Shed tnou no blood; nor cut thou less, nor more,

But just a pound of flesh: if thou tak'st more,
Or less, than a just pound,-be it but so much
As makes it light, or heavy, in the substance,
Or the division of the twentieth part

Of one poor scruple; nay, if the scale do turn
But in the estimation of a hair,-
Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate.
Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew!
Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip.

Por. Why doth the Jew pause? take the forfeiture.

Shy. Give me my principal, and let me go. Bass. I have it ready for thee; here it is. Por. He hath refus'd it in the open court; He shall have merely justice, and his bond. Gra. A Daniel, still say I; a second Daniel!I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. Shy. Shall I not have barely my principal? Por. Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiTo be so taken at thy peril, Jew.

[ture

Shy. Why then the devil give him good of it!
I'll stay no longer question.
Por. Tarry, Jew;

The law hath yet another hold on you.
It is enacted in the laws of Venice,-
If it be prov'd against an alien,

That by direct, or indirect attempts,
He seek the life of any citizen,

The party, 'gainst the which he doth contrive,
Shall seize one half his goods; the other half
Comes to the privy coffer of the state;
And the offender's life lies in the mercy
Of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice.
In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st:
For it appears by manifest proceeding,
That indirectly, and directly too,
Thou hast contriv'd against the very life
Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr'd
The danger formerly by me rehears'd.
Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the duke.
Gra. Beg, that thou may'st have leave to hang
thyself:

And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state,
Thou hast not left the value of a cord;
Therefore, thou must be hang'd at the state's
charge.

Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of
our spirit,

Ipardon thee thy life before thou ask it:
For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's;
The other half comes to the general state,
Which humbleness may drive unto a fine.
Por. Ay, for the state; not for Antonio.
Shy. Nay, take my life and all, pardon not

that:

prop

You take my house, when you do take the
That doth sustain my house; you take my life,
When you do take the means whereby I live."
Por. What mercy can you render him, An-
tonio?

Gra. A halter gratis; nothing else; for God's

sake.

Ant. So please my lord the duke, and all the court,

To quit the fine for one half of his goods;
I am content, so he will let me have

The other half in use, to render it,

Upon his death, unto the gentleman

That lately stole his daughter:

recant

Duke. He shall do this; or else I The pardon, that I late pronounced here. Por. Art thou contented, Jew, what dost thou say?

Shy. I am content.

Por. Clerk, draw a deed of gift.

Shy. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence;

I am not well; send the deed after me,
And I will sign it.

Duke. Get thee gone, but do it.
Gra. In christening thou shalt have two god-
fathers;

[more, Had I been judge, thou should'st have had ten To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. [Exit SHYLOCK.

Duke. Sir, I entreat you home with me to

dinner.

Por. I humbly do desire your grace of pardon; I must away this night toward Padua, And it is meet, I presently set forth.

Duke. I am sorry, that your leisure serves you not.

Antonio, gratify this gentleman;

For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. [Exeunt DUKE, Magnificoes, and Train. Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend,

Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted
Of grievous penalties; in lieu whereof,
Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew,
We freely cope your courteous pains withal.
Ant. And stand indebted, over and above,
In love and service to you evermore.

Por. He is well paid, that is well satisfied;
And I, delivering you, am satisfied,
And therein do account myself well paid;
My mind was never yet more mercenary.
I pray you, know me, when we meet again;
I wish you well, and so I take my leave.

Bass. Dear Sir, of force I must attempt you

further;

Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute, Not as a fee: grant me two things, I pray you, Not to deny me, and to pardon me.

Por. You press me far, and therefore I will yield. [sake; Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for your And, for your love, I'll take this ring from [more; Do not draw back your hand; I'll take no And you in love shall not deny me this.

you :

Bass. This ring, good Sir,-alas, it is a trifle, I will not shame myself to give you this. Por. I will have nothing else but only this; And now, methinks, I have a mind to it. Bass. There's more depends on this, than on the value. The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, And find it out by proclamation; Only for this, I pray you, pardon me.

Por. I see, Sir, you are liberal in offers: You taught me first to beg; and now, methinks, You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd. Bass. Good Sir, this ring was given me by

my wife;

And, when she put it on, she made me vow, That I should neither sell, nor give, nor lose it. Por. That 'scuse serves many men to save their gifts.

And if your wife be not a mad woman,

She would not hold out enemy for ever,
For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you!
[Exeunt PORTIA and NERISSA.
Ant. My lord Bassanio, let him have the

ring;

But, hark, I hear the footing of a man.
Enter STEPHANO.

Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night?
Steph. A friend.

Lor. A friend? what friend? your name, I pray you, friend?

Steph. Stephano is my name; and I bring word,

My mistress will before the break of day
Be here at Belmont: she doth stray about
By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays
For happy wedