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.

By my troth Nerrissa, my little body is a wearie of this great world.

You would be sweet Madam, if your miseries were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are: and yet for ought I see, they are as sick that surfet with too much, as they that statue with nothing; it is no meane happinesse therefore to be seated in the meane, superfluity comes sooner by white haires, but competency liues, longer.

Good sentences, and well pronounced.

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 twenty what were good to bee done, then to be one of the twenty to follow mine owne teach­ing: the braine may deuise lawes for the blood, but a hot tem­per leapes ore a colde decree, such a hare is madnesse the youth, to skip ore the meshes of good counsell the cripple; but this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me a husband; O me, the word choose, I may neyther choose who I would, nor refuse who I dislike, so is the will of a liuing daughter curbd by the will of a dead father: is it not hard Nerissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none.

Your father was euer vertuous, and holy men at their death haue good inspirations, therefore the lottry that he hath deuised in these three chests of gold, siluer, and leade, whereof who chooses his meaning chooses you, no doubt you wil neuer be chosen by any rightly, but one who shall rightly loue: But what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these Princely suters that are already come?

I prethee 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 Neapolitane Prince.

I that's a colt indeed, for hee doth nothing but talke of his horse, and he makes it a great appropriation vnto his owne good parts, that he can shoo himselfe: I am much afeard my La­dy his Mother plaid false with a smith.

Then there is the County Palatine.

He doth nothing but frowne (as who should say, if you will not haue me, choose; he heares merry tales and smiles not, I feare he will prooue the weeping Philosopher whē he growes old, being so full of vnmannerly sadnesse in his youth.) I had ra­ther be married to a deaths head with a bone in his mouth, then [Page] to eyther 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 know it is a sinne to be a mocker, but he, why he hath a horse better then the Neapolitans, a better bad habite of frow­ning then the Count Palatine, hee is euery man in no man, if a Trassell sing, hee fals straight a capting, hee will fence with his owne shadow. If I should marry him, I should marry twenty husbands: if he would despise me, I would forgiue him, for if he loue me to madnesse, I shall neuer requite him.

What say you then to Fauconbridge, the young Baron of England?

You know I say nothing to him, for he 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 penni­worth in the English: he is a proper mans picture, but alas who can conuerse with a dumbe show? how odly he is suted, I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, and his behauiour euery where.

What thinke you of the Scottish Lord his Neigh­bour?

That he hath a neighbourly charity in him, for he bor­rowed a boxe of the eare of the Englishman, and swore he wold pay him againe when he was able: I thinke the Frenchman be­came his surety, and scald vnder for another.

How like you the young Germaine, the Duke of Saxo­uies nephew?

Very vildely in the morning when he is sober, and most vilely in the afternoone when he is drunke: when he is best, hee is a little worse then a man, and 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 go without him.

If he should offer to choose, and choose the right Cas­ket, you should refuse to performe your fathers wil, if you shold refuse to accept him.

Therfore for feare of the worst, I prethee set a deep glasse [Page] of Reynish Wine on the contrary Casket, for if the diuell bee within, and that temptation without, I know he will choose it. I will do any thing Nerissa, ere ile be married to a spunge.

You need not feare Lady, the hauing any of these Lords, they haue acquainted me with their determinations, which is indeed to returne to their home, and to trouble you with no more sute, vnlesse you may be won by some other sort then your fathers imposition, depending on the Caskets.

If I liue to be as olde as Sibilla, I will die as chaste as Di­ana, vnlesse I bee obtained by the manner of my fathers will: I am glad this parcell of wooers are so reasonable, for there is not one among them but I dote on his very absence; & I pray God grant them a faire departure.

Do you not remember Lady in your fathers time, a Ve­netian Scholler and a Souldior that came hitherin company of the Marquesse of Mountferrat?

Yes, yes, it was Bassanio, as I thinke he was so call'd.

True Maddam, he of all the men that euer my foolish eyes lookt vpon, was the best deseruing a faire Lady.

I remember him well, and I remember him worthy of thy praise.

How now, what newes?

The foure strangers seeke for you Madame, to take their leaue; and there is a fore-runner come from a fift, the Prince of Moroco, who brings word the Prince his Master will be heere to night.

If I could bid the fift welcome, with so good a heart as I can bid the other foure farwell, I should be glad of his approch: if he haue the condition of a Saint, and the complection of a di­uell, I had rather he should shriue me then wiue me. Come Ner­rissa, sirra go before: whiles we shut the gates vpon one wooer, another knocks at the doore.

Three thousand ducats, well.

I sir, for three months.

For three moneths, well.

For the which as I told you, Anthonio shall be bound.

