Complete Plays, The

by William Shakespeare

  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 tranect, to the common ferry

  Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words,

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

  Balthasar

  Madam, I go with all convenient speed.

  Exit

  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 killed 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.

  Exeunt

  SCENE V. THE SAME. A GARDEN.

  Enter Launcelot and Jessica

  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 of good cheer, for truly I think you are damned. 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 damned 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 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.

  Enter Lorenzo

  Jessica

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

  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 is 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 is 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 is 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 quarrelling with occasion! Wilt thou show the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant? I pray tree, 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 covered; for your coming in to dinner, sir, why, let it be as humours and conceits shall govern.

  Exit

  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 cheerest 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, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk;

  ’ Then, howso’er thou speak’st, ’mong other things

  I shall digest it.

  Jessica

  Well, I’ll set you forth.

  Exeunt

  ACT IV

  SCENE I. VENICE. A COURT OF JUSTICE.

  Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Antonio, Bassanio, Gratiano, Salanio, and others

  Duke

  What, is Antonio here?

  Antonio

  Ready, so please your grace.

  Duke

  I am sorry for thee: thou art come to answer

  A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch

  Uncapable of pity, void and empty

  From any dram of mercy.

  Antonio

  I have heard

  Your grace hath ta’en great pains to qualify

  His rigorous course; but since he s
tands obdurate

  And that no lawful means can carry me

  Out of his envy’s reach, I do oppose

  My patience to his fury, and am arm’d

  To suffer, with a quietness of spirit,

  The very tyranny and rage of his.

  Duke

  Go one, and call the Jew into the court.

  Salanio

  He is ready at the door: he comes, my lord.

  Enter Shylock

  Duke

  Make room, and let him stand before our face.

  Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too,

  That thou but lead’st this fashion of thy malice

  To the last hour of act; and then ’tis thought

  Thou’lt show thy mercy and remorse more strange

  Than is thy strange apparent cruelty;

  And where thou now exact’st the penalty,

  Which is a pound of this poor merchant’s flesh,

  Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture,

  But, touch’d with human gentleness and love,

  Forgive a moiety of the principal;

  Glancing an eye of pity on his losses,

  That have of late so huddled on his back,

  Enow to press a royal merchant down

  And pluck commiseration of his state

  From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint,

  From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train’d

  To offices of tender courtesy.

  We all expect a gentle answer, Jew.

  Shylock

  I have possess’d your grace of what I purpose;

  And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn

  To have the due and forfeit of my bond:

  If you deny it, let the danger light

  Upon your charter and your city’s freedom.

  You’ll ask me, why I rather choose to have

  A weight of carrion flesh than to receive

  Three thousand ducats: I’ll not answer that:

  But, say, it is my humour: is it answer’d?

  What if my house be troubled with a rat

  And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats

  To have it baned? What, are you answer’d yet?

  Some men there are love not a gaping pig;

  Some, that are mad if they behold a cat;

  And others, when the bagpipe sings i’ the nose,

  Cannot contain their urine: for affection,

  Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood

  Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer:

  As there is no firm reason to be render’d,

  Why he cannot abide a gaping pig;

  Why he, a harmless necessary cat;

  Why he, a woollen bagpipe; but of force

  Must yield to such inevitable shame

  As to offend, himself being offended;

  So can I give no reason, nor I will not,

  More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing

  I bear Antonio, that I follow thus

  A losing suit against him. Are you answer’d?

  Bassanio

  This is no answer, thou unfeeling man,

  To excuse the current of thy cruelty.

  Shylock

  I am not bound to please thee with my answers.

  Bassanio

  Do all men kill the things they do not love?

  Shylock

  Hates any man the thing he would not kill?

  Bassanio

  Every offence is not a hate at first.

  Shylock

  What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice?

  Antonio

  I pray you, think you question with the Jew:

  You may as well go stand upon the beach

  And bid the main flood bate his usual height;

  You may as well use question with the wolf

  Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb;

  You may as well forbid the mountain pines

  To wag their high tops and to make no noise,

  When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven;

  You may as well do anything most hard,

  As seek to soften that — than which what’s harder?—

  His Jewish heart: therefore, I do beseech you,

  Make no more offers, use no farther means,

  But with all brief and plain conveniency

  Let me have judgment and the Jew his will.

  Bassanio

  For thy three thousand ducats here is six.

