The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  Is like a villain with a smiling cheek,

  A goodly apple rotten at the heart.

  O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!

  SHYLOCK

  Three thousand ducats. ’Tis a good round sum.

  Three months from twelve—then let me see the rate.

  ANTONIO

  Well, Shylock, shall we be beholden to you?

  SHYLOCK

  Signor Antonio, many a time and oft

  In the Rialto you have rated me

  About my moneys and my usances.

  Still have I borne it with a patient shrug,

  For suff‘rance is the badge of all our tribe.

  You call me misbeliever, cut-throat, dog, 110

  And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine,

  And all for use of that which is mine own.

  Well then, it now appears you need my help.

  Go to, then. You come to me, and you say

  ‘Shylock, we would have moneys‘—you say so,

  You, that did void your rheum upon my beard,

  And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur

  Over your threshold. Moneys is your suit.

  What should I say to you? Should I not say

  ‘Hath a dog money? Is it possible

  A cur can lend three thousand ducats?’ Or

  Shall I bend low, and in a bondman’s key,

  With bated breath and whisp’ring humbleness

  Say this:‘Fair sir, you spat on me on Wednesday last;

  You spurned me such a day; another time

  You called me dog; and for these courtesies

  I’ll lend you thus much moneys’?

  ANTONIO

  I am as like to call thee so again,

  To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too.

  If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not

  As to thy friends; for when did friendship take

  A breed for barren metal of his friend?

  But lend it rather to thine enemy,

  Who if he break, thou mayst with better face

  Exact the penalty.

  SHYLOCK Why, look you, how you storm I

  I would be friends with you, and have your love,

  Forget the shames that you have stained me with,

  Supply your present wants, and take no doit

  Of usance for my moneys; and you’ll not hear me.

  This is kind I offer.

  BASSANIO This were kindness.

  SHYLOCK This kindness will I show.

  Go with me to a notary, seal me there

  Your single bond, and, in a merry sport,

  If you repay me not on such a day,

  In such a place, such sum or sums as are

  Expressed in the condition, let the forfeit

  Be nominated for an equal pound

  Of your fair flesh to be cut off and taken

  In what part of your body pleaseth me.

  ANTONIO

  Content, in faith. I’ll seal to such a bond,

  And say there is much kindness in the Jew.

  BASSANIO

  You shall not seal to such a bond for me.

  I’ll rather dwell in my necessity.

  ANTONIO

  Why, fear not, man; I will not forfeit it.

  Within these two months—that’s a month before

  This bond expires—I do expect return

  Of thrice three times the value of this bond.

  SHYLOCK

  O father Abram, what these Christians are,

  Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect 160

  The thoughts of others! (To Bassanio) Pray you tell me

  this:

  If he should break his day, what should I gain

  By the exaction of the forfeiture?

  A pound of man’s flesh taken from a man

  Is not so estimable, profitable neither,

  As flesh of muttons, beeves, or goats. I say,

  To buy his favour I extend this friendship.

  If he will take it, so. If not, adieu,

  And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not.

  ANTONIO

  Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond.

  SHYLOCK

  Then meet me forthwith at the notary’s.

  Give him direction for this merry bond,

  And I will go and purse the ducats straight,

  See to my house—left in the fearful guard

  Of an unthrifty knave—and presently

  I’ll be with you.

  ANTONIO Hie thee, gentle Jew. Exit Shylock

  The Hebrew will turn Christian; he grows kind.

  BASSANIO

  I like not fair terms and a villain’s mind.

  ANTONIO

  Come on. In this there can be no dismay.

  My ships come home a month before the day. Exeunt

  2.1 ⌈Flourish of cornetts.⌉ Enter the Prince of Morocco, a tawny Moor all in white, and three or four followers accordingly, with Portia, Nerissa, and their train

  MOROCCO (to Portia)

  Mislike me not for my complexion,

  The shadowed livery of the burnished sun,

  To whom I am a neighbour and near bred.

  Bring me the fairest creature northward born,

  Where Phoebus’ 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

  Hath feared the valiant. By my love I swear,

  The best regarded virgins of our clime

  Have loved it too. I would not change this hue

  Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen.

  PORTIA

  In terms of choice I am not solely led

  By nice direction of a maiden’s eyes.

  Besides, the lott’ry of my destiny

  Bars me the right of voluntary choosing.

  But if my father had not scanted me,

  And hedged 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

  As any comer I have looked on yet

  For my affection.

  MOROCCO Even for that I thank you.

  Therefore I pray you lead me to the caskets

  To try my fortune. By this scimitar,

  That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince

  That won three fields of Sultan Suleiman,

  I would o’erstare the sternest eyes that look,

  Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth,

  Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear,

  Yea, mock the lion when a roars for prey,

  To win the lady. But alas the while,

  If Hercules and Lichas play at dice

  Which is the better man, the greater throw

  May turn by fortune from the weaker hand.

  So is Alcides beaten by his rage,

  And so may I, blind Fortune leading me,

  Miss that which one unworthier may attain,

  And die with grieving.

  PORTIA You must take your chance,

  And either not attempt to choose at all,

  Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong

  Never to speak to lady afterward

  In way of marriage. Therefore be advised.

  MOROCCO

  Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my chance.

  PORTIA

  First, forward to the temple. After dinner

  Your hazard shall be made.

  MOROCCO Good fortune then,

  To make me blest or cursèd’st among men.

  ⌈Flourish of cornetts.⌉ Exeunt

  2.2 Enter Lancelot the clown

  LANCELOT 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, Lancelot Gobbo, good Lancelot,’ or ‘good Gobbo,’ or ‘good Lancelot Gobbo—use your legs,
take the start, run away.’ My conscience says ‘No, take heed, honest Lancelot, take heed, honest Gobbo,’ or, as aforesaid, ‘honest Lancelot 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 mind,’ says the fiend, ‘and run.’ Well, my conscience hanging about the neck of my heart says very wisely to me, ‘My honest friend Lancelot’—being an honest man’s son, or rather an honest woman’s son, for indeed my father did something smack, something grow to; he had a kind of taste—well, my conscience says, ‘Lancelot, budge not’; ‘Budge!’ says the fiend; ‘Budge 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, 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 conscience, my conscience is but a kind of hard conscience 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 commandment. I will run.

  Enter old Gobbo, ⌈blind,⌉ with a basket

  GOBBO Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the way to Master Jew’s ?

  LANCELOT (aside) O heavens, this is my true-begotten father who, being more than sand-blind—high-gravel-blind—knows me not. I will try confusions with him.

  GOBBO Master young gentleman, I pray you which is the way to Master Jew’s ?

  LANCELOT 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 of no hand but turn down indirectly to the Jew’s house.

  GOBBO By God’s sonties, ’twill be a hard way to hit. Can you tell me whether one Lancelot that dwells with him dwell with him or no?

  LANCELOT Talk you of young Master Lancelot? (Aside) Mark me now, now will I raise the waters. (To Gobbo) Talk you of young Master Lancelot?

  GOBBO No master, sir, but a poor man’s son. His father, though I say’t, is an honest exceeding poor man, and, God be thanked, well to live.

  LANCELOT Well, let his father be what a will, we talk of young Master Lancelot.

  GOBBO Your worship’s friend, and Lancelot, sir.

  LANCELOT But I pray you, ergo old man, ergo I beseech you, talk you of young Master Lancelot?

  GOBBO Of Lancelot, an’t please your mastership.

  LANCELOT Ergo Master Lancelot. Talk not of Master Lancelot, father, for the young gentleman, according to fates and destinies and such odd sayings—the sisters three and such branches of learning—is indeed deceased; or, as you would say in plain terms, gone to heaven.

  GOBBO Marry, God forbid The boy was the very staff of my age, my very prop.

  LANCELOT ⌈aside⌉ Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or a prop? (To Gobbo) Do you know me, father?

  GOBBO Alack the day, I know you not, young gentleman.

  But I pray you tell me, is my boy-God rest his soul—

  alive or dead?

  LANCELOT Do you not know me, father?

  GOBBO Alack, sir, I am sand-blind. I know you not.

  LANCELOT 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, I will tell you news of your son. (Kneeling) Give me your blessing. Truth will come to light; murder cannot be hid long—a man’s son may, but in the end truth will out.

  GOBBO Pray you, sir, stand up. I am sure you are not Lancelot, my boy.

  LANCELOT Pray you, let’s have no more fooling about it, but give me your blessing. I am Lancelot, your boy that was, your son that is, your child that shall be. 81

  GOBBO I cannot think you are my son.

  LANCELOT I know not what I shall think of that, but I am Lancelot the Jew’s man, and I am sure Margery your wife is my mother.

  GOBBO Her name is Margery indeed. I’ll be sworn, if thou be Lancelot thou art mine own flesh and blood.He feels Lancelot’s head

  Lord worshipped might he be, what a beard hast thou got! Thou hast got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my fill-horse has on his tail. 90

  LANCELOT It should seem then that Dobbin’s tail grows backward. I am sure he had more hair of his tail than I have of my face when I last saw him.

  GOBBO Lord, how art thou changed! How dost thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a present. How ’gree you now?

  LANCELOT Well, well; but for mine own part, as 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 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 as God has any ground.Enter Bassanio with Leonardo and followers

  O rare fortune! Here comes the man. To him, father, for I am a Jew if I serve the Jew any longer.

  BASSANIO (toone of his men) You may do so, but let it be so hasted that supper be ready at the farthest by five of the clock. See these letters delivered, put the liveries to making, and desire Graziano to come anon to my lodging. Exit one

  LANCELOT (to Gobbo) To him, father.

  GOBBO (to Bassanio) God bless your worship.

  BASSANIO Gramercy. Wouldst thou aught with me? 115

  GOBBO Here’s my son, sir, a poor boy—

  LANCELOT (to Bassanio) Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew’s man that would, sir, as my father shall specify.

  GOBBO (to Bassiano) He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to serve—

  LANCELOT Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, and have a desire as my father shall specify.

  GOBBO (to Bassiano) His master and he, saving your worship’s reverence, are scarce cater-cousins.

  LANCELOT (to Bassiano) To be brief, the very truth is that the Jew, having done me wrong, doth cause me, as my father—being, I hope, an old man—shall frutify unto you.

  GOBBO (to Bassiano) I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow upon your worship, and my suit is—

  LANCELOT (to Bassiano) In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself, as your worship shall know by this honest old man; and though I say it, though old man, yet, poor man, my father.

  BASSANIO One speak for both. What would you?

  LANCELOT Serve you, sir.

  GOBBO (to Bassiano) That is the very defect of the matter, sir.

  BASSANIO (to Lancelot)

  I know thee well. Thou hast obtained thy suit.

  Shylock thy master spoke with me this day,

  And hath preferred thee, if it be preferment

  To leave a rich Jew’s service to become

  The follower of so poor a gentleman.

  LANCELOT The old proverb is very well parted between my master Shylock and you, sir: you have the grace of God, sir, and he hath enough.

  BASSANIO

  Thou speak‘st it well. (To Gobbo) Go, father, with thy son.

  (To Lancelot) Take leave of thy old master and enquire

  My lodging out. (To one of his men) Give him a livery

  More guarded than his fellows’. See it done. 150

  LANCELOT (to Gobbo) Father, in. I cannot get a service, no, I have ne’er a tongue in my head—well!He looks at 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—a[as, fifteen wives is nothing. Eleven 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 featherbed—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. Exit with old Gobbo

  BASSANIO

  I pray t
hee, good Leonardo, think on this.

  These things being bought and orderly bestowed,

  Return in haste, for I do feast tonight

  My best-esteemed acquaintance. Hie thee. Go.

  LEONARDO

  My best endeavours shall be done herein.

  He begins to leave. Enter Graziano

  GRAZIANO (to Leonardo)

  Where’s your master?

  LEONARDO Yonder, sir, he walks. Exit

  GRAZIANO

  Signor Bassanio.

  BASSANIO Graziano.

  GRAZIANO

  I have a suit to you.

  BASSANIO You have obtained it.

  GRAZIANO

  You must not deny me. I must go with you to Belmont.

  BASSANIO

  Why then, you must. But hear thee, Graziano,

  Thou art too wild, too rude and bold of voice-

  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

  To allay with some cold drops of modesty

  Thy skipping spirit, lest through thy wild behaviour

  I be misconstered in the place I go to, 180

  And lose my hopes.

  GRAZIANO Signor Bassanio, hear me.

  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 185

  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.

  BASSANIO Well, we shall see your bearing.

  GRAZIANO

  Nay, but I bar tonight. You shall not gauge me

  By what we do tonight.

  BASSANIO No, that were pity.

  I would entreat you rather to put on

  Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends

  That purpose merriment. But fare you well.

  I have some business.

  GRAZIANO

  And I must to Lorenzo and the rest.

  But we will visit you at supper-time. Exeunt severally

  2.3 Enter Jessica and Lancelot., the clown