Anthonio shall become bound, well.

Three thousand ducats for three moneths, and Anthonio bound.

Your answere 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 me, that he is sufficient, yet his meanes are in supposition: he hath an Argosie bound to Tripo­lis, another to the Indies, I vnderstand moreouer vpon the Ryal­ta, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England, & other ven­tures he hath squandred abroad, but ships are but boards, Say­lers but men; there be land rats, and water rats, water theeues, and land theeues, I meane Pyrats, and then there is the perill of waters, windes, and rockes: the man is notwithstanding suffici­ent, three thousand ducats, I thinke I may take his bond.

Be assured you may.

I will be assured I may: and that I may be assured, I will bethinke me, may I speake with Anthonio?

If it please you to dine with vs.

Yes, to smell porke, to eate of the habitation which your Prophet the Nazarite coniured the diuell into: I will 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 signiour Anthonio.

Hie thee gentle Iew: the Hebrew will turne Christian, he growes so kinde.

Certainly, my conscience will serue me to run from this Iew my master. The fiend is at mine elbow, and tempts me saying to mee, Gobbo, Lancelet Gobbo, good Lancelet, or good Gobbo, or good Lancelet Gobbo, vse your legges, take the starte, runne away: My Conscience sayes no; take heed honest Lance­let, take heede honest Gobbo, or as aforesaide, honest Launcelet Gobbo, do not runne, scorne running with thy heeles. Well, the most couragious fiend bids me packe fia sayes the fiend, away sayes the fiend, for the heauens rouse vp a braue mind sayes the fiend, and runne. Well, my conscience hanging about the neck of my heart, sayes very wisely to me; My honest friend Lance­let, being an honest mans sonne, or rather an honest womans sonne, for indeede my Father did something smack, something grow too, he had a kinde of taste: well, my conscience sayes [Page] bouge not; bouge saies the fiend; bouge not sayes my Con­science. Conscience say I you counsell well; Fiend say I you counsell ill. To be rul'd by my Conscience, I should stay with the Iew my master, who (God blesse the marke) is a kinde of diuell; and to runne away from the Iew, I should be rul'de by the fiend, who (sauing your reuerence) is the Diuell himselfe. Certainly the Iew is the very diuell incarnall, and in my consci­ence, my conscience is but a kinde of hard conscience, to offer to counsell me to stay with the Iew. The fiende giues the more friendly counsaile, I will run fiend, my heeles are at your com­mand, I will run.

Master yong man, you I pray you, which is the way to Master Iewes?

O heauens, this is my true begotten Father, who be­ing more then sand blind, high grauell blinde, knowes me not, I will try conclusions with him.

Master yong Gentleman, I pray you which is the way to master Iewes?

Turne vp on your right hand at the next turning, but at the next turning of all on your left; marry at the verie nexte turning turne of no hand, but turne downe indirectly vnto the Iewes house.

Be Gods sonties twill bee a hard way to hit, can you tell me whither one Lancelet that dwels with him, dwell with him, or no?

Talke you of young master Lancelet? Marke mee now, now will I raise the waters:

Talke you of yong M. Lancelet?

Well, let his Father be what a will, we talk of yong [Page] Master Launcelet.

Your worships friend, and Lancelet sir.

But I pray you ergo olde man, ergo I beseech you, talke you of yong M. Lancelet.

Of Lancelet an't please your mastership.

Ergo master Lancelet, talke not of maister Lancelet Fa­ther; for the yong Gentleman according to fates and destinies, and such odd sayings, the sisters three, and such braunches of learning, is indeed deceased, or as you would say in plain terms, gone to heauen.

Marry God forbid, the boy was the verie staffe of my age, my very prop.

Do I looke like a cudgell or a houell poste, a staffe, or a prop: do you know me Father.

A lacke the day, I know you not yong Gentleman, but I pray you tell mee, is my boy (GOD rest his soule) aliue or dead.

Do you not know me Father?

Alacke sir, I am sand blinde, I know you not.

Nay, in deede if you had your eyes you might faile of the knowing me: it is a wise Father that knowes his own child. Well, olde man, I will tell you newes of your sonne, giue mee your blessing; Trueth will come to light, Murther cannot be hidde long, a mans sonne may, but at the length 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 me your blessing; I am Lancelot your boy that was, your son that is, your child that shall be.

I cannot thinke you are my sonne.

I know not what I shall thinke of that, but I am Lan­celet the Iews man, and I am sure Margery your wife is my mo­ther.

Her name is Margery indeede, ile be sworne if thou bee Lancelet, thou art mine owne flesh and blood: Lord worshipt [Page] might he be, what a beard hast thou got? thou hast got more haire on thy chin, then Dobbin my pilhorse has on his tale.

