+ + + IN sooth I know not why I am so sad, It wearies me, you say it wearies you; But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, What stuffe tis made of, whereof it is borne, I am to learne: and such a want-#wit sadnes makes of mee, That I haue much adoe to know my selfe. Your minde is tossing on the Ocean, There where your Argosies with portlie sayle Like Signiors and rich Burgars on the flood, Or as it were the Pageants of the sea, Doe ouer-#peere the petty traffiquers That cursie to them do them reuerence As they flie by them with theyr wouen wings. Beleeue mee sir, had I such venture forth, The better part of my affections would Be with my hopes abroade. I should be still Plucking the grasse to know where sits the wind, Piring in Maps for ports, and peers and rodes: And euery obiect that might make me feare Mis-#fortune to my ventures, out of doubt Would make me sad. My wind cooling my broth, would blow me to an ague when I thought what harme a winde too great might doe at sea. I should not see the sandie howre-#glasse runne But I should thinke of shallowes and of flatts, And see my wealthy {Andrew} docks in sand

+ Vayling her high top lower then her ribs To kisse her buriall; should I goe to Church And see the holy edifice of stone And not bethinke me straight of dangerous rocks, which touching but my gentle vessels side would scatter all her spices on the streame, Enrobe the roring waters with my silkes, And in a word, but euen now worth this, And now worth nothing. Shall I haue the thought To thinke on this, and shall I lack the thought That such a thing bechaunc'd would make me sad? But tell not me, I know {Anthonio} Is sad to thinke vpon his merchandize. Beleeue me no, I thanke my fortune for it My ventures are not in one bottome trusted, Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate Vpon the fortune of this present yeere: Therefore my merchandize makes me not sad. Why then you are in loue. Fie, fie. Not in loue neither: then let vs say you are sad Because you are not merry; and twere as easie For you to laugh and leape, and say you are merry Because you are not sad. Now by two-#headed {Ianus}, Nature hath framd strange fellowes in her time: Some that will euermore peepe through their eyes, And laugh like Parrats at a bagpyper. And other of such vinigar aspect, That theyle not shew theyr teeth in way of smile Though {Nestor} sweare the iest be laughable. Here comes {Bassanio} your most noble kinsman, {Gratiano}, and {Lorenso}. Faryewell, We leaue you now with better company. I would haue staid till I had made you merry, If worthier friends had not preuented me. Your worth is very deere in my regard.

+ I take it your owne busines calls on you, And you embrace th' #occasion to depart. Good morrow my good Lords. Good signiors both when shal we laugh? say, when? You grow exceeding strange: must it be so? Weele make our leysures to attend on yours. My Lord {Bassanio}, since you haue found {Anthonio} We two will leaue you, but at dinner time I pray you haue in minde where we must meete. I will not faile you. You looke not well signior {Anthonio}, You haue too much respect vpon the world: They loose it that doe buy it with much care, Beleeue me you are meruailously changd. I hold the world but as the world {Gratiano}, A stage, where euery man must play a part, And mine a sad one. Let me play the foole, With mirth and laughter let old wrinckles come, And let my liuer rather heate with wine Then my hart coole with mortifying grones. Why should a man whose blood is warme within, Sit like his grandsire, cut in Alablaster? Sleepe when he wakes? and creepe into the Iaundies By beeing peeuish? I tell thee what {Anthonio}, I loue thee, and tis my loue that speakes: There are a sort of men whose visages Doe creame and mantle like a standing pond, And doe a wilful stilnes entertaine, With purpose to be drest in an opinion Of wisedome, grauitie, profound conceit, As who should say, I am sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dogge barke. O my {Anthonio} I doe know of these That therefore onely are reputed wise

+ For saying nothing; when I am very sure If they should speake, would almost dam those eares which hearing them would call their brothers fooles, Ile tell thee more of this another time. But fish not with this melancholy baite For this foole gudgin, this opinion: Come good {Lorenso}, faryewell #a while, Ile end my exhortation after dinner. Well, we will leaue you then till dinner time. I must be one of these same dumbe wise men, For {Gratiano} neuer lets me speake. Well keepe me company but two yeeres moe Thou shalt not know the sound of thine owne tongue. Far you well, Ile grow a talker for this geare. Thanks yfaith, for silence is onely commendable In a neates tongue dried, and a mayde not vendable. It is that any thing now. + {Gratiano} speakes an infinite deale of nothing more then any man in all Venice, his reasons are as two graines of wheate hid in two bushels of chaffe: you shall seeke all day ere you finde them, and when you haue them, they are not worth the search. Well, tell me now what Lady is the same To whom you swore a secrete pilgrimage That you to day promisd to tell me of. Tis not vnknowne to you {Anthonio} How much I haue disabled mine estate, By something showing a more swelling port Then my faint meanes would graunt continuance: Nor doe I now make mone to be abridg'd From such a noble rate, but my cheefe care Is to come fairely #of from the great debts wherein my time something too prodigall Hath left me gagd: to you {Anthonio} I owe the most in money and in loue, And from your loue I haue a warrantie To vnburthen all my plots and purposes How to get cleere of all the debts I owe.

+ I pray you good {Bassanio} let me know it, And if it stand as you your selfe still doe, within the eye of honour, be assurd My purse, my person, my extreamest meanes Lie all vnlockt to your occasions. In my schoole dayes, when I had lost one shaft, I shot his fellow of the selfe same flight The selfe same way, with more aduised watch To finde the other forth, and by aduenturing both, I oft found both: I vrge this child-#hood proofe Because what followes is pure innocence. I owe you much, and like a wilfull youth That which I owe is lost, but if you please To shoote another arrow that selfe way which you did shoote the first, I doe not doubt, As I will watch the ayme or to find both, Or bring your latter hazzard bake againe, And thankfully rest debter for the first. You know me well, and heerein spend but time To wind about my loue with circumstance, And out of doubt you doe me now more wrong In making question of my vttermost Then if you had made #wast of all I haue: Then doe but say to me what I should doe That in your knowledge may by me be done, And I am prest vnto it: therefore speake. In {Belmont} is a Lady richly left, And she is faire, and fairer then that word, Of wondrous vertues, sometimes from her eyes I did receaue faire speechlesse messages: Her name is {Portia}, nothing vndervallewd To {Catos} daughter, {Brutus Portia}, Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth, For the foure winds blow in from euery coast Renowned sutors, and her sunny locks Hang on her temples like a golden fleece, which makes her seat of {Belmont Cholchos} strond,

+ And many {Iasons} come in quest of her. O my {Anthonio}, had I but the meanes To hold a riuall place with one of them, I haue a minde presages me such thrift That I should questionlesse be fortunate. Thou knowst that all my fortunes are at sea, Neither haue I money, nor commoditie To raise a present summe, therefore goe forth Try what my credite can in Venice doe, That shall be rackt euen to the vttermost To furnish thee to {Belmont} to faire {Portia}. Goe presently enquire and so will I where money is, and I no question make To haue it of my trust, or for my sake. + + By my troth {Nerrissa}, my little body is awearie of this great world. You would be sweet Madam, if your miseries were in the same aboundance as your good fortunes are: and yet for ought I + see, that are as sicke that surfeite with too much, as they that starue with nothing; it is no meane happines therfore to be seated in the meane, superfluitie comes sooner by white haires, but competen%cie liues longer. Good sentences, and well pronounc'd. They would be better if well followed. + If to do were as easie as to know what were good to do, Chappels had beene Churches, and poore mens cottages Princes Pallaces, it is a good diuine that followes his owne instructions, I can easier teach twentie what were good to be done, then to be one of the twentie to follow mine owne teaching: the braine may de%uise lawes for the blood, but a hote temper leapes ore a colde de%cree, such a hare is madnes the youth, to skippe ore the meshes of good counsaile the cripple; but this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose mee a husband, o mee the word choose, I may neyther + choose who I would, nor refuse who I dislike, so is the #will of a ly%uing daughter curbd by the #will of a deade father: is it not harde

+ {Nerrissa}, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none. Your Father was euer vertuous, and holy men at theyr + death haue good inspirations, therefore the lottrie that he hath de%uised in these three chests of gold, siluer, and leade, whereof who chooses his meaning chooses you, will no doubt neuer be chosen by any rightlie, but one who you shall rightly loue: But what warmth is there in your affection towardes any of these Princelie suters that are already come? I pray thee ouer-#name them, and as thou namest them, I will describe them, and according to my description leuell at my affection. First there is the Neopolitane Prince. + #I thats a colt indeede, for he doth nothing but talke of his horse, & he makes it a great appropriation to his owne good parts that he can shoo him himselfe: I am much afeard my Ladie his mother plaid false with a Smyth. Than is there the Countie Palentine. Hee doth nothing but frowne (as who should say, #& you will not haue me, choose, he heares merry tales and smiles not, I feare hee will prooue the weeping Phylospher when hee growes old, beeing so full of vnmannerly sadnes in his youth,) I had rather + be married to a deaths head with a bone in his mouth, then to ey%ther of these: God defend me from these two. How say you by the French Lord, Mounsier {Le Boune}? God made him, and therefore let him passe for a man, in truth I knowe it is a sinne to be a mocker, but hee, why hee hath a horse better then the Neopolitans, a better bad habite of frowning then the Count Palentine, he is euery man in no man, if a Trassell + sing, he falls straght #a capring, he will fence with his owne shadow. If I should marry him, I should marry twenty husbands: if hee would despise me, I would forgiue him, for if he loue me to mad%nes, I shall neuer requite him. What say you then to Fauconbridge, the young Barron of England? You know I say nothing to him, for hee vnderstands not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latine, French, nor Italian, & you will come into the Court and sweare that I haue a poore pennie%worth