  Shylock

  What judgment shall I dread, doing

  Were in six parts and every part a ducat,

  I would not draw them; I would have my bond.

  Duke

  How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none?

  Shylock

  What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong?

  You have among you many a purchased slave,

  Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules,

  You use in abject and in slavish parts,

  Because you bought them: shall I say to you,

  Let them be free, marry them to your heirs?

  Why sweat they under burthens? let their beds

  Be made as soft as yours and let their palates

  Be season’d with such viands? You will answer

  ‘The slaves are ours:’ so do I answer you:

  The pound of flesh, which I demand of him,

  Is dearly bought; ’tis mine and I will have it.

  If you deny me, fie upon your law!

  There is no force in the decrees of Venice.

  I stand for judgment: answer; shall I have it?

  Duke

  Upon my power I may dismiss this court,

  Unless Bellario, a learned doctor,

  Whom I have sent for to determine this,

  Come here to-day.

  Salanio

  My lord, here stays without

  A messenger with letters from the doctor,

  New come from Padua.

  Duke

  Bring us the letter; call the messenger.

  Bassanio

  Good cheer, Antonio! What, man, courage yet!

  The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones and all,

  Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood.

  Antonio

  I am a tainted wether of the flock,

  Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit

  Drops earliest to the ground; and so let me

  You cannot better be employ’d, Bassanio,

  Than to live still and write mine epitaph.

  Enter Nerissa, dressed like a lawyer’s clerk

  Duke

  Came you from Padua, from Bellario?

  Nerissa

  From both, my lord. Bellario greets your grace.

  Presenting a letter

  Bassanio

  Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?

  Shylock

  To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there.

  Gratiano

  Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,

  Thou makest thy knife keen; but no metal can,

  No, not the hangman’s axe, bear half the keenness

  Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee?

  Shylock

  No, none that thou hast wit enough to make.

  Gratiano

  O, be thou damn’d, inexecrable dog!

  And for thy life let justice be accused.

  Thou almost makest me waver in my faith

  To hold opinion with Pythagoras,

  That souls of animals infuse themselves

  Into the trunks of men: thy currish spirit

  Govern’d a wolf, who, hang’d for human slaughter,

  Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet,

  And, whilst thou lay’st in thy unhallow’d dam,

  Infused itself in thee; for thy desires

  Are wolvish, bloody, starved and ravenous.

  Shylock

  Till thou c
anst rail the seal from off my bond,

  Thou but offend’st thy lungs to speak so loud:

  Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall

  To cureless ruin. I stand here for law.

  Duke

  This letter from Bellario doth commend

  A young and learned doctor to our court.

  Where is he?

  Nerissa

  He attendeth here hard by,

  To know your answer, whether you’ll admit him.

  Duke

  With all my heart. Some three or four of you

  Go give him courteous conduct to this place.

  Meantime the court shall hear Bellario’s letter.

  Clerk

  [Reads] Your grace shall understand that at the receipt of your letter I am very sick: but in the instant that your messenger came, in loving visitation was with me a young doctor of Rome; his name is Balthasar. I acquainted him with the cause in controversy between the Jew and Antonio the merchant: we turned o’er many books together: he is furnished with my opinion; which, bettered with his own learning, the greatness whereof I cannot enough commend, comes with him, at my importunity, to fill up your grace’s request in my stead. I beseech you, let his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a reverend estimation; for I never knew so young a body with so old a head. I leave him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his commendation.

  Duke

  You hear the learn’d Bellario, what he writes:

  And here, I take it, is the doctor come.

  Enter Portia, dressed like a doctor of laws

  Give me your hand. Come you from old Bellario?

  Portia

  I did, my lord.

  Duke

  You are welcome: take your place.

  Are you acquainted with the difference

  That holds this present question in the court?

  Portia

  I am informed thoroughly of the cause.

  Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew?

  Duke

  Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth.

  Portia

  Is your name Shylock?

  Shylock

  Shylock is my name.

  Portia

  Of a strange nature is the suit you follow;

  Yet in such rule that the Venetian law

  Cannot impugn you as you do proceed.

  You stand within his danger, do you not?

  Antonio

  Ay, so he says.

  Portia

  Do you confess the bond?

  Antonio

  I do.

  Portia

  Then must the Jew be merciful.

  Shylock

  On what compulsion must I? tell me that.

  Portia

  The quality of mercy is not strain’d,

  It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

  Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;

  It blesseth him that gives and him that takes: