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Drum. For the letter end of his name. jern man ; I'll slash ; I'll do it by the sword:
Biron. For the ass to the Jude; give it him :- I pray you, let me borrow my arms again.
Jud-as, away.

Dum. Room for the incensed worthies.
Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not Cost. I'll do it in iny shirt.
humble.

Dum. Most resolute Pompey! Boyet. A light for monsieur Judas: it grows Moth. Master, let me take you a buttonhole dark, he may stumble.

lower. Prin. Alas, poor Machabæus, how hath he Do you not see, Pompey is uncasing for the been baited!

combat?

What mean you 7 you will lose your reputation. Enter Armado arm'd, for Hector.

Arm. Gentlemen, and soldiers, pardon me; I Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles; here comes will not combat in my shirt. Hector in arins.

Dum. You may not deny it; Pompey hath Dum. Though my mocks come home by me,

made the challenge. I will now be merry.

Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will. King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of Biron. What reason have you for't ? this.

Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; Boyet. But is this Hector?

I go woolward for penance. Dum. I think, Hector was not so clean-tim- Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome ber'd.

for want of linen : since when, I'll be sworn, Long. His leg is too big for Hector.

he wore none, but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta's; Dum. More calf, certain.

and that 'a wears next his heart for a favour Boyet. No; he is best indued in the small.

Enter Mercade.
Biron. This cannot be Hector.
Dum. He's a god or a painter; for he makes Mer. God save you, madam.
faces.

Prin. Welcome, Mercade;
Arm. The armipotent Mars, of lances the al. But that thou interruptst our merriment.
mighty,

Mer. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring, Gave Hector a gift.

Is heavy in my tongue. The king your fatherDum. A gilt nutineg.

Prin. Dead, for my life. Biron. A lemon.

Mer. Even so; my tale is told. Long. Stuck with cloves.

Biron. Worthies, away; the scene begins to Dum. No, cloven.

cloud. Arm. Peace.

Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath: The armipotent Mars, cf lances the almighty, I have seen the day of wrong through the little

Gave Hector a gift, the heir of lion;. hole of discretion, and I will right myself like A man so breath'd, that certain he would fight, a soldier.

(Excunt Worthies. yea

King. How fares your majesty ? From morn till night, out of his parilion. Prin. Boyet, prepare ; I will away to-night. I am that flower,

King. Madam, not so ; I do beseech you, stay. Dum. That mint.

Prin. Prepare, I say.- I thank you, gracious Long

That columbine.

lords, Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.

For all your fair endeavours; and entreat, Long. I must rather give it the rein; for it Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe rans against Hector.

In your rich wisdom, to excuse, or hide, Dum. Ay, and Hector's a greyhonnd. The liberal opposition of our spirits : Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; If over-boldly we have borne ourselves sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried. In the converse of breath, your gentleness when he breath'd, he was a man-But I will Was guilty of it.-Farewell, worthy lord ! forward with my device: Sweet royalty, [lo A heavy heart bears not an humble tongue: the Princess. ] bestow on me the sense of hearing. Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks

[Biron whispers Costard. For my great suit so easily obtain'd. Prir. Speak, brave Hector; we are much de- King The extreme paris of time extremely lighted.

form Arm. 1 do adore thy sweet grace's slipper. All causes to the purpose of his speed; Boyet. Loves her by the foot.

And often, at his very loose, decides Dum. He may not by the yard.

That which long process could not arbitrate : Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hanni. And though the mourning brow of progeny bal,

Forbid the smiling conrtesy of love, Cost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is The holy suit which fain it would convince; gone; she is two months on her way.

Yet, since love's argument was first on foot, Arm. What meanest thou ?

Let no: the cloud of sorrow justle it Cost. 'Faith, unless you play the honest Tro- From what it purpos'd; since, to wail friends jan, the poor 'wench is cast away: she's quick; lost, the child brags in her belly already; 'tis yours. Is not by much so wholesome, profitable, Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among poten- As to rejoice at friends, but newly found. tates? thou shalt die.

Prin. 'I understand you not; my griefs are Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd, for Ja double. quenetta that is quick by him; and hang'd, for Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear Pompey that is dead by him.

of grief; Dum. Most rare Pompey!

And by these badges understand the king. Boyet. Renowned Pompey!

For your fair sakes have we neglected tiine, Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Play'd fond play with our oaths; your beauty, Pompey! Pompey the hugel

ladies, Dum. Hector trembles.

Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours Biron. Pompey is moved :-More Ates, more Even to the opposed end of our intents; Ates; stir them on ! stir them on!

And what in is hath seem'd ridiculous,Dum. Hector will challenge him.

As love is full of unbefitting strains ; Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain ; In's belly than will sup a flen.

Form'd by the eye, and therefore, like the eye, Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee. Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forma Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a north-Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll

To every varied object in his glance :

I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend. Which party-coated presence of loose love Long. I'll stay with patience; but the time is Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,

long. Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities, Mar. The liker you ; few taller are so young, Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults, Biron. Studies my lady ? mistress, look on me Suggested us to make : Therefore, ladies, Behold the window of mine heart, mine eye, Our love being yours, the error that love makes What humble suit attends thy answer there: Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false, Impose some service on me for thy love. By being once false for ever to be true

Ros. Oft have I heard of you, iny lord Biror, To those that make us both,-fair ladies, you: Before I saw you : and the world's large tongue And even that falsehood, in itself a sin, Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks; Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace. Fall of comparisons and wounding flouts; Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of which you on all estates will execute, love;

That lie within the mercy of your wit: Your favours, the ambassadors of love; To weed this wormwood from your fruitful And, in our maiden council, rated them

brain ; At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy, And, therewithal, to win me, if you please As bombast, and as lining to the time:

(Without the which, I am not to be won.) But more devout than this, in our respects, You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day Have we not been; and therefore met your loves Visit the speechless sick, and still converse In their own fashion, like a merriment.

With groaning wretches; and your task shall be, Dum. Our letters, madam, show'd much more With all the fierce endeavour of your wit, than jest,

To enforce the pained impotent to smile. Long. So did our looks.

Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of Ros.

We did not quote them so. death?
King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour, It cannot be; it is impossible :
Grant us your loves.

Mirth cannot move a soul in agony,
Prin.

A time, methinks, too short Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing To make a world-without-end bargain in :

spirit, No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur'd much, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace, Full of dear guiltiness; and, therefore this, Which shallow laughing hearers give lo fools: If for my love (as there is no such cause) A jest's prosperity lies in the ear You will do aught, this shall you do for me: of him that heurs it, never in the tongue Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears, To some forlorn and naked hermitage,

Deaf'd with the clamours of their own dear Remote from all the pleasures of the world;

groans, There stay, until the twelve celestial signs Will hear your idle scorns, continne then, Have brought about their annual reckoning: And I will have you, and that fault withal; If this austere insociable life

But, if they will not, throw away that spirit, Change not your offer made in heat of blood; And I shall find you enpty of that fault,

If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds, Right joyful of your reformation.
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love, Biron. A twelvemonth 7 well, befall what will
But that it bear this trial, and last love;

befall, Then, at the expiration of the year,

I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts, Prin. Ay, sweet my lord ; and so I take my And, by this virgin palm, now kissing thine,

leave.

[To the King I will be thine ; and, till that instant, shut King. No, madam ; we will bring you on your My woful self up in a mourning house ;

way. Raining the tears of lamentation,

Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old For the remembrance of my father's death.

play ; If this thou do deny, let our hands part; Jack hath not Jill: these ladies' courtesy Neither entitled in the other's heart.

Might well have made our sport a comedy, King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, King. Come, sir, it wapts a twelvemouth and

To flatter up these powers of mine with rest. a day.
The sudden hand of death close up mine eye! And then 'twill end.
Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. Biron.

That's too long for a play. Biron. And what to me, my love ? and what

Enter Armado. to me ? Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are

Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,rank;

Prin. Was not that Hector ? You are attaint with faults and perjury;

Dum. The worthy knight of Troy. Therefore, if you my favour mean to get,

Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, leave: I am a votary I have vowed to JaqueBut seek the weary beds of people sick.

netta to hold the plough for her sweet love three Dum. But what' to me, my love ? but what years. But, most esteemed greatness, will you to me ?

hear the dialogue that the two learned men have * Kath. A wife !-A beard, fair health, and how compiled, in praise of the owl and the cuckoo?

it should have followed in the end of our show. nesty; With three-fold love I wish you all these three. King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so. Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife ? Arm. Holla ! approach. Kath. Not so, my lord ;-a iwelvemonth and Enter Holofernes, Nathan:'), Moth, Costard, a day

and others. l'a mark no words that smooth-faced wooers This side is Hiems, winter; this Ver, the spring; say:

the one maintain'd by the owl, the other by the Come when the king doth to my lady come, cuckoo. Ver, begin. Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some.

SONG. Dum. l'll serve thee true and faithfully till

I. then. Kath. Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn Spring. When daisies pied, and violets blue, again.

And lady-smocks all silver-white, Long. What says Maria ?

And Cuckoo-buds of yellow hue,
Mar.
At the twelvemonth's end,

Do paint the meadows with delight,

The cuckoo then, on every tree,

And Tom bears logs into the hall,
Mocks married men, for ihus sings he,

And milk comes frozen home in pail,
Cuckoo;

When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul,
Cuckoo, cuckoo,-0 word of fear,

Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Unpleasing to a married ear!

To-who;
II.

To-whit, to-who, a merry note,

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,

IV.
And merry larks are ploughmen's
clocks,

When all aloud the wind doth blow,
When turtles tread, and rooks, and

And coughing drowns the parson's
daws,

said, And maidens bleach their summer

And birds sit brooding in the snow,
smocks,

And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
The cuckoo, ihen, on every tree,

When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Mocks married men, for thus sings he, Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Cuckoo;

To-who;
Cuckoo, cuckoo,-' word of fear,

To-whit, to-who, a merry note,
Unpleasing to a married ear!

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
III.

Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after
Winter. When icicles hang by the wall,

the songs of Apollo. You, that way; we, this And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, I way.

(Esteunt.

3

MERCHANT OF VENICE.

PERSONS REPRESENTED. DUKE of Venice.

OLD GOBBO, Father to Launcelot. Prince of Morocco, Suitors to Portia.

SALERIO, a Messenger from Venice. Prince of Arragon, }

LEONARDO, Servant to Bassanio. ANTONIO, the Merchant of Venice.

BALTHAZAR,

Servants to Portia. BASSANIO, his Friend.

STEPHANO, 3 SALANIO

Friends to Antonio and Bassa. PORTIA, a rich Heiress. SALARINO,

nio. GRATIANO,

NERISSA, her Waiting-Maid.
LORENZO, 'in love with Jessica.

JESSICA, Daughter to Shylock.
SHYLOCK, a Jew.
TUBAL, a Jew, his Friend.

Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court
LAUNCELOT 'GOBBO, a Clown, Servant to of Justice, Jailer, Servants, and other Atten-
Shylock.

dants. SCENE-partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the Seat of Portia, on the Continent.

ACT 1.

To kiss her burial. Should I go to church,

And see the holy edifice of stone,
SCENE I. Venice. A Street.

And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks,
Enter Antonio, Salarino, and Salanio. Which touching but my gentle vessel's side,
Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad; Would scatter all her spices on the stream ;
It wearies me; you say, it wearies you ;

Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks ;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, And, in a word, but even now worth this,
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, And now worth nothing ? Shall I have the thought
I am to learn;

To think on this; and shall I lack the thought,
And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, That such a thing, bechanc'd, would make me
That I have much ado to know myself.

sad ?
Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean; But, tell not me; I know, Antonio
There, where your argosies with portly sail, - Is sad to think upon his merchandise.
Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it,
Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea,-

My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,
Do overpeer the peity traffickers,

Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
That courl'sy to them, do them reverence, Upon the fortune of this present year:
As they fly by them with their woven wings. Therefore, my merchandise makes me not sad
Salan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, Salan. Why then you are in love
The better part of my affections would

Ant.

Fie, fie.
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still Salan. Not in love neither? Then let's say you
Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind; are sad,
Peering in maps, for ports, and piers, and roads; Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy
And every object, that might make me fear For you, to laugh, and leap, and say, you are
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt,

merry, Would make me sad.

Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed
Salar.

My wind, cooling my broth, Janus,
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought Nature hath' fram'd strange fellows in her time;
What harm a wind too great might do at sea. Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,
) should not see the sandy hour.glass run, And laugh, like parrots at a bagpiper;
But I should think of shallows and of flats; And other of such vinegar aspect,
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand, That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,
Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs, Though Nestor swear the Jest be laughable.

dice

Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano. Bass. 'Tis not unknown to yon, Antonio, Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble How much I have disabled mine estate, kinsman,

By something showing a more swelling port Gratiano, and Lorenzo : Fare you well; Than my faint means would grant continuance ; We leave you now with better company. Salar. I would have staid till I had made you is, to come fairly off from the great debts,

From such a noble rate; but my chief care merry, If worthier friends had not prevented me.

Wherein my time, something too prodigal, Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard.

Hath left me gag'd: To you, Antonio, I take it, your own business calls on you,

I owe the most, in money and in love; And you embrace the occasion to depart.

And from your love I have a warranty Salar. Good morrow, my good lords.

To unburden all my plots, and purposes Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? How to get clear of all the debts 1 owe. Say, when ?

Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; You grow exceeding strange: Must it be so ? And, if it stand, as you yourself 'still do, Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on Within the eye of honour, be assur'd,

yours. [Ereunt Salar. and Salan. My purse, my person, my extremest means, Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found Lie all unlock'd to your occasions. Antonio,

Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one We two will leave you; but at dinner time,

shaft, I pray you have in mind where we must meet.

I shot his fellow of the selfsame flight Bass. I will not fail you.

The selfsame way, with more advised watch, Gra. You look not well, signior Antonio;

To find the other forth; and, by advent'ring both, You have too much respect upon the world :

1 oft found both: I urge this childhood proof, They lose it, that do buy it with much care.

Because what follows is pure innocence. Believe me you are marvellously chang'd.

I owe you much; and, like a wilful youth, Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gra- That which I owe is lost: but if you please

To shoot another arrow that self way tiano; A stage, where every man must play a part,

Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, And mine a sad one.

As I will watch the aim, or to find both,
Gra.
Let me play the fool:

Or bring your latter hazard back again,
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come;

And thankfully rest debtor for the first. And let my liver rather heat with wine,

Ant. You know me well; and herein spend but Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.

time, Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong,

To wind about my love with circumstance:
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ?
Sleep when he wakes ? and creep into the jaun- Than if you had made waste of all I have:
By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio, That in your knowledge may by me be done,

Then do but say to me what I should do,
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks ;-
There are a sort of men, whose visages

And I am prest unto it: therefore, speak.
Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond;

Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left, And do a wilful stillness entertain,

And she is fair, and, fairer than that word, With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion

Of wondrous virtues : sometimes from her eyes Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;

I did receive fair speechless messages : As who should say, I am Sir Oracle,

Her name iz Portia ; nothing undervalued And, vhen I ope my lips, let no dog bark !

To Cato's daughter, Brutus? Portia. 0, my Antonio, I do know of these,

Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth; That therefore only are reputed wise,

For the four winds blow in from every coast For saying nothing; who, I am very sure,

Renowned suitors: and her sunny locks If they should speak, would almost damn those Hang on her temples like a golden fleece;

Which makes her seat of Belmont, Colchos' ears, Which, hearing them, would call their brothers and many Jásons come in quest of her.

strand, fools. I'll tell thee more of this another time:

O my Antonio, had I but the means But fish not, with this melancholy bait,

To hold a rival place with one of them, For this fool's gudgeon, this opinion.

I have a mind presages me such thrift, Come, good Lorenzo :-Fare ye well a while;

That I should questionless be fortunate. I'll end my exhortation after dinner.

Ant. Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner Neither have I money, nor commodity

sea; time: I must be one of these same dumb wise men,

To raise a present sum: therefore go forth, For Gratiano never lets me speak.

Try what my credit can in Venice do ; Gra. Well, keep me company but two years To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia.

That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost, more, Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own where money is ; and I no question make,

Go, presently inquire, and so will I, tongue. Ant. Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear.

To have it of my trust, or for my sake. (Eteunt. Gra. Thanks, i' faith ; for silence is only com- SCENE II. Belmont. A Room in Portia's mendable

House. In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. [Ereunt Gra. and Lor.

Enter Portia and Nerissa. Ant. Is that any thing now?

Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of no- aweary of this great world. thing more than any man in all Venice ; His Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two miseries were in the same abundance as your bushels of chaff; you shall seek all day ere you good fortunes are: And yet, for aught I see, they find them; and, when you have them, they are are as sick, that surfeit with too much, as they not worth the search.

that starve with nothing: It is no mean happiness Ant. Well; tell me now, what lady is this same therefore to be seated in the mean; superfluity To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, comes sooner by white hairs, but competency That you to-day promis'd to tell me of? Hlives longer.