+ in the English: hee is a proper mans picture, but alas who can conuerse with a dumbe show? how odly hee is suted, I thinke + he bought his doublet in Italie, his round hose in Fraunce, his bon%net in Germanie, and his behauiour euery where. + What thinke you of the Scottish Lorde his neigh%bour? _ That hee hath a neyghbourlie charitie in him, for hee borrowed a boxe of the eare of the Englishman, and swore hee would pay him againe when he was able: I think the Frenchman became his suretie, and seald vnder for another. How like you the young Germaine, the Duke of Saxo%nies nephew? Very vildlie in the morning when hee is sober, and most vildly in the afternoone when he is drunke: when he is best, he is + a little worse then a man, & when he is worst he is little better then + a beast, #and the worst fall that euer fell, I hope I shall make shift to goe without him. + Yf hee shoulde offer to choose, and choose the right Cas%ket, you should refuse to performe your Fathers #will, if you should refuse to accept him. + Therefore for feare of the worst, I pray thee set a deepe glasse of Reynishe wine on the contrarie Casket, for if the deuill be within, and that temptation without, I knowe hee will choose + it. I will doe any thing {Nerrissa} ere I will be married to a spunge. You neede not feare Ladie the hauing anie of these Lords, they haue acquainted me with theyr determinations, which is indeede to returne to theyr home, and to trouble you with no more sute, vnlesse you may be wonne by some other sort then$ your Fathers imposition, depending on the Caskets. + Yf I liue to be as old as Sibilla, I will die as chast as Diana, vnlesse I be obtained by the maner of my Fathers #will: I am glad this parcell of wooers are so reasonable, for there is not one among them but I doate on his very absence: & I pray God graunt them a faire departure. Doe you not remember Lady in your Fathers time, a Venecian a Scholler & a Souldiour that came hether in companie of the Marquesse of Mountferrat?

+ Yes, yes, it was {Bassanio}, as I thinke so was he calld. True maddam, hee of all the men that euer my foolish eyes look'd vpon, was the best deseruing a faire Ladie. I remember him well, and I remember him worthie of thy prayse. How nowe, what newes? The foure strangers seeke for you maddam to take theyr leaue: and there is a fore-#runner come from a fift, the Prince of {Moroco}, who brings word the Prince his Maister will be heere to night. + Yf I could bid the fift welcome with so good hart as I can bid the other foure farewell, I should bee glad of his approch: if he haue the condition of a Saint, and the complexion of a deuill, I had rather he should shriue mee then wiue mee. Come {Nerrissa}, sirra goe before: whiles we shut the gate vpon one wooer, another knocks at the doore. + Three thousand ducates, well. #I sir, for three months. For three months, well. For the which as I told you, {Anthonio} shalbe bound. {Anthonio} shall become bound, well. May you sted me? Will you pleasure me? Shall I know your aunswere. Three thousand ducats for three months, and {Anthonio} bound. Your aunswere to that. {Anthonio} is a good man. Haue you heard any imputation to the contrary. Ho no, no, no, no: my meaning in saying hee is a good man, is to haue you vnderstand mee that hee is sufficient, yet his meanes are in supposition: hee hath an Argosie bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies, I vnderstand moreouer vp%on the Ryalta, hee hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England,

+ and other ventures he hath squandred abroade, but ships are but boordes, Saylers but men, there be land rats, and water rats, water theeues, and land theeues, I meane Pyrats, and then there is the perrill of waters, windes, and rockes: the man is notwithstanding sufficient, three thousand ducats, I thinke I may take his bond. Be assurd you may. + I will be assurd I may: and that I may bee assured, I will bethinke mee, may I speake with {Anthonio}? Yf it please you to dine with vs. Yes, to smell porke, to eate of the habitation which your Prophet the Nazarit coniured the deuill into: I wil buy with you, sell with you, talke with you, walke with you, and so following: but I will not eate with you, drinke with you, nor pray with you. What newes on the Ryalto, who is he comes heere? This is signior {Anthonio}. How like a fawning publican he lookes. I hate him for he is a Christian: But more, for that in low simplicitie He lends out money gratis, and brings downe The rate of vsance heere with vs in Venice. Yf I can catch him once vpon the hip, I will feede fat the auncient grudge I beare him. He hates our sacred Nation, and he rayles Euen there where Merchants most doe congregate On me, my bargaines, and my well-#wone thrift, which hee calls interrest: Cursed be my Trybe if I forgiue him. {Shyloch}, doe you heare. I am debating of my present store, And by the neere gesse of my memorie I cannot instantly raise vp the grosse Of full three thousand ducats: what of that, {#Tuball} a wealthy Hebrew of my Tribe Will furnish me; but soft, how many months Doe you desire? Rest you faire good signior, Your worship was the last man in our mouthes.

+ {Shylocke}, albeit I neither lend nor borrow By taking nor by giuing of excesse, Yet to supply the ripe wants of my friend, Ile breake a custome: is hee yet possest How much ye would? #I, #I, three thousand ducats. And for three months. I had forgot, three months, you told me so. Well then, your bond: and let me see, but heare you, Me thoughts you said, you neither lend nor borrow Vpon aduantage. I doe neuer vse it. When {Iacob} grazd his Vncle {Labans} Sheepe, This {Iacob} from our holy {Abram} was (As his wise mother wrought in his behalfe) The third possesser; #I, he was the third. And what of him, did he take interrest? No, not take interest, not as you would say Directly intrest, marke what {Iacob} did, When {Laban} and himselfe were compremyzd That all the eanelings which were streakt and pied Should fall as {Iacobs} hier, the Ewes being ranck In end of Autume turned to the Rammes, And when the worke of generation was Betweene these wolly breeders in the act, The skilful sheepheard pyld me certaine wands, And in the dooing of the deede of kind He stuck them vp before the fulsome Ewes, Who then conceauing, did in eaning time Fall party-#colourd lambs, and those were {Iacobs}. This was a way to thriue, and he was blest: And thrift is blessing if men steale it not. This was a venture sir that {Iacob} serud for, A thing not in his power to bring to passe, But swayd and fashiond by the hand of heauen. Was this inserted to make interrest good? Or is your gold and siluer ewes and rammes?

+ I cannot tell, I make it breede as fast, but note me signior. Marke you this {Bassanio}, The deuill can cite Scripture for his purpose, An euill soule producing holy witnes Is like a villaine with a smiling cheeke, A goodly apple rotten at the hart. O what a goodly out-#side falshood hath. Three thousand ducats, tis a good round summe. Three months from twelue, then let me see the rate. Well {Shylocke}, shall we be beholding to you? Signior {Anthonio}, manie a time and oft In the Ryalto you haue rated me About my moneyes and my vsances: Still haue I borne it with a patient shrug, (For suffrance is the badge of all our Trybe) You call me misbeleeuer, cut-#throate dog, And spet vpon my Iewish gaberdine, And all for vse of that which is mine owne. Well then, it now appeares you neede my helpe: Goe to then, you come to me, and you say, {#Shylocke}, we would haue moneyes, you say so: You that did voyde your rume vpon my beard, And foote me as you spurne a stranger curre Ouer your threshold, moneyes is your sute. What should I say to you? Should I not say Hath a dog money? is it possible A curre can lend three thousand ducats? or Shall I bend low, and in a bond-#mans key With bated breath, and whispring humblenes Say this: Faire sir, you spet on me on Wednesday last, You spurnd me such a day another time, You calld me dogge: and for these curtesies Ile lend you thus much moneyes. I am as like to call thee so againe, To spet on thee againe, to spurne thee #to. Yf thou wilt lend this money, lend it not

+ As to thy friends, for when did friendship take A breede for barraine mettaile of his friend? But lend it rather to thine enemie, Who if he breake, thou maist with better face Exact the penaltie. Why looke you how you storme, I would be friends with you, and haue your loue, Forget the shames that you haue staind me with, Supply your present wants, and take no doyte Of vsance for my moneyes, and youle not heare mee, this is kinde I offer. This were kindnesse. This kindnesse will I showe, Goe with me to a Notarie, seale me there Your single bond, and in a merrie sport if you repay me not on such a day in such a place, such summe or summes as are exprest in the condition, let the forfaite be nominated for an equall pound of your faire flesh, to be cut off and taken in what part of your bodie pleaseth me. Content infaith, yle seale to such a bond, and say there is much kindnes in the Iew. You shall not seale to such a bond for me, Ile rather dwell in my necessitie. Why feare not man, I will not forfaite it, within these two months, thats a month before this bond expires, I doe expect returne of thrice three times the valew of this bond. O father Abram, what these Christians are, Whose owne hard dealings teaches them suspect the thoughts of others: Pray you tell me this, if he should breake his day what should I gaine by the exaction of the forfeyture? A pound of mans flesh taken from a man, is not so estimable, profitable neither as flesh of Muttons, Beefes, or Goates, I say

