat, and we will come in to dinner.

 

                                    LAUNCELOT

            For the table, sir, it shall be served in; for the meat,

            sir, it shall be cover'd; for your coming in to dinner, sir,

            why, let it be as humours and conceits shall govern.    

 

                        [LAUNCELOT exits.]

 

                                    LORENZO

            O dear discretion, how his words are suited!

            The fool hath planted in his memory

            An army of good words; and I do know

            A many fools, that stand in better place,

            Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word

            Defy the matter.‑ How cheer'st thou, Jessica?

            And now, good sweet, say thy opinion,‑

            How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio's wife?

 

                                    JESSICA

            Past all expressing. It is very meet

            The Lord Bassanio live an upright life;

            For, having such a blessing in his lady,

            He finds the joys of heaven here on earth;

            And if on earth he do not mean it, then

            In reason he should never come to heaven.

            Why, if two gods should play some heavenly match,

            And on the wager lay two earthly women,

            And Portia one, there must be something else

            Pawn'd with the other; for the poor rude world

            Hath not her fellow.

 

                                    LORENZO

                                           Even such a husband

            Hast thou of me as she is for a wife.

 

                                    JESSICA

            Nay, but ask my opinion too of that.

 

                                    LORENZO

            I will anon: first, let us go to dinner.

 

                                    JESSICA

            Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach.

 

                                    LORENZO

            No, prithee, let it serve for table‑talk;

            Then, howsoe'er thou speak'st, 'mong other things

            I shall digest it.

 

                                    JESSICA

                                    Well, I'll set you forth.

 

                        [LORENZO and JESSICA exit.]

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