The Works of Shakspeare

indeed, gives rare new liveries; if I serve not him, I will run as far 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 LEONARDO, and other
Followers.

Bass. 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 deliver'd; put the liveries to making; and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging. [Exit a Servant.

Laun. To him, father. Gob. God bless your worship! Bass. Gramercy; Would'st thou aught with me? 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,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 I have a desire, as my father shall specify,

Gob. His master and he, (saving your worship's reverence,) are scarce cater-cousins:

Laun. 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,

Gob. I have here a dish of doves, that I 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 honest old man; and, though I say it, though old man, yet, poor man, my father.

Bass. One speak for both ;-What would you? Laua. Serve you, sir.

Gob. This 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, 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 between my master Shylock and you, sir; you have the grace of God, sir, aud he hath enough.

Bass. Thou speak'st it well: Go, father, with
thy son:-

Take leave of thy old master, and enquire
My lodging out:-Give him a livery

(To his Followers.) 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; (looking 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: Alas, 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 feather-bed ;-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. [Exeunt Launcelot and old Gobbo. Bass. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this; These things being bought, and orderly bestow'd, Return in haste, for I do feast to-night My best esteem'd acquaintance; hie thee, go. Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein. Enter GRATIANO. Gra. Where is your master? Leon.

Yonder, sir, he walks. [Exit Leonardo.

Gra. You must not deny me; I must go with you to Belmont. [Gratiano; Bass. Why, then you must;-But hear thee, 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 are 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 misconstrued in the place I go to, And lose my hopes.

Gra. Signior 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 Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say, amen; Use all the observance of civility, Like one well studied in a sad ostent

And so farewell; I would not have my father See me talk with thee.

Laun. Adieu!-tears exhibit my tongue.Most beautiful pagan,-most sweet Jew! If a Christian do not play the knave, and get thee, I am much 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,
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: 0 Lorenzo,
If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife;
Become a Christian, and thy loving wife.
SCENE IV. The same. A Street.
Enter GRATIANO, Lorenzo, SALARINO, and
SALANIO.

[Exit.

Lor. Nay, we will slink away at supper-time; Disguise us at my lodging, and return

in an

Gra. We have not made good preparation. Sular. We have not spoke us yet of torchbearers.

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 To furnish us;—

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,
I will not fail her!-speak it privately; go.-
Gentlemen,
[Exit Launcelot.
Will you prepare you for this masque to-night?
I am provided of a torch-bearer.

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.

[Exeunt Salar and Salan.
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;
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,
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.

[Exeunt. SCENE V.-The same. Before Shylock's house.

The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio:
What, Jessica!-thou shalt not gormandize,
As thou hast done with me ;-What, Jessica!-
And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out :
Why, Jessica, I say!

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,
With that keen appetite that he sits down?
Where is the horse, that doth untread again
His tedious measures with the unbated fire
That he did pace them first? All things that are,
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd.
How like a younker, or a prodigal,

Enter SHYLOCK and LAUNCELOT.

Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy The scarfed bark puts from her native bay,

judge,

Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind!
How like the prodigal doth she return;
With over-weather'd ribs, and ragged sails,
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind!

Enter LORENZO.

Laun.

Why, Jessica!

Shy. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call. Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me, I could do nothing without bidding.

Snail-low in profit, and he sleeps by day
More than the wild cat; drones hive not with me;
Therefore I part with him; and part with him
To one, that I would have him help to waste
His borrow'd purse.-Well, Jessica, go in;
Perhaps, I will return immediately;
Do, as I bid you,

Shut doors after you: Fast bind, fast find;
A proverb never stale in thrifty mind.

[Exit.

Jes. Farewell; and if my fortune be not crost,
I have a father, you a daughter, lost. [Exit.
SCENE VI.-The same.

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?
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;
There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest,
For I did dream of money-bags to-night.

Enter GRATIANO and SALARINO, masqued.
Gra. This is the pent-house, under which Lo-
Desir'd us to make stand.
[renzo
Salar.
His hour is almost past.
Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour,
For lovers ever run before the clock.

Salar. Here comes Lorenzo ;-more of this here-
after.
[abode;
Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for my long
Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait:
When you shall please to play the thieves for wives,
I'll watch as long for you then.-Approach;
Here dwells my father Jew:-Ho! who's within?

Enter JESSICA above, in boy's clothes.

Jes. Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty,
Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue.

Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love.

Jes. Lorenzo, certain; and my love, indeed;
For who 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.
[pains.
Jes. Here, catch this casket; it is worth the
am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me,
For I am much asham'd of my exchange:
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see
The pretty follies that themselves commit;
For if they could, Cupid himself would blush
To see me thus transformed to a boy.

Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer.
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.

Laun. I beseech you, sir, go; my young master doth expect your reproach.

Shy. So do I his.