Por. Good sentences, and well pronounced. isober; and most vilely in the afternoon, when Ner. They would be better, if well followed. he is drunk : when he is best, he is a little worse Por. If to do were as easy as to know what than a man; and when he is worst, he is little were good to do, chapels had been churches, better than a beast : and the worst fall that ever and poor men's cottages princes' palaces. It is fell, I hope, 1 shall make shift to go without him. a good divine that follows his own instructions: Ner. It' he should offer to choose, and choose I can easier teach twenty what were good to be the right casket, you should refuse to perform done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine your father's will, if you should refuse to accept own teaching. The brain may devise laws for him. the blood; but a hot temper leaps over a cold Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray decree ; such a hare is madness the youth, to thee, set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the cripple. contrary casket : for, if the devil be within, and But this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose that temptation without, I know he will choose me a husband :-0 me, the word choose ! I may it. I will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I will be neither choose whom I would, nor refuse whom married to a sponge. I dislike; so is the will of a living daughter Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any curh'd by the will of a dead father: Is it not of these lords; they have acquainted me with hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose one, nor re- their determinations: which is, indeed, to return fuse none?

to their home, and to trouble you with no more Ner. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy suit; unless you may be won by some other sort men, at their death, have good inspirations; than your father's imposition, depending on the therefore, the lottery, that he hath devised in caskets. these three chests, of gold, silver, and lead, Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die (whereof who chooses his meaning, chooses as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the you,) will, no doubt, never be chosen by any manner of my father's will; lam glad this parcel righily, but one who you shall rightly love. But of wooers are so reasonable ; for there is not one what warmth is there in your aflection towards among them but I dote on his very absence, and any of these princely suitors that are already I pray God grant them a fair departure: come ?

Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your Por. I pray thee over-name them; and as thou father's time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a solnamest them, I will describe them : and, accord- dier, that came hither in company of the mar. ing to my description level at my affection. quis of Montferrat? Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, so

Por. Ay, that's a colt, indeed, for he doth was he called. nothing but talk of his horse ; and he makes it Ner. True, madam ; he, of all the men that a great appropriation to his own good parts, that ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best he can shoe him himself: I am much afraid, my deserving a fair lady. lady his mother play'd false with a smith. Por. I remember him well; and I reinember Ner. Then, is there the county Palatine. him worthy of thy praise.-How now what Por. He doth nothing but frown; as who news? should say, An, if you will not have me, choose; he hears merry tales, and smiles not: I fear, he

Enter a Servant. will prove the weeping philosopher when he Serv. The four strangers seek for you, madam, grow's old, being so full of unmannerly sadness in to take their leave : and there is a fore-runner his youth I had rather be married io a death's come from a fifth, the prince of Morocco; who heart, with a bone in his mouth, than to either brings word, the prince, his master, will be here of these. God defend me from these two ! to-night.

Ner. How say you by the French lord, Mon Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so sieur Le Bon ?

good heart as I can bid the other four farewell, Por. God made him, and therefore let him I should be glad of his approach: if he have the pass for a man In truth, I know it is a sin to condition of a saint, and the complexion of be a mocker; But, he! why, he hath a horse devil, I had rather he should shrive me than better than the Neapolitan's; a better bad habit wive me.--Come, Nerissa.-Sirrah, go before. of frowning than the count Palatine : he is every Whiles we shut the gate upon one wooer, anman in no man: if a throstle sing, he falls other knocks at the door.

[Ereunt. straight a capering : he will fence with his own shadow: Ji I should marry him, I should marry SCENE III. Venice. A publick Place. twenty husbands : if he would despise me, I

Enter Bassanio and Shylock. would forgive him ; for if he love me to madness, I shall never requite him.

Shy. Three thousand ducats,-well. Ner. What say you then to Faulconbridge, the Bass. Ay, sir, for three months. young baron of England ?

Shy. For three months, -well. Por. You know, I say nothing to him ; for he Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio understands not me, nor 1 him: he hath neither shall be bound. Latin, French, nor Italian; and you will come Shy. Antonio shall become bound, -well. into the court and swear, that I have a poor Bass. May you stead me ? Will you pleasure peuny-worth in the English. He is proper ine? Shall I know your answer ? man's picture ; but, alas! who can converse Shy. Three thousand ducals, for three months, with a dub show ? How oddly he is suited ! 1 and Antonio bound. think, he bought his doublet in Italy, his round Bass. Your answer to that. hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, and his Shy. Antonio is a good man. behaviour everywhere.

Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his contrary? neighbour ?

Shy. Ho, no, no, no, no ;-my meaning in Por: That he hath a neighbourly charity, in saying he is a good man, is to have you underhim ; for he borrowed a box of the ear of the stand me, that he is sufficient : yet his means are Englishman, and swore he would pay him again, in supposition : he hath an argosy bound to Triwhen he was able: I think, the frenchman be- polis, another to the Indies; I understand more. came his surety, and sealed under for another. oves upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico,

Ner. How like you the young German, the a fourth for England, and other ventures he duke of Saxony's nephew ?

hath, squander'd abroad : But ships are but Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he is' boards sailors but men : there be land-rats, and

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