About my moneys and my usances:
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug,
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe.
You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog,
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 whispering humbleness, Say this;
‘Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last;
You spurn’d me such a day; another time
You call’d 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 would be friends with you and have your love,
Forget the shames that you have stain’d 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
Express’d 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, i’ 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
The thoughts of others! 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, beefs, 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 will 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
ACT II
SCENE I. BELMONT. A ROOM IN PORTIA’S HOUSE.
Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince Of Morocco and his train; Portia, Nerissa, and others attending
Morocco
Mislike me not for my complexion,
The shadow’d livery of the burnish’d sun,
To whom I am a neighbour and near bred.
Bring me the fairest creature northward born,
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 fear’d 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 lottery 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 look’d 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 Solyman,
I would outstare 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 he roars for prey,
To win thee, 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 page;
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 cursed’st among men.
Cornets, and exeunt
SCENE II. VENICE. A STREET.
Enter Launcelot
Launcelot
Certainly my conscience will serve me to run from this Jew my master. The fiend is at mine elbow and tempts me saying to me ‘Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot,’ or ‘good Gobbo,’ or good Launcelot Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away. My conscience says ‘No; take heed,’ honest Launcelot; take heed, honest Gobbo, or, as aforesaid, ‘honest Launcelot Gobbo; do not run; scorn running with thy heels.’ Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack: ‘Via!’ says the fiend; ‘away!’ says the fiend; ‘for the heavens, rouse up a brave mind,’ says the fiend, ‘and run.’ W
ell, my conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, says very wisely to me ‘My honest friend Launcelot, being an honest man’s son,’ or rather an honest woman’s son; for, indeed, my father did something smack, something grow to, he had a kind of taste; well, my conscience says ‘Launcelot, 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 incarnal; 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 command; I will run.
Enter Old Gobbo, with a basket
Gobbo
Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew’s?
Launcelot
[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?
Launcelot
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 Launcelot, that dwells with him, dwell with him or no?
Launcelot
Talk you of young Master Launcelot?
Aside
Mark me now; now will I raise the waters. Talk you of young Master Launcelot?
Gobbo
No master, sir, but a poor man’s son: his father, though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man and, God be thanked, well to live.
Launcelot
Well, let his father be what a’ will, we talk of young Master Launcelot.
Gobbo
Your worship’s friend and Launcelot, sir.
Launcelot
But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you, talk you of young Master Launcelot?
Gobbo
Of Launcelot, an’t please your mastership.
Launcelot
Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master Launcelot, 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.
Launcelot
Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or a prop? 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?
Launcelot
Do you not know me, father?
Gobbo
Alack, sir, I am sand-blind; I know you not.
Launcelot
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: give me your blessing: truth will come to light; murder cannot be hid long; a man’s son may, but at the length truth will out.
Gobbo
Pray you, sir, stand up: I am sure you are not
Launcelot, my boy.
Launcelot
Pray you, let’s have no more fooling about it, but give me your blessing: I am Launcelot, your boy that was, your son that is, your child that shall be.
Gobbo
I cannot think you are my son.
Launcelot
I know not what I shall think of that: but I am Launcelot, 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 Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood. Lord worshipped might he be! what a beard hast thou got! thou hast got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my fill-horse has on his tail.
Launcelot
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?
Launcelot
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. 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
Bassanio
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 Gratiano to come anon to my lodging.
Exit a Servant
Launcelot
To him, father.
Gobbo
God bless your worship!
Bassanio
Gramercy! wouldst thou aught with me?
Gobbo
Here’s my son, sir, a poor boy,—
Launcelot
Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew’s man; that would, sir, as my father shall specify —
Gobbo
He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to serve —
Launcelot
Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, and have a desire, as my father shall specify —
Gobbo
His master and he, saving your worship’s reverence, are scarce cater-cousins —
Launcelot
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
I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow upon your worship, and my suit is —
Launcelot
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?
Launcelot
Serve you, sir.
Gobbo
That is the very defect of the matter, sir.
Bassanio
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.
Launcelot
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. Go, father, with thy son.
Take leave of thy old master and inquire
My lodging out. Give him a livery
More guarded than his fellows’: see it done.
Launcelot
Father, in. I cannot get a service, no; I have ne’er a tongue in my head. Well, 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 Fo
rtune 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
Bassanio
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.
Leonardo
My best endeavours shall be done herein.
Enter Gratiano
Gratiano
Where is your master?
Leonardo
Yonder, sir, he walks.
Exit
Gratiano
Signior Bassanio!
Bassanio
Gratiano!
Gratiano
I have a suit to you.
Bassanio
You have obtain’d it.
Gratiano
You must not deny me: I must go with you to Belmont.
Bassanio
Why then you must. But hear thee, Gratiano;
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 behavior
I be misconstrued in the place I go to,
And lose my hopes.
Gratiano
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
To please his grandam, never trust me more.
Bassanio
Well, we shall see your bearing.
Gratiano
Nay, but I bar to-night: you shall not gauge me
By what we do to-night.
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.
Gratiano
And I must to Lorenzo and the rest:
But we will visit you at supper-time.
Exeunt
SCENE III. THE SAME. A ROOM IN SHYLOCK’S HOUSE.
Enter Jessica and Launcelot
Jessica
Complete Plays, The Page 301