+ To buy his fauour, I extend this friendship, Yf he wil take it, so, if not adiew, And for my loue I pray you wrong me not. Yes {Shylocke}, I will seale vnto this bond. Then meete me forthwith at the Noteries, Giue him direction for this merry bond And I will goe and purse the ducats straite, See to my house left in the fearefull gard Of an vnthriftie knaue: and presently Ile be with you. Hie thee gentle Iewe. The Hebrew will turne Christian, he growes kinde. I like not faire termes, and a villaines minde. Come on, in this there can be no dismay, My ships come home a month before the day. + Mislike me not for my complexion, The shadowed liuerie of the burnisht sunne, To whom I am a neighbour, and neere bred. Bring me the fayrest creature North-#ward borne, Where {Phaebus} fire scarce thawes the ysicles, And let vs make incyzion for your loue, To proue whose blood is reddest, his or mine. I tell thee Lady this aspect of mine Hath feard the valiant, (by my loue I sweare) The best regarded Virgins of our Clyme Haue lou'd it #to: I would not change this hue, Except to steale your thoughts my gentle Queene. In termes of choyse I am not soly led By nice direction of a maydens eyes: Besides, the lottrie of my destenie Barrs me the right of voluntary choosing: But if my Father had not scanted me,

+ And hedgd me by his wit to yeeld my selfe His wife, who winnes me by that meanes I told you, Your selfe (renowned Prince) than stoode as faire As any commer I haue look'd on yet For my affection. Euen for that I thanke you, Therefore I pray you leade me to the Caskets To try my fortune: By this Symitare That slewe the Sophy, and a Persian Prince That wone three fields of Sultan Solyman, I would ore-#stare the sternest eyes that looke: Out-#braue the hart most daring on the earth: Pluck the young sucking Cubs from the #she Beare, Yea, mock the Lyon when #a rores for pray To win the Lady. But alas, the while If {Hercules} and {Lychas} play at dice Which is the better man, the greater throw May turne by fortune from the weaker hand: So is {Alcides} beaten by his rage, And so may I, blind Fortune leading me Misse that which one vnworthier may attaine, And die with greeuing. You must take your chaunce, And eyther not attempt to choose at all, Or sweare before you choose, if you choose wrong Neuer to speake to Lady afterward In way of marriage, therefore be aduis'd. Nor will not, come bring me vnto my chaunce. First forward to the temple, after dinner Your hazard shall be made. Good fortune then, To make me blest or cursed'st among men. + Certainely, my conscience will serue me to runne from this Iewe my Maister: the fiend is at mine elbow, and tempts me, + saying to me, {Iobbe, Launcelet Iobbe}, good {Launcelet}, or good {Iobbe},

+ or good {Launcelet Iobbe}, vse your legges, take the start, runne a%way, my conscience sayes no; take heede honest {Launcelet}, take + heede honest {Iobbe}, or as afore-#saide honest {Launcelet Iobbe}, doe not runne, scorne running with thy heeles; well, the most cora%gious fiend bids me packe, {fia} sayes the fiend, away sayes the fiend, for the heauens rouse vp a braue minde sayes the fiend, and runne; well, my conscience hanging about the necke of my heart, sayes very wisely to mee: my honest friend {Launcelet} beeing an honest mans sonne, or rather an honest womans sonne, for indeede my Father did something smacke, something grow to; he had a kinde + of tast; well, my conscience sayes {Launcelet} bouge not, bouge sayes the fiend, bouge not sayes my conscience, conscience say I you + counsaile wel, fiend say I you counsaile well, to be ruld by my con%science, I should stay with the Iewe my Maister, (who God blesse the marke) is a kinde of deuill; and to runne away from the Iewe I + should be ruled by the fiend, who sauing your reuerence is the de%uill himselfe: certainely the Iewe is the very deuill incarnation, and in my conscience, my conscience is but a kinde of hard consci%ence, to offer to counsaile mee to stay with the Iewe; the fiend giues the more friendly counsaile: I will runne fiend, my heeles are at your commaundement, I will runne. Maister young-#man, you I pray you, which is the way to Maister Iewes? + O heauens, this is my true begotten Father, who be%ing more then sand blinde, high grauell blinde, knowes me not, I will try confusions with him. Maister young Gentleman, I pray you which is the way to Maister Iewes. Turne vp on your right hand at the next turning, but at the next turning of all on your left; marry at the very next turning turne of no hand, but turne downe indirectly to the Iewes house. + #Be Gods sonties twill be a hard way to hit, can you tell

+ mee whether one {Launcelet} that dwels with him, dwell with him or no. Talke you of young Maister {Launcelet}, marke mee nowe, nowe will I raise the waters; talke you of young Maister {#Launcelet}. No Maister sir, but a poore mans Sonne, his Father though I say't is an honest exceeding poore man, and God bee thanked well to liue. + Well, let his Father be what #a will, wee talke of young Maister {Launcelet}. Your worships friend and {Launcelet} sir. + But I pray you {ergo} olde man, {ergo} I beseech you, talke you of young Maister {Launcelet}. Of {Launcelet} ant please your maistership. + {Ergo} Maister {Launcelet}, talke not of maister {Launcelet} Father, for the young Gentleman according to fates and deste%nies, and such odd sayings, the sisters three, and such braunches of learning, is indeede deceased, or as you would say in plaine termes, gone to heauen. Marry God forbid, the boy was the very staffe of my age, my very prop. + Doe I looke like a cudgell or a houell post, a staffe, or a prop: doe you know me Father. Alacke the day, I knowe you not young Gentleman, but I pray you tell mee, is my boy GOD rest his soule aliue or dead. Doe you not know me Father. Alack sir I am sand blind, I know you not. Nay, in deede if you had your eyes you might fayle of the knowing mee: it is a wise Father that knowes his owne childe. Well, olde man, I will tell you newes of your sonne, giue mee your blessing, trueth will come to light, murder cannot bee hidde long, a mannes Sonne may, but in the ende trueth will out. + Pray you sir stand vp, I am sure you are not {Launcelet} my boy.

+ Pray you let's haue no more fooling, about it, but giue mee your blessing: I am {Launcelet} your boy that was, your sonne that is, your child that shall be. I cannot thinke you are my sonne. + I know not what I shall think of that: but I am {Launce%let} the Iewes man, and I am sure {Margerie} your wife is my mo%ther. _ + Her name is {Margerie} in deede, ile be sworne if thou bee {#Launcelet}, thou art mine owne flesh and blood: Lord worshipt might he be, what a beard hast thou got; thou hast got more haire on thy chinne, then Dobbin my philhorse hase on his taile. + It should seeme then that Dobbins taile growes back%ward. I am sure hee had more haire of his taile then I haue of my face when I last saw him. Lord how art thou changd: how doost thou and thy Ma%ster agree, I haue brought him a present; how gree you now? + Well, well, but for mine owne part, as I haue set vp my + rest to runne away, so I will not rest till I haue runne some ground; my Maister's a very Iewe, giue him a present, giue him a halter, I am famisht in his seruice. You may tell euery finger I haue with my ribs: Father I am glad you are come, giue me your present to one Maister {Bassanio}, who in deede giues rare newe Lyuories, if I serue not him, I will runne as farre as God has any ground. O rare fortune, heere comes the man, to him Father, for I am a Iewe if I serue the Iewe any longer. + You may doe so, but let it be so hasted that supper be rea%dy at the farthest by fiue of the clocke: see these Letters deliuered, put the Lyueries to making, and desire {Gratiano} to come anone to my lodging. To him Father. God blesse your worship. Gramercie, wouldst thou ought with me. Heere's my sonne sir, a poore boy. Not a poore boy sir, but the rich Iewes man that would sir as my Father shall specifie.

+ He hath a great infection sir, as one would say to serue. + Indeede the short and the long is, I serue the Iewe, & haue a desire as my Father shall specifie. His Maister and he (sauing your worships reuerence) are scarce catercosins. + To be briefe, the very truth is, that the Iewe hauing done me wrong, dooth cause me as my Father being I hope an old man shall frutifie vnto you. I haue heere a dish of Doues that I would bestow vppon your worship, and my sute is. + In very briefe, the sute is impertinent to my selfe, as your worship shall knowe by this honest old man, and though I say it, though old man, yet poore man my Father. One speake for both, what would you? Serue you sir. That is the very defect of the matter sir. I know thee well, thou hast obtaind thy sute, {#Shylocke} thy Maister spoke with me this day, And hath preferd thee, if it be preferment To leaue a rich Iewes seruice, to become The follower of so poore a Gentleman. + The old prouerb is very well parted betweene my Mai%ster {#Shylocke} and you sir, you haue the grace of God sir, and hee hath enough. Thou speakst it well; goe Father with thy Sonne Take leaue of thy old Maister, and enquire My lodging out, giue him a Lyuerie More garded then his fellowes: see it done. + Father in, I cannot get a seruice, no, I haue nere a tong in my head, wel: if any man in Italy haue a fayrer table which dooth offer to sweare vpon a booke, I shall haue good fortune; + goe too, heere's a simple lyne of life, heeres a small tryfle of wiues, alas, fifteene wiues is nothing, #a leuen widdowes and nine maydes is a simple comming in for one man, and then to scape drowning + thrice, and to be in perrill of my life with the edge of a featherbed, heere are simple scapes: well, if Fortune be a woman she's a good wench for this gere: Father come, ile take my leaue of the Iewe in