It should seeme then that Dobbins taile growes back­ward. I am sure he had more haire of his tayle then I haue of my face, when I last saw him.

Lord how art thou chang'd: how doest thou and thy Master agree? I haue brought him a present; how agree 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 run some ground; My master's a very Iew, 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 Master Bassanio, who indeed giues rare new liueries, if I serue not him, I will runne as farre as God has any ground. O rare fortune, here comes the man, to him Father, for I am a Iew if I serue the Iew any longer.

You may doe so, but let it be so hasted that supper be ready at the farthest by fiue of the clocke: see these Letters de­liuered, put the Lyueries to making, and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging.

To him Father.

God blesse your Worship.

Gramercy, wouldst thou ought with me?

Here's my sonne sir, a poore boy.

Not a poore boy sir, but the rich Iewes man that wold sir, as my father shall specifie.

He hath a great infection sir, as one would say to serue.

Indeed the short and the long is, I serue the Iew, and haue a desire as my Father shall specifie.

His Master and he (sauing your worships reuerence) are scarse catercosins.

To be briefe, the very truth is, that the Iew hauing don me wrong, doth cause me as my Father, being I hope, an olde man, shall frutifie vnto you.

I haue heere a dish of Doues that I would bestow vpon your worship: and my sute is—

In very briefe, the sute is impertinent to my selfe, as your worship shal know 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 verie defect of the matter sir.

The old Prouerbe is very well parted between my ma­ster Shylock and you sir, You haue the grace of God sir, and hee hath enough.

Father in, I cannot get a seruice, no, I ha nere a tongue in my head. Well, if any man in Italy haue a fairer table which doth offer to sweare vppon a booke, I shall haue good fortune. Go too, heere's a simple line of life, here's a smal trifle of wiues: Alas, fifteene wiues is nothing, eleuen VViddowes and nine maids, is a simple comming in for one man, and then to escape drowning thrice, and to be in perill of my life with the edge of a feather-bed, heere are simple scapes: well, if Fortune bee a woman, shee's a good wench for this geere. Father, come, ile take my leaue of the Iew in the twinkling of an eye.

Where's your Master.

Yonder sir he walkes.

Signior Bassanio.

Gratiano?

I haue a sute to you.

You haue obtain'd it.

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

Adew, teares exhibite my tongue, most beautifull Pa­gan, most sweete Iew, if a Christian doe not play the knaue and get thee, I am much deceiued; but adew, these foolish drops do something drowne my manly spirit: adieu.

Marry sir, to bid my olde Master the Iew to sup to night with my new Master the Christian.

Your worship was wont to tell me, that I could do no­thing without bidding.

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 six a clock in the morning, falling out that yeare on Ashwensday was four yeare in th' afternoone.

Now, what newes on the Ryalto?

Why yet it liues there vncheckt, that Anthonio hath a ship of rich lading wrackt on the narrowe seas; the Goodwins I thinke they call the place, a very dangerous flat, & fatal, wher the carkasses of many a tall shippe lie buried, as they say, if my gossips report be an honest woman of her word.

I would shee were as a lying gossippe in that, as euer knapt Ginger, or made her neighbors beleeue she wept for the death of a third husband: but it is true, without any slippes of prolixity, or crossing the plaine highway of talk, that the good [Page] Anthonio, the honest Anthonio, O that I had a title good inough to keepe his name company.

Come, the full stop.

Ha, what saist 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 deuill crosse my prayer, for heere he comes in the likenesse of a lew.

How now Shylocke, what newes among the Marchants?

And Shylocke for his owne part knew the Birde was fledg'd, and then it is the complexion of them all to leaue the Dam.

She is damn'd for it.

That's certaine, if the diuell may be her iudge.

My owne flesh and blood to rebell.

Out vpon it old carrion, rebels it at these yeares.

I say my daughter is my flesh and blood.

There is more difference betweene thy flesh and hirs, then betweene Iet and Iuory: more between your bloods, then there is between red wine & rennish: but tell vs, do you heare, whether Anthonio haue had at losse a sea or no?

There I haue another bad match, a bankrout, a prodigal, who dare scarse shew 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; he was wont to lend money for a Christian curtsie, let him looke to his bond.

Why I am sure if he forfet, thou wilt not take his flesh, what's that good for?