Laun. And they have conspired together,-II
will not say, you shall see a masque; but if you do,
then it was not for nothing that my nose fell 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.
[Jessica:

Shy. What! are there masques? Hear you me,
Lock up my doors: and when you hear the drum,
And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fife,
Clamber not you up to the casements then,
Nor thrust your head into the public street,
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,
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 ont at window, for all this;
There will come a Christian by,
Will be worth a Jewess' eye.

[Exit Laun.
Shy. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha?
Jes. His words were, Farewell, mistress; no-
thing else.
[feeder,
Shy. The patch is kind enough; but a huge

So are you, sweet,
Even in the lovely garnish cf a boy.
But come at once;

For the close night doth play the runaway,
And we are staid for at Bassanio's feast.

Jes. will make fast the doors, and gild myself
With some more ducats, and be with you straight.
[Exit, from above.
Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew.
Lor. Beshrew me, but I love her heartily,
For she is wise, if I can judge of her;
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true;
And true she is, as she hath prov'd herself;
And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true,
Shall she be placed in my constant soul.

Enter JESSICA, below.

What, art thou come?-On, gentlemen, away;
Our masquing mates by this time for us stay.
[Exit with Jessica andSalarino.
Enter ANTONIO.

Ant. Who's there?
Gra. Signior Antonio?

Ant. Fy, fy, Gratiano! where are all the rest?
Tis nine o'clock: our friends all stay for you:-
No masque to-night; the wind is come
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. [Exeunt. SCENE VII.-Belmont. A Room in Portia's House. Flourish of Cornets. Enter PORTIA, with the PRINCE OF MOROCCO, and both their Trains.

Por. Go, draw aside the curtains, and discover The several caskets to this noble prince :Now make your choice.

[bears;Mor. The first, of gold who this inscription Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire, The second, silver, which this promise carries ;Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves. This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt ;Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath. How shall I know if I do choose the right?

Por. The one of them contains my picture, prince; If you chose that, then I am yours withal.

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.
Mast give-For what? for lead? hazard for lead?
This casket threatens Men, that hazard all,
Do it in hope of fair advantages:

A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross;
I'll then nor give, nor hazard, aught for lead.
What says the silver, with her virgin hue?
Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves.
As much as he deserves?-Pause there, Morocco,
And weigh thy value with an even hand :
If thou be'st rated by thy estimation,
Thou dost deserve enough; and yet enough
May not extend so far as to the lady;
And yet to be afeard of my deserving,
Were but a weak disabling of myself.
As much as I deserve!-Why, that's the lady;
I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes,
In graces, and in qualities of breeding;
But more than these, in love I do deserve.
What if I stray'd no further, but chose here?-
Let's see once more this saying grav'd in gold:
Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire.
Why, that's the lady: all the world desires her':
From the four corners of the earth they come,
To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint.
The Hyrcanian deserts, and the vasty wilds
Of wide Arabia, are as through-fares now,
For princes to come view fair Portia :
The wat'ry kingdom, whose ambitious head
Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar
To stop the foreign spirits; but they come,
As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia.
One of these three contains her heavenly picture.
Is't like, that lead contains her? 'Twere damnation,
To think so base a thought; it were too gross
To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave.
Or shall I think, in silver she's immur'd,
Being ten times undervalued to try'd 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
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!

Por. There, take it, prince; and if my form lie there,

Then I am yours. (He unlocks the golden casket.)
Mor. O hell! what have we here?
A carrion death, within whose empty eye
There is a written scroll? I'll read the writing.

All that glisters is not gold,

Often have you heard that told:
Many a man his life hath sold,
But
my
outside to behold:
Gilded tombs do worms infold.
Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgment old,
Your answer had not been inscrol'd:
Fare you well; your suit is cold.
Cold, indeed; and labour lost;

Then, farewell, heat; and, welcome, frost.-
Portia, adieu! I have too griev'd a heart
To take a tedious leave: thus losers part. [Exit.
Por. A gentle riddance :-Draw the curtains,
go;-

Let all of his complexion choose me so. [Exeunt.

SCENE VIII.-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 am sure, Lorenzo is not. Salan. The villain Jew with outcries rais'd the duke;

Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship.

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 Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica: Besides, Antonio certify'd the duke, They were not with Bassanio in his ship.

Salan. I never heard a passion so confus'd, So strange, outrageous, and so variable, As the dog Jew did utter in the streets: My daughter!-O my ducats!—O my daughter! Fled with a Christian?-O my christian ducats! Justice! the law! my ducats, and my daughter! A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats, Of double ducats, stol'n from me by my daughter! And jewels; two stones, two rich and precious stones, Stol'n by my daughter!-Justice! find the girl! She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats!

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

And quicken his embraced heaviness
With some delight or other,

Salar.
Do we so. [Exeunt.
SCENE IX.-Belmont. A Room in Portia's House.
Enter NERISSA, with a Servant.