+ the twinkling. I pray thee good {Leonardo} thinke on this, These things being bought and orderly bestowed Returne in #hast, for I doe feast to night My best esteemd acquaintance, hie thee goe. + My best endeuours shall be done heerein. Where's your Maister. Yonder sir he walkes. Signior {Bassanio}. {Gratiano}. I haue sute to you. You haue obtaind it. You must not deny me, I must goe with you to Belmont. Why then you must but heare thee {Gratiano}, Thou art #to wild, #to rude, and bold of voyce, Parts that become thee happily enough, And in such eyes as ours appeare not faults But where thou art not knowne; why there they show Somthing too liberall, pray thee take paine To allay with some cold drops of modestie Thy skipping spirit, least through thy wild behauiour I be misconstred in the place I goe to, And loose my hopes. Signor {Bassanio}, heare me, Yf I doe not put on a sober habite, Talke with respect, and sweare but now and than, Weare prayer bookes in my pocket, looke demurely, Nay more, while grace is saying hood mine eyes Thus with my hat, and sigh and say amen: Vse all the obseruance of ciuillity Like one well studied in a sad ostent To please his Grandam, neuer trust me more. Well, we shall see your bearing. Nay but I barre to night, you shall not gage me By what we doe to night. No that were pitty,

+ I would intreate you rather to put on Your boldest sute of mirth, for we haue friends That purpose merriment: but far you well, I haue some busines. And I must to {Lorenso} and the rest, But we will visite you at supper time. + I am sorry thou wilt leaue my Father so, Our house is #hell, and thou a merry deuill Didst rob it of some tast of tediousnes, But far thee well, there is a ducat for thee, And {Launcelet}, soone at supper shalt thou see {Lorenso}, who is thy new Maisters guest, Giue him this Letter, doe it secretly, And so farwell: I would not haue my Father See me in talke with thee. + Adiew, teares exhibit my tongue, most beautifull Pa%gan, most sweete Iewe, if a Christian doe not play the knaue and get thee, I am much deceaued; but adiew, these foolish drops doe somthing drowne my manly spirit: adiew. Farwell good {Launcelet}. Alack, what heynous sinne is it in me To be ashamed to be my Fathers child, But though I am a daughter to his blood I am not to his manners: o {Lorenso} Yf thou keepe promise I shall end this strife, Become a Christian and thy louing wife. + Nay, we will slinke away in supper time, Disguise vs at my lodging, and returne all in an houre. We haue not made good preparation. We haue not spoke vs yet of Torch-#bearers, Tis vile vnlesse it may be quaintly ordered, And better in my minde not vndertooke. Tis now but foure of clocke, we haue two houres

+ To furnish vs; friend {Launcelet} whats the newes. + #And it shal please you to breake vp this, it shal seeme to signifie. I know the hand, in faith tis a faire hand, And whiter then the paper it writ on Is the faire hand that writ. Loue, newes in faith. By your leaue sir. Whither goest thou. + Marry sir to bid my old Maister the Iewe to sup to night with my new Maister the Christian. Hold heere take this, tell gentle {Iessica} I will not faile her, speake it priuatly, Goe Gentlemen, will you prepare you for this maske to night, I am prouided of a Torch-#bearer. #I marry, ile be gone about it straite. And so will I. Meete me and {Gratiano} at {Gratianos} lodging Some houre hence. Tis good we doe so. Was not that Letter from faire {Iessica}. I must needes tell thee all, she hath directed How I shall take her from her Fathers house, What gold and iewels she is furnisht with, What Pages sute she hath in readines, Yf ere the Iewe her Father come to heauen, Yt will be for his gentle daughters sake, And neuer dare misfortune crosse her foote, Vnlesse she doe it vnder this excuse, That she is issue to a faithlesse Iewe: Come goe with me, pervse this as thou goest, Faire {Iessica} shall be my Torch-#bearer. + Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy iudge, The difference of old {Shylocke} and {Bassanio}; What {Iessica}, thou shalt not gurmandize

+ As thou hast done with mee: what {Iessica}, and sleepe, and snore, and rend apparraile out. Why {Iessica} I say. Why {Iessica}. Who bids thee call? I doe not bid thee call. Your worship was wont to tell me, I could doe nothing without bidding. Call you? what is your #will? I am bid forth to supper {Iessica}, There are my keyes: but wherefore should I goe? I am not bid for loue, they flatter me, But yet Ile goe in hate, to feede vpon The prodigall Christian. {Iessica} my girle, looke to my house, I am right loth to goe, There is some #ill #a bruing towards my rest, For I did dreame of money baggs to night. I beseech you sir goe, my young Maister doth expect your reproch. So doe I his. #And they haue conspired together, I will not say you shall see a Maske, but if you doe, then it was not for nothing + that my nose fell #a bleeding on black monday last, at sixe #a clocke ith morning, falling out that yeere on ashwensday was foure yeere in th #afternoone. What are there maskes? heare you me {Iessica}, lock vp my doores, and when you heare the drumme and the vile squealing of the wry-#neckt Fiffe clamber not you vp to the casements then Nor thrust your head into the publique streete To gaze on Christian fooles with varnisht faces: But stop my houses eares, I meane my casements, let not the sound of shallow fopprie enter my sober house. By {Iacobs} staffe I sweare I haue no minde of feasting forth to night: but I will goe: goe you before me sirra, say I will come.

+ I will goe before sir. Mistres looke out at window for all this, there will come a Christian by will be worth a Iewes eye. What sayes that foole of {Hagars} ofspring? ha. His words were farewell mistris, nothing els. The patch is kinde enough, but a huge feeder, Snaile slow in profit, and he sleepes by day more then the wild-#cat: drones hiue not with me, therefore I part with him, and part with him to one that I would haue him helpe to #wast his borrowed purse. Well {Iessica} goe in, perhaps I will returne immediatlie, do as I bid you, shut dores after you, fast bind, fast find. a prouerbe neuer stale in thriftie minde. Farewell, and if my fortune be not crost, I haue a Father, you a daughter lost. + This is the penthouse vnder which {Lorenzo} desired vs to make stand. His howre is almost past. And it is meruaile he out-#dwells his howre, for louers euer runne before the clocke. O tenne times faster {Venus} pidgions flie to seale loues bonds new made, then they are wont to keepe obliged faith vnforfaited. That euer holds: who riseth from a feast with that keene appetite that he sits downe? where is the horse that doth vntread againe his tedious measures with the vnbated fire that he did pace them first: all things that are are with more spirit chased then enioyd. How like a younger or a prodigall the skarfed barke puts from her natiue bay hugd and embraced by the strumpet wind, how like the prodigall doth she returne

+ with ouer-#wetherd ribbs and ragged sailes leane, rent, and beggerd by the strumpet wind? Heere comes {Lorenzo}, more of this hereafter. Sweet freends, your patience for my long abode not I but my affaires haue made you waite: when you shall please to play the theeues for wiues Ile watch as long for you then: approch here dwels my father Iew. Howe whose within? Who are you? tell me for more certainty, Albeit Ile sweare that I doe know your tongue. {Lorenzo} and thy loue. {Lorenzo} certaine, and my loue indeed, for who loue I so much? and now who knowes but you {Lorenzo} whether I am yours? Heauen & thy thoughts are witnes that thou art. Heere catch this casket, it is worth the paines, I am glad tis night you doe not looke on me, for I am much ashamde of my exchange: But loue is blinde, and louers cannot see The pretty follies that themselues commit, for if they could, {Cupid} himselfe would blush to see me thus trans-#formed to a boy. Descend, for you must be my torch-#bearer. What, must I hold a candle to my shames, they in themselues goodsooth are too too light. Why, tis an office of discouery loue, and I should be obscurd. So are you sweet euen in the louely garnish of a boy, but come at once, for the close night doth play the runaway, and we are staid for at {Bassanios} feast. I will make fast the doores & guild my selfe with some mo ducats, and be with you straight. Now by my hoode a gentle, and no Iew. Beshrow me but I loue her hartilie,

+ For she is wise, if I can iudge of her, and faire she is, if that mine eyes be true, and true she is, as she hath proou'd herselfe: And therefore like herselfe, wise, faire, and true, shall she be placed in my constant soule. What, art thou come, on gentleman, away, our masking mates by this time for vs stay. Whose there? Signior {Anthonio}? Fie, fie Gratiano, where are all the rest? Tis nine #a clocke, our friends all stay for you, No maske to night, the wind is come about {Bassanio} presently will goe abord, I haue sent twentie out to seeke for you. I am glad ont, I desire no more delight then to be vndersaile, and gone to night. + Goe, draw aside the curtaines and discouer the seuerall caskets to this noble Prince: Now make your choyse. This first of gold, who this inscription beares, Who chooseth me, shall gaine what many men desire. The second siluer, which this promise carries, Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserues. This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt, Who chooseth me, must giue and hazard all he hath. How shall I know if I doe choose the right? The one of them containes my picture Prince, if you choose that, then I am yours withall. Some God direct my iudgement, let me see, I will suruay th' #inscriptions, back againe, What saies this leaden casket? Who chooseth me, must giue and hazard all he hath, Must giue, for what? for lead, hazard for lead? This casket threatens men that hazard all