To baite fish withall; if it will feede nothing els it will feed my reuenge: he hath disgrac'd me, and hindred me halfe a million, laught at my losses, mockt at my gaines, scorned my na­tion, [Page] thwarted my bargaines, cooled my friendes, heated mine enemies, and what's his reason, I am a Iewe. Hath nos a Iewe eyes? hath not a Iew hands? organs, dimensions, senses, affecti­ons, passions? fed with the same food? hurt with the same wea­pons? subiect to the same diseases? healed by the same meanes? warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Chri­stian is? If you pricke vs, do we not bleede? If you tickle vs, do we not laugh? If you poyson vs, do wee not dye? And if you wrong vs, shall we not reuenge? If wee are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Iew wrong a Christian, what is his humility, Reuenge? If a Christian wrong a Iewe, what should his sufferance be by Christian example, why Reuenge? The villany you teach me I will execute, and it shall goe hard, but I will better the instruction.

Gentlemen, my master Anthonio is at his house, and desires to speake with you both.

We haue bene vp and downe to seeke him.

Here comes another of the Tribe, a third cannot bee matcht, vnlesse the diuell himselfe turne Iew.

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 Frankford. The curse neuer fell vp­on our Nation till now, I neuer felt it till now: two thousande ducats in that, and other precious precious iewels. I would my daughter were dead at my foote, and the iewels in her eare: O would shee 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 vpon losse, the theefe gone vvith so [Page] much, and so much to finde the Theefe, and no satisfaction, no reuenge, nor no ill lucke stirring but what lights on my shoul­ders, no sighes but of my breathing, no teares but of my shed­ding.

Yes, other men haue ill luck too, Anthonio as I heard in Genoway.

What, what, what ill lucke, ill lucke?

Hath an Argosie cast away comming from Tripolis.

I thanke God, I thanke God, ist true? ist true?

I spoke with some of the Saylers that escaped the wracke.

I thanke the good Tuball, good newes, good newes: ha ha, heere in Genoway.

Your daughter spent in Genoway, as I heard, in one night, fourescore ducats.

Thou stick'st a dagger in me, I shall neuer see my golde againe; fourescore ducates at a sitting! Fourescore ducats!

There came diuers of Anthonios Creditours in my company vnto Venice, that sweare that hee cannot choose but breake.

I am very glad of it, ile plague him, ile torture him, I am glad on't.

One of them shewed me a ring that hee had of your daughter for a Monkey.

Out vpon her: thou tortur'st me Tuball, it was my Tur­kies, I had it of Leah when I was a Batchellor. I would not haue giuen it for a wildernesse of Monkies.

But Anthonio is certainly vndone.

Nay, that's true, that's very true: go Tuball, fee mee an Officer, bespeake him a fortnight before, I will haue the heart of him if he forfeit. For were he out of Venice I can make what merchandize I will go: go Tuball, and meete me at our Syna­gogue, go good Tuball, at our Synagogue Tuball.

Sweet Bassanio, My ships haue all miscarried, my Creditors grow cruell, my estate is very low: my bond to the Iew is forfet, and since in paying it, it is impossible I should liue, all debts are cleered betweene you and I if I might but see you at my death. Notwithstanding, vse your pleasure; if your loue doe not perswade you to come, let not my Letter.

Yes truly, for looke you, the sinnes of the Father are to be laid vpon the children, therefore I promise ye I seare you, I was alwayes plaine with you, and so now I speake my agitation of the matter: therefore be a good cheere, for truly I think you are damn'd, ther is but one hope in it that can do you any good, and that is but a kind 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 indeede, so the sins of my mother should be visited vpon me.

Truely then I feare you are damn'd both by Father and Mother: thus when I shun Scilla your father, I fal into Charibdie your mother; well, you are gone both wayes.

I shall be sau'd by my husband, he hath made me a chri­stian.

Truly the more to blame he; we were Christians enow before, e'ne 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 Porke-eaters, we shall not shortly haue a rasher on the coles for money.

Ile tel my husband Lancelet what you say, here he comes.

I shall grow iealous of you shortly Lancelet, if you thus [Page] get my wife into corners.

Nay, you neede not feare vs Lorenzo, Launcelet and I are out; he tels me flatly, there's no mercy for me in heauen, bee­cause I am a lewes daughter: and he sayes you are no good mē ­ber of the Common-wealth, for in conuerting Iewes to Chri­stians, you raise the price of Porke.

I shall answere that better to the Common-wealth than you can the getting vp of the Negros belly; the Moore's with childe by you Lancelet?

It is much that the Moore should be more then rea­son: but if she be lesse then an honest woman, shee 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. Go in sirra, bid them prepare for dinner?

That is done sir, they haue all stomackes.

Goodly Lord what a wit-snapper are you: then bid thē prepare dinner.

That's 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 witte 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 couered, for your comming in to dinner sir, why let it be as humors and conceits shall gouerne.