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.

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

Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince: If you choose that wherein I am contain❜d, Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemniz'd; But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, You must be gone from hence immediately.

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 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.

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,
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.
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,

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,
And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.
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:
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.

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?
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,
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 the key for this,
And instantly unlock my fortunes here. [there.
Por. Too long a pause for that, which you find
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?
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?
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, That did never choose amiss: Some there be, that shadows kiss; Such have but a shadow's bliss: There be fools alive, I wis,

Silver'd o'er; and so was this.
Take what wife you will to bed,
I will ever be your head:
So begone, sir, you are sped.

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.Sweet, adieu! I'll keep my oath, Patiently to bear my wroth. [Exeunt Arragon and train. Por. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth. O these deliberate fools! when they do choose, 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. Enter a Servant.

Serv. Where is my lady?

Por.

Here; what would my lord? Serv. Madam, there is alighted at your gate A young Venetian, one, that comes before To signify the approaching of his lord: 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: To show how costly summer was at hand, A day in April never came so sweet, As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord.

Por. No more, I pray thee; I am half afeard, Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him.— Thou wilt say anon, he is some kin to thee, Come, come, Nerissa; for I long to see Quick Cupid's post, that comes so mannerly. Ner. Bassanio, lord love, if thy will it be! [Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I.-Venice. A Street.
Enter SALANIO and SALARINO.

Salan. Now, what news on the Rialto?

Salar. Why, yet it lives there uncheck'd, that Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wreck'd on the narrow seas; the Goodwins, think they call the place; a very dangerous flat, and fatal, where the carcases of many a tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossip report be an honest woman of her word.

Salan. 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 high-way of talk,-that the good, good enough to keep his name company! Antonio, the honest Antonio,--O that I had a title Salar. Come, the full stop.

Salan. Ha,-what say'st thou ?-Why, the end is, he hath lost a ship.

Salar. I would it might prove the end of his losses! Salan. Let me say amen betimes, lest the devil cross my prayer; for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew.

Enter SHYLOCK.

How now, Shylock? what news among the merchants?

Shy. You knew, none so well, none so well as you, of my daughter's flight.

Salar. That's certain; I, for my part, knew the tailor that made the wings she flew withal.

Salan. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was fledg'd; and then it is the complexion of them all to leave the dam.

Shy. She is damn'd for it.

Salar. That's certain, if the devil may be her judge. Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel!

Salan. Oat upon it, old carrion! rebels it at these years?

Shy. I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood.

Salar. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his flesh; What's that good for?

Shy. To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered me of half a million; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned 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, burt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled 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.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house, and desires to speak with you both. Salar. We have been up and down to seek him. Enter TOBAL.

Salan. Here comes another of the tribe; a third cannot be matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew. [Exeunt Salan. Salar. and Servant. Shy. How now, Tubal, what news from Genoa? hast thou found my daughter?

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

Shy. Why there, there, there, there! a diamond gone, cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort! The curse never fell upon our nation till now; 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 hears'd at my foot, and the ducats in her coffia! 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 mach, and so much to find the thief; and no satis faction, no revenge: nor no ill luck stirring, but what lights o' my shoulders; no sighs, but o' my breathing; no tears, but o' my shedding.

Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too; Antonio as I heard in Genoa,

Shy. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck? Tub. hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis. [it true? Shy. I thank God, I thank God:-Is it true? is Tab. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wreck.

Shy. I thank thee, good Tubal;-Good news, good news: ha! ha!-Where? in Genoa? Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, one night, fourscore ducats!

Sky. Thou stick'st a dagger in me :- -I shall never see my gold again: Fourscore ducats at a sitting! fourscore ducats!

Tub. There came divers of Antonio's creditors in By company to Venice, that swear he cannot choose bat break.

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

Tub. One of them showed me a ring, that he had of your daughter for a monkey.

Shy. 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,

Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone.

Shy. 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 merchandize I will: Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue; go, good Tubal; at our synagogue, Tubal." [Exeunt. SCENE II.-Belmont. A Room in Portia's House. Enter BASSANIO, PORTIA, GRATIANO, NERISSA,

and Attendants. The caskets are set out. Por. I pray you, tarry; pause a day or two, Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong, I lose your company; therefore, forbear a while: 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'er-look'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.

Bass.

Let me choose; For as I am, I live upon the rack. Por. Upon the rack, Bassanio? then confess What treason there is mingled with your love.

Bass. None, but that ugly treason of mistrust, Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love: There may as well be amity and life "Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love.

Por. Ay, but I fear, you speak upon the rack, Where men enforced do speak any thing.

Bass, Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth.
Por. Well then, confess, and live.
Bass.

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.

Por. 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 wat'ry 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,

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The Works of Shakspeare: From the Text of Johnson, Steevens, and Reed