+ doe it in hope of faire aduantages: A golden minde stoopes not to showes of drosse, Ile then nor giue nor hazard ought for lead. What sayes the siluer with her virgin hue? Who chooseth me, shal get as much as he deserues. As much as he deserues, pause there {Morocho}, and weigh thy valew with an euen hand, If thou beest rated by thy estimation thou doost deserue enough, and yet enough May not extend so farre as to the Ladie: And yet to be afeard of my deseruing were but a weake disabling of my selfe. As much as I deserue, why thats the Ladie. I doe in birth deserue her, and in fortunes, in graces, and in qualities of breeding: but more then these, in loue I doe deserue, what if I straid no farther, but chose heere? Lets see once more this saying grau'd in gold: Who chooseth me shall gaine what many men desire: Why thats the Ladie, all the world desires her. From the foure corners of the earth they come to kisse this shrine, this mortall breathing Saint. The Hircanion deserts, and the vastie wildes Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now for Princes to come view faire {Portia}. The waterie Kingdome, whose ambitious head Spets in the face of heauen, is no barre To stop the forraine spirits, but they come as ore a brooke to see faire {Portia}. One of these three containes her heauenly picture. Ist like that leade containes her, twere damnation to thinke so base a thought, it were too grosse to ribb her serecloth in the obscure graue, Or shall I thinke in siluer shees immurd beeing tenne times vndervalewed to tride gold, O sinful thought, neuer so rich a Iem was set in worse then gold. They haue in England

+ A coyne that beares the figure of an Angell stampt in gold, but thats insculpt vpon: But heere an Angell in a golden bed lies all within. Deliuer me the key: heere doe I choose, and thriue I as I may. There take it Prince, and if my forme lie there then I am yours? O #hell! what haue wee heare, a carrion death, within whose emptie eye there is a written scroule, Ile reade the writing. {All that glisters is not gold}, {Often haue you heard that told}, {Many a man his life hath sold} {But my outside to behold}, {Guilded timber doe wormes infold}: {Had you beene as wise as bold}, {Young in limbs, in iudgement old}, {Your aunswere had not beene inscrold}, {Fareyouwell, your sute is cold}. Cold indeede and labour lost, Then farewell heate, and welcome frost: {#Portia} adiew, I haue too greeu'd a hart To take a tedious leaue: thus loosers part. A gentle riddance, draw the curtaines, go, Let all of his complexion choose me so. + Why man I saw {Bassanio} vnder sayle, with him is {Gratiano} gone along; and in theyr ship I am sure {Lorenzo} is not. The villaine Iew with outcries raisd the Duke, who went with him to search {Bassanios} ship. He came too late, the ship was vndersaile, But there the Duke was giuen to vnderstand that in a Gondylo were seene together {Lorenzo} and his amorous {Iessica}. Besides, {Anthonio} certified the Duke they were not with {Bassanio} in his ship.

+ I neuer heard a passion so confusd, So strange, outragious, and so variable as the dogge Iew did vtter in the streets, My daughter, o my ducats, o my daughter, Fled with a Christian, o my Christian ducats. Iustice, the law, my ducats, and my daughter, A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats of double ducats, stolne from me by my daughter, and Iewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones, Stolne by my daughter: iustice, find the girle, shee hath the stones vpon her, and the ducats. Why all the boyes in Venice follow him, crying his stones, his daughter, and his ducats. Let good {Anthonio} looke he keepe his day or he shall pay for this. Marry well remembred. I reasond with a Frenchman yesterday, who told me, in the narrow seas that part the French and English, there miscaried a vessell of our country richly fraught: I thought vpon {Anthonio} when he told me, and wisht in silence that it were not his. You were best to tell {Anthonio} what you heare, Yet doe not suddainely, for it may greeue him. A kinder gentleman treades not the earth, I saw {Bassanio} and {Anthonio} part, {Bassanio} told him he would make some speede of his returne: he aunswered, doe not so, slumber not busines for my sake {Bassanio}, but stay the very riping of the time, and for the Iewes bond which he hath of me let it not enter in your minde of loue: be merry, and imploy your cheefest thoughts to courtship, and such faire ostents of loue as shall conueniently become you there, And euen there his eye being big with teares, turning his face, he put his hand behind him, and with affection wondrous sencible

+ He wrung {Bassanios} hand, and so they parted. I thinke hee onely loues the world for him, I pray thee let vs goe and finde him out and quicken his embraced heauines with some delight or other. Doe we so. + Quick, quick I pray thee, draw the curtain strait, The Prince of Arragon hath tane his oath, and comes to his election presently. Behold, there stand the caskets noble Prince, yf you choose that wherein I am containd straight shall our nuptiall rights be solemniz'd: but if you faile, without more speech my Lord you must be gone from hence immediatly. I am enioynd by oath to obserue three things, First, neuer to vnfold to any one which casket twas I chose; next, if I faile of the right casket, neuer in my life to wooe a maide in way of marriage: lastly, if I doe faile in fortune of my choyse, immediatly to leaue you, and be gone. To these iniunctions euery one doth sweare that comes to hazard for my worthlesse selfe. And so haue I addrest me, fortune now To my harts hope: gold, siluer, and base lead. Who chooseth me, must giue and hazard all he hath. You shall looke fairer ere I giue or hazard. What saies the golden chest, ha, let me see, Who chooseth me, shall gaine what many men desire, What many men desire, that many may be meant by the foole multitude that choose by show, not learning more then the fond eye doth teach, which pries not to th #interiour, but like the Martlet

+ Builds in the weather on the outward wall, Euen in the force and rode of casualty. I will not choose what many men desire, Because I will not iumpe with common spirits, And ranke me with the barbarous multitudes. Why then to thee thou siluer treasure house, Tell me once more what title thou doost beare; Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserues, And well sayde #to; for who shall goe about To cosen Fortune, and be honourable without the stampe of merrit, let none presume To weare an vndeserued dignity: O that estates, degrees, and offices, were not deriu'd corruptly, and that cleare honour were purchast by the merrit of the wearer, How many then should couer that stand bare? How many be commaunded that commaund? How much low peasantry would then be gleaned From the true seede of honour? and how much honour Pickt from the chaft and ruin of the times, To be new varnist; well but to my choise. Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserues, I will assume desert; giue me a key for this, And instantly vnlocke my fortunes heere. Too long a pause for that which you finde there. What's heere, the pourtrait of a blinking idiot Presenting me a shedule, I will reade it: How much vnlike art thou to {Portia}? How much vnlike my hopes and my deseruings. Who chooseth me, shall haue as much as he deserues? Did I deserue no more then a fooles head, Is that my prize, are my deserts no better? To offend and iudge are distinct offices, And of opposed natures. What is heere? {The fier seauen times tried this}, {Seauen times tried that iudement is},

+ {That did neuer choose amis}, {Some there be that shadowes kis}. {Such haue but a shadowes blis}: {There be fooles aliue Iwis} {Siluerd o're, and so was this}. {Take what wife you will to bed}, {I will euer be your head}: {So be gone, you are sped}. Still more foole I shall appeare By the time I linger heere, With one fooles head I came to woo, But I goe away with two. Sweet adiew, ile keepe my oath, Paciently to beare my wroath. Thus hath the candle singd the moath: O these deliberate fooles when they doe choose, They haue the wisedome by their wit to loose. The auncient saying is no herisie, Hanging and wiuing goes by destinie. Come draw the curtaine {Nerrissa}. Where is my Lady. Heere, what would my Lord? Madame, there is a-#lighted at your gate A young Venetian, one that comes before To signifie th' #approching of his Lord, From whom he bringeth sensible regreets; To wit, (besides commends and curtious breath) Gifts of rich valiew; yet I haue not seene So likely an Embassador of loue. A day in Aprill neuer came so sweete To show how costly Sommer was at hand, As this fore-#spurrer comes before his Lord. No more I pray thee, I am halfe a-#feard Thou wilt say anone he is some kin to thee, Thou spendst such high day wit in praysing him:

+ Come come {Nerryssa}, for I long to see Quick {Cupids} Post that comes so mannerly. {Bassanio} Lord, loue if thy #will it be. + Now what newes on the Ryalto? + Why yet it liues there vncheckt, that {Anthonio} hath a ship of rich lading wrackt on the narrow Seas; the Goodwins I thinke + they call the place, a very dangerous flat, and fatall, where the car%casses of many a tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossip report be an honest woman of her word. + I would she were as lying a gossip in that, as euer knapt Ginger, or made her neighbours beleeue she wept for the death of a third husband: but it is true, without any slips of prolixity, or + crossing the plaine high way of talke, that the good {Anthonio}, the honest {Anthonio}; o that I had a tytle good enough to keepe his name company. Come, the full stop. + Ha, what sayest thou, why the end is, he hath lost a ship. I would it might proue the end of his losses. + Let me say amen betimes, least the deuil crosse my prai%er, for heere he comes in the likenes of a Iewe. How now {Shylocke}, what newes among the Merchants? + You knew, none so well, none so well as you, of my daugh%ters flight. + Thats certaine, I for my part knew the Taylor that made the wings she flew withall. + And {Shylocke} for his own part knew the bird was flidge, and then it is the complexion of them all to leaue the dam. She is damnd for it. Thats certaine, if the deuill may be her Iudge. My owne flesh and blood to rebell. Out vpon it old carrion, rebels it at these yeeres. I say my daughter is my flesh and my blood. There is more difference betweene thy flesh and hers, then betweene Iet and Iuorie, more betweene your bloods, then there is betweene red wine and rennish: but tell vs, doe you heare whether {Anthonio} haue had any losse at sea or no?

+ There I haue another bad match, a bankrout, a prodigall, who dare scarce shewe his head on the Ryalto, a begger that was vsd to come so smug vpon the Mart: let him looke to his bond, he was wont to call me vsurer, let him looke to his bond, hee was wont to lende money for a Christian cursie, let him looke to his bond. + Why I am sure if he forfaite, thou wilt not take his flesh, what's that good for? + To baite fish with all, if it will feede nothing else, it will feede my reuenge; hee hath disgrac'd me, and hindred me halfe a + million, laught at my losses, mockt at my gaines, scorned my Na%tion, thwarted my bargaines, cooled my friends, heated mine ene%mies, and whats his reason, I am a Iewe: Hath not a Iewe eyes, + hath not a Iewe hands, organs, dementions, sences, affections, pas%sions, fed with the same foode, hurt with the same weapons, sub%iect to the same diseases, healed by the same meanes, warmed and cooled by the same Winter and Sommer as a Christian is: if you pricke vs doe we not bleede, if you tickle vs doe wee not laugh, if you poyson vs doe wee not die, and if you wrong vs shall wee not + reuenge, if we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Iewe wrong a Christian, what is his humillity, reuenge? If a Christian wrong a Iewe, what should his sufferance be by Christi%an example, why reuenge? The villanie you teach me I will exe%cute, and it shall goe hard but I will better the instruction. Gentlemen, my maister {Anthonio} is at his house, and desires to speake with you both. We haue beene vp and downe to seeke him. Heere comes another of the Tribe, a third cannot bee + matcht, vnlesse the deuill himselfe turne Iewe. How now {Tuball}, what newes from Genowa, hast thou found my daughter? + I often came where I did heare of her, but cannot finde her.

+ Why there, there, there, there, a diamond gone cost me two thousand ducats in Franckford, the curse neuer fell vpon our Nation till now, I neuer felt it till nowe, two thousand ducats in that, & other precious precious iewels; I would my daughter were dead at my foote, and the iewels in her eare: would she were hearst at my foote, and the ducats in her coffin: no newes of them, why so? and I know not whats spent in the search: why thou losse vp%on losse, the theefe gone with so much, and so much to finde the + theefe, and no satisfaction, no reuenge, nor no #ill lucke stirring but + what lights #a my shoulders, no sighs but #a my breathing, no teares but #a my shedding. + Yes, other men haue #ill lucke #to, {Anthonio} as I heard in Genowa? What, what, what, #ill lucke, #ill lucke. #Hath an Argosie cast away comming from Tripolis. I thank God, I thank God, is it true, is it true. + I spoke with some of the Saylers that escaped the wrack. + I thank thee good {Tuball}, good newes, good newes: ha ha, heere in Genowa. Your daughter spent in Genowa, as I heard, one night fourescore ducats. + Thou stickst a dagger in me, I shall neuer see my gold a%gaine, foure score ducats at a sitting, foure score ducats. + There came diuers of {Anthonios} creditors in my com%pany to Venice, that sweare, he cannot choose but breake. + I am very glad of it, ile plague him, ile torture him, I am glad of it. One of them shewed mee a ring that hee had of your daughter for a Monky. + Out vpon her, thou torturest mee {Tuball}, it was my Tur%kies, I had it of {Leah} when I was a Batcheler: I would not haue giuen it for a Wildernes of Monkies. But {Anthonio} is certainly vndone. + Nay, that's true, that's very true, goe {Tuball} fee me an Offi%cer, bespeake him a fortnight before, I will haue the hart of him if he forfeite, for were he out of Venice I can make what merchan%dize I will: goe {Tuball}, and meete me at our Sinagogue, goe good

+ {#Tuball}, at our Sinagogue {Tuball}. + I pray you tarry, pause a day or two Before you hazard, for in choosing wrong I loose your companie; therefore forbeare #a while, Theres something tells me (but it is not loue) I would not loose you, and you know your selfe, Hate counsailes not in such a quallity; But least you should not vnderstand me well, And yet a mayden hath no tongue, but thought, I would detaine you heere some moneth or two before you venture for me. I could teach you how to choose right, but then I am forsworne, So will I neuer be, so may you misse me, But if you doe, youle make me wish a sinne, That I had beene forsworne: Beshrow your eyes, They haue ore-#lookt me and deuided me, One halfe of me is yours, the other halfe yours, Mine owne I would say: but if mine then yours, And so all yours; o these naughty times puts barres betweene the owners and their rights, And so though yours, not yours, (proue it so) Let Fortune goe to #hell for it, not I. I speake too long, but tis to peize the time. To ech it, and to draw it out in length, To stay you from election. Let me choose, For as I am, I liue vpon the racke. Vpon the racke {Bassanio}, then confesse what treason there is mingled with your loue. None but that vgly treason of mistrust, which makes me feare th' #inioying of my Loue, There may as well be amity and life Tweene snow and fire, as treason and my loue. #I but I feare you speake vpon the racke where men enforced doe speake any thing.

+ Promise me life, and ile confesse the truth. Well then, confesse and liue. Confesse and loue had beene the very sum of my confession: O happy torment, when my torturer doth teach me aunsweres for deliuerance: But let me to my fortune and the caskets. Away then, I am lockt in one of them, If you doe loue me, you will finde me out. {Nerryssa} and the rest, stand all aloofe, Let musique sound while he doth make his choyse, Then if he loose he makes a Swan-#like end, Fading in musique. That the comparison may stand more proper, my eye shall be the streame and watry death-#bed for him: he may win, And what is musique than? Than musique is euen as the flourish, when true subiects bowe to a new crowned Monarch: Such it is, As are those dulcet sounds in breake of day, That creepe into the dreaming bride-#groomes eare, And summon him to marriage. Now he goes with no lesse presence, but with much more loue Then young Alcides, when he did redeeme The virgine tribute, payed by howling Troy To the Sea-#monster: I stand for sacrifice, The rest aloofe are the Dardanian wiues: With bleared visages come forth to view The issue of th' #exploit: Goe Hercules, Liue thou, I liue with much much more dismay, I view the fight, then thou that mak'st the fray. {Tell me where is fancie bred}, {Or in the hart, or in the head}, {How begot, how nourished}? {Replie, replie}.

+ {It is engendred in the eye}, {With gazing fed, and Fancie dies}: {In the cradle where it lies} {Let vs all ring Fancies knell}. Ile begin it. {Ding, dong, bell}. {Ding, dong, bell}. So may the outward showes be least themselues, The world is still deceau'd with ornament In Law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, But being season'd with a gracious voyce, Obscures the show of euill. In religion What damned error but some sober brow will blesse it, and approue it with a text, Hiding the grosnes with faire ornament: There is no voyce so simple, but assumes Some marke of vertue on his outward parts; How many cowards whose harts are all as false As stayers of sand, weare yet vpon their chins The beards of {Hercules} and frowning {Mars}, who inward searcht, haue lyuers white as milke, And these assume but valours excrement To render them redoubted. Looke on beauty, And you shall see tis purchast by the weight, which therein works a miracle in nature, Making them lightest that weare most of it: So are those crisped snaky golden locks which maketh such wanton gambols with the wind Vpon supposed fairenes, often knowne To be the dowry of a second head, The scull that bred them in the Sepulcher. Thus ornament is but the guiled shore To a most dangerous sea: the beautious scarfe vailing an Indian beauty; In a word, The seeming truth which cunning times put on To intrap the wisest. Therefore then thou gaudy gold, Hard food for {Midas}, I will none of thee,

+ Nor none of thee thou pale and common drudge tweene man and man: but thou, thou meager lead which rather threatenst then dost promise ought, thy palenes moues me more then eloquence, and heere choose I, ioy be the consequence. How all the other passions fleet to ayre, As doubtfull thoughts, and rash imbrac'd despaire: And shyddring feare, and greene-#eyed iealousie. O loue be moderate, allay thy extasie, In measure raine thy ioy, scant this excesse, I feele too much thy blessing, make it lesse for feare I surfeit. What finde I heere? Faire {Portias} counterfeit. What demy God hath come so neere creation? moue these eyes? Or whither riding on the balls of mine seeme they in motion? Heere are seuerd lips parted with suger breath, so sweet a barre should sunder such sweet friends: heere in her haires the Paynter playes the Spyder, and hath wouen a golden mesh t#yntrap the harts of men faster then gnats in cobwebs, but her eyes how could he see to doe them? hauing made one, me thinkes it should haue power to steale both his and leaue it selfe vnfurnisht: Yet looke how farre the substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow in vnderprysing it, so farre this shadow doth limpe behind the substance. Heeres the scroule, the continent and summarie of my fortune. {You that choose not by the view} {Chaunce as faire, and choose as true}: {Since this fortune falls to you}, {Be content, and seeke no new}. {If you be well pleasd with this}, {and hold your fortune for your blisse}, {Turne you where your Lady is}, {And claime her with a louing kis}.

+ A gentle scroule: Faire Lady, by your leaue, I come by note to giue, and to receaue, Like one of two contending in a prize That thinks he hath done well in peoples eyes: Hearing applause and vniuersall shoute, Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt whether those peales of praise be his or no, So thrice faire Lady stand I euen so, As doubtfull whether what I see be true, Vntill confirmd, signd, ratified by you. You see me Lord {Bassanio} where I stand, such as I am; though for my selfe alone I would not be ambitious in my wish to wish my selfe much better, yet for you, I would be trebled twentie times my selfe, a thousand times more faire, tenne thousand times more rich, that onely to stand high in your account, I might in vertues, beauties, liuings, friends exceede account: but the full summe of me is sume of something: which to terme in grosse, is an vnlessond girle, vnschoold, vnpractized, happy in this, she is not yet so old but she may learne: happier then this, shee is not bred so dull but she can learne; happiest of all, is that her gentle spirit commits it selfe to yours to be directed, as from her Lord, her gouernour, her King. My selfe, and what is mine, to you and yours is now conuerted. But now I was the Lord of this faire mansion, maister of my seruants, Queene ore my selfe: and euen now, but now, this house, these seruaunts, and this same my selfe are yours, my Lords, I giue them with this ring, which when you part from, loose, or giue away, let it presage the ruine of your loue, and be my vantage to exclaime on you. Maddam, you haue bereft me of all words,

+ onely my blood speakes to you in my vaines, and there is such confusion in my powers, as after some oration fairely spoke by a beloued Prince, there doth appeare among the buzzing pleased multitude. Where euery somthing beeing blent together, turnes to a wild of nothing, saue of ioy exprest, and not exprest: but when this ring parts from this finger, then parts life from hence, o then be bold to say {Bassanio}s dead. My Lord and Lady, it is now our time that haue stoode by and seene our wishes prosper, to cry good ioy, good ioy my Lord and Lady. My Lord {Bassanio}, and my gentle Lady, I wish you all the ioy that you can wish: for I am sure you can wish none from me: and when your honours meane to solemnize the bargaine of your fayth: I doe beseech you euen at that time I may be married #to. With all my hart, so thou canst get a wife. I thanke your Lordship, you haue got me one. My eyes my Lord can looke as swift as yours: you saw the mistres, I beheld the mayd: You lou'd, I lou'd for intermission, No more pertaines to me my lord then you; your fortune stood vpon the caskets there, and so did mine #to as the matter falls: for wooing heere vntill I swet againe, and swearing till my very rough was dry with oathes of loue, at last, if promise last I got a promise of this faire one heere to haue her loue: prouided that your fortune atchiu'd her mistres. Is this true {Nerrissa}? Maddam it is, so you stand pleasd withall. And doe you {Gratiano} meane good fayth? Yes faith my Lord.

+ Our feast shalbe much honored in your mariage. Wele play with them the first boy for a thousand ducats. What and stake downe? No, we shall nere win at that sport and stake downe. But who comes heere? {Lorenzo} and his infidell? what, and my old Venecian friend {Salerio}? {Lorenzo} and {Salerio}, welcome hether, if that the youth of my newe intrest heere haue power to bid you welcome: by your leaue I bid my very friends and countrymen sweet {Portia} welcome. So doe I my Lord, they are intirely welcome. I thanke your honour, for my part my Lord my purpose was not to haue seene you heere, but meeting with {Salerio} by the way he did intreate me past all saying nay to come with him along. I did my Lord, and I haue reason for it, Signior {Anthonio} commends him to you. Ere I ope his Letter I pray you tell me how my good friend doth. Not sicke my Lord, vnlesse it be in mind, nor well, vnlesse in mind: his letter there will show you his estate. {Nerrissa}, cheere yond stranger, bid her welcom. Your hand {Salerio}, what's the newes from Venice? How doth that royall Merchant good {Anthonio}? I know he will be glad of our successe, We are the {Iasons}, we haue wone the fleece. I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost. There are some shrowd contents in yond same paper That steales the colour from {Bassanios} cheeke, Some deere friend dead, else nothing in the world could turne so much the constitution

+ of any constant man: what worse and worse? With leaue {Bassanio} I am halfe your selfe, and I must freely haue the halfe of any thing that this same paper brings you. O sweete {Portia}, heere are a few of the vnpleasant'st words that euer blotted paper. Gentle Lady when I did first impart my loue to you, I freely told you all the wealth I had ranne in my vaines, I was a gentleman, and then I told you true: and yet deere Lady rating my selfe at nothing, you shall see how much I was a Braggart, when I told you my state was nothing, I should then haue told you that I was worse then nothing; for indeede I haue ingag'd my selfe to a deere friend, ingag'd my friend to his meere enemie to feede my meanes. Heere is a letter Lady, the paper as the body of my friend, and euery word in it a gaping wound issuing life blood. But is it true {Salerio} hath all his ventures faild, what not one hit, from Tripolis, from Mexico and England, from Lisbon, Barbary, and India, and not one vessell scape the dreadfull touch of Merchant-#marring rocks? Not one my Lord. Besides, it should appeare, that if he had the present money to discharge the Iew, hee would not take it: neuer did I know a creature that did beare the shape of man so keene and greedie to confound a man. He plyes the Duke at morning and at night, and doth impeach the freedome of the state if they deny him iustice. Twentie Merchants, the Duke himselfe, and the Magnificoes of greatest port haue all perswaded with him,

+ but none can driue him from the enuious plea of forfaiture, of iustice, and his bond. When I was with him, I haue heard him sweare to {Tuball} and to {Chus}, his country-#men, that he would rather haue {Anthonios} flesh then twentie times the value of the summe that he did owe him: and I know my lord, if law, authoritie, and power denie not, it will goe hard with poore {Anthonio}. Is it your deere friend that is thus in trouble? The deerest friend to me, the kindest man, the best conditiond and vnwearied spirit in dooing curtesies: and one in whom the auncient Romaine honour more appeares then any that drawes breath in Italie. What summe owes he the Iew? For me three thousand ducats. What no more, pay him six thousand, & deface the bond: double sixe thousand, and then treble that, before a friend of this discription shall lose a haire through {Bassanios} fault. First goe with me to Church, and call me wife, and then away to Venice to your friend: for neuer shall you lie by {Portias} side with an vnquiet soule. You shall haue gold to pay the petty debt twenty times ouer. When it is payd, bring your true friend along, my mayd {Nerrissa}, and my selfe meane time will liue as maydes and widdowes; come away, for you shall hence vpon your wedding day: bid your freends welcome, show a merry cheere, since you are deere bought, I will loue you deere. But let me heare the letter of your friend. {Sweet} Bassanio, {my ships haue all miscaried, my Creditors growe} + {cruell, my estate is very low, my bond to the Iewe is forfaite, and since in} + {paying it, it is impossible I should liue, all debts are cleerd betweene you}

+ {and I if I might but see you at my death: notwithstanding, vse your plea%sure}, {if your loue do not perswade you to come, let not my letter}. O loue! dispatch all busines and be gone. Since I haue your good leaue to goe away, I will make #hast; but till I come againe, no bed shall ere be guiltie of my stay, nor rest be interposer twixt vs twaine. + Iaylor, looke to him, tell not me of mercie, this is the foole that lent out money gratis. Iaylor, looke to him. Heare me yet good {Shylock}. Ile haue my bond, speake not against my bond, I haue sworne an oath, that I will haue my bond: thou call'dst me dogge before thou hadst a cause, but since I am a dog, beware my phanges, the Duke shall graunt me iustice, I do wonder thou naughtie Iaylor that thou art so fond to come abroade with him at his request. I pray thee heare me speake. Ile haue my bond. I will not heare thee speake, Ile haue my bond, and therefore speake no more. Ile not be made a soft and dull eyde foole, to shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yeeld to christian intercessers: follow not, Ile haue no speaking, I will haue my bond. It is the most impenitrable curre that euer kept with men. Let him alone, Ile follow him no more with bootlesse prayers,

+ hee seekes my life, his reason well I know; I oft deliuerd from his forfeytures many that haue at times made mone to me, therefore he hates me. I am sure the Duke will neuer grant this forfaiture to hold. The Duke cannot denie the course of law: for the commoditie that strangers haue with vs in Venice, if it be denyed, will much impeach the iustice of the state, since that the trade and profit of the citty consisteth of all Nations. Therefore goe, these griefes and losses haue so bated me that I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh to morrow, to my bloody Creditor. Well Iaylor on, pray God {Bassanio} come to see me pay his debt, and then I care not. + Maddam, although I speake it in your presence, you haue a noble and a true conceite of god-#like amitie, which appeares 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 releefe, how deere a louer of my Lord your husband, I know you would be prouder of the worke then customarie bountie can enforce you. I neuer did repent for dooing good, nor shall not now: for in companions that doe conuerse and #wast the time together, whose soules doe beare an egall yoke of loue, there must be needes a like proportion of lyniaments, of manners, and of spirit; which makes me thinke that this {Anthonio} beeing the bosome louer of my Lord, must needes be like my Lord. If it be so,

+ How little is the cost I haue bestowed in purchasing the semblance of my soule; From out the state of hellish cruelty, This comes too neere the praising of my selfe, Therefore no more of it: heere other things {Lorenso} I commit into your hands, The husbandry and mannage of my house, Vntill my Lords returne: for mine owne part I haue toward heauen breath'd a secret vowe, To liue in prayer and contemplation, Onely attended by {Nerrissa} heere, Vntill her husband and my Lords returne, There is a Monastry two miles off, And there we will abide. I doe desire you not to denie this imposition, the which my loue and some necessity now layes vpon you. Madame, with all my hart, I shall obey you in all faire commaunds. My people doe already know my mind, And will acknowledge you and {Iessica} in place of Lord {Bassanio} and my selfe. So far you well till we shall meete againe. Faire thoughts and happy houres attend on you. I wish your Ladiship all harts content. I thank you for your wish, and am well pleasd to wish it back on you: far you well {Iessica}. Now {Balthaser}, as I haue euer found thee honest true, So let me find thee still: take this same letter, and vse thou all th' #indeuour of a man, In speede to Mantua, see thou render this into my cosin hands Doctor {Belario}, And looke what notes and garments he doth giue thee, bring them I pray thee with imagin'd speede vnto the Tranect, to the common Ferrie which trades to Venice; #wast no time in words but get thee gone, I shall be there before thee.

+ Madam, I goe with all conuenient speede. Come on {Nerrissa}, I haue worke in hand That you yet know not of; weele see our husbands before they thinke of vs? Shall they see vs? They shall {Nerrissa}: but in such a habite, that they shall thinke we are accomplished with that we lacke; Ile hold thee any wager when we are both accoutered like young men, ile proue the prettier fellow of the two, and weare my dagger with the brauer grace, and speake betweene the change of man and boy, with a reede voyce, and turne two minsing steps into a manly stride; and speake of frayes like a fine bragging youth: and tell quaint lyes how honorable Ladies sought my loue, which I denying, they fell sicke and dyed. I could not doe withall: then ile repent, and wish for all that, that I had not killd them; And twenty of these punie lies ile tell, that men shall sweare I haue discontinued schoole aboue a twelue-#moneth: I haue within my minde a thousand raw tricks of these bragging Iacks, which I will practise. Why, shall we turne to men? Fie, what a question's that, if thou wert nere a lewd interpreter: But come, ile tell thee all my whole deuice when I am in my coach, which stayes for vs at the Parke gate; and therefore #hast away, for we must measure twenty miles to day. + + Yes truly, for looke you, the sinnes of the Father are to be laid vpon the children, therefore I promise you, I feare you, I was alwaies plaine with you, and so now I speake my agitation of the matter: therefore be a good chere, for truly I thinke you are damnd, there is but one hope in it that can doe you any good, and

+ that is but a kinde of bastard hope neither. And what hope is that I pray thee? Marry you may partly hope that your Father got you not, that you are not the Iewes daughter. + That were a kind of bastard hope in deede, so the sinnes of my mother should be visited vpon me. Truly then I feare you are damnd both by father and + mother: thus when I shun {Scilla} your father, I fall into {Caribdis} your mother; well, you are gone both wayes. + I shall be sau'd by my husband, he hath made me a Chri%stian? _ Truly the more to blame he, we were Christians enow before, #in as many as could well liue 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 haue a rasher on the coles for mony. + Ile tell my husband {Launcelet} what you say, here he come? + I shall grow iealious of you shortly {Launcelet}, if you thus get my wife into corners? + Nay, you neede not feare vs {Lorenzo}, {Launcelet} and I are out, he tells me flatly there's no mercy for mee in heauen, because I am a Iewes daughter: and he sayes you are no good member of the common-#wealth, for in conuerting Iewes to Christians, you raise the price of porke. + I shall aunswere that better to the common-#wealth than you can the getting vp of the Negroes belly: the Moore is with child by you {Launcelet}? + It is much that the Moore should be more then rea%son: but if she be lesse then an honest woman, she is indeede more then I tooke her for. How euery foole can play vpon the word, I thinke the + best grace of wit will shortly turne into silence, and discourse grow commendable in none onely but Parrats: goe in sirra, bid them prepare for dinner? That is done sir, they haue all stomacks? Goodly Lord what a wit snapper are you, than bid them prepare dinner?

+ That is done #to sir, onely couer is the word. Will you couer than sir? Not so sir neither, I know my duty. Yet more quarrelling with occasion, wilt thou shewe the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant; I pray thee vnderstand a plaine man in his plaine meaning: goe to thy fellowes, bid them couer the table, serue in the meate, and we will come in to dinner. + For the table sir, it shall be seru'd in, for the meate sir, it + shall be couerd, for your comming in to dinner sir, why let it be as humors and conceites shall gouerne. O deare discretion, how his words are suted, The foole hath planted in his memorie an Armie of good words, and I doe know a many fooles that stand in better place, garnisht like him, that for a tricksie word defie the matter: how cherst thou {Iessica}, And now good sweet say thy opinion, How doost thou like the Lord {Bassanios} wife? Past all expressing, it is very meete the Lord {Bassanio} liue an vpright life For hauing such a blessing in his Lady, he findes the ioyes of heauen heere on earth, And if on earth he doe not meane it, it in reason he should neuer come to heauen? Why, if two Gods should play some heauenly match, and on the wager lay two earthly women, And {Portia} one: there must be somthing else paund with the other, for the poore rude world hath not her fellow. Euen such a husband hast thou of me, as she is for wife. Nay, but aske my opinion #to of that? I will anone, first let vs goe to dinner? Nay, let me praise you while I haue a stomack? No pray thee, let it serue for table talke, Then how so mere thou speakst mong other things, I shall disgest it?

+ Well, ile set you forth. + What, is {Anthonio} heere? Ready, so please your grace? I am sorry for thee, thou art come to aunswere a stonie aduersarie, an inhumaine wretch, vncapable of pitty, voyd, and empty from any dram of mercie. I haue heard your grace hath tane great paines to quallifie his rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate, And that no lawfull meanes can carry me out of his enuies reach, I doe oppose my patience to his furie, and am armd to suffer with a quietnes of spirit, the very tiranny and rage of his. Goe one and call the Iew into the Court. He is ready at the dore, he comes my Lord. Make roome, and let him stand before our face. {#Shylocke} the world thinks, and I thinke so #to that thou but leadest this fashion of thy mallice to the last houre of act, and then tis thought thowlt shew thy mercy and remorse more strange, than is thy strange apparant cruelty; and where thou now exacts the penalty, which is a pound of this poore Merchants flesh, thou wilt not onely loose the forfaiture, but toucht with humaine gentlenes and loue: Forgiue a moytie of the principall, glauncing an eye of pitty on his losses that haue of late so hudled on his backe, Enow to presse a royall Merchant downe; And pluck comiseration of this states from brassie bosomes and rough harts of flints, from stubborne Turkes, and Tarters neuer traind

+ to offices of tender curtesie: We all expect a gentle aunswere Iewe? I haue possest your grace of what I purpose, and by our holy Sabaoth haue I sworne to haue the due and forfet of my bond, if you deny it, let the danger light vpon your charter and your Citties freedome? Youle aske me why I rather choose to haue a weight of carrion flesh, then to receaue three thousand ducats: Ile not aunswer that? But say it is my humour, is it aunswerd? What if my house be troubled with a Rat, and I be pleasd to giue ten thousand ducats to haue it baind? what, are you aunswerd yet? Some men there are loue not a gaping pigge? Some that are mad if they behold a Cat? And others when the bagpipe sings ith nose, cannot containe their vrine for affection. Maisters of passion swayes it to the moode of what it likes or loathes, now for your aunswer: As there is no firme reason to be rendred why he cannot abide a gaping pigge? why he a harmelesse necessarie Cat? why he a woollen bagpipe: but of force must yeeld to such in euitable shame, as to offend himselfe being offended: So can I giue no reason, nor I will not, more then a lodgd hate, and a certaine loathing I beare {Anthonio}, that I follow thus a loosing sute against him? are you aunswered? This is no aunswer thou vnfeeling man, to excuse the currant of thy cruelty? I am not bound to please thee with my answers? Doe all men kill the things they doe not loue? Hates any man the thing he would not kill? Euery offence is not a hate at first? What wouldst thou haue a serpent sting thee twice?

+ I pray you think you question with the Iewe, you may as well goe stand vpon the Beach and bid the maine flood bate his vsuall height, You may as well vse question with the Woolfe, Why he hath made the Ewe bleake for the Lambe: You may as well forbid the mountaine of Pines to wag their high tops, and to make no noise when they are fretten with the gusts of heauen: You may as well doe any thing most hard as seeke to soften that then which what's harder: his Iewish hart? therefore I doe beseech you make no moe offers, vse no farther meanes, but with all briefe and plaine conueniencie let me haue iudgement, and the Iewe his #will? For thy three thousand ducats heere is sixe? If euery ducat in sixe thousand ducats were in sixe parts, and euery part a ducat, I would not draw them, I would haue my bond? How shalt thou hope for mercy rendring none? What iudgment shall I dread doing no wrong? you haue among you many a purchast slaue, which like your Asses, and your Dogs and Mules you vse in abiect and in slauish parts, because you bought them, shall I say to you, let them be free, marry them to your heires? why sweat they vnder burthens, let their beds be made as soft as yours, and let their pallats be seasond with such viands, you will aunswer the slaues are ours, so doe I aunswer you: The pound of flesh which I demaund of him is deerely bought, as mine and I will haue it: if you deny me, fie vpon your Law, there is no force in the decrees of Venice: I stand for iudgement, aunswer, shall I haue it? Vpon my power I may dismisse this Court, vnlesse {Bellario} a learned Doctor, whom I haue sent for to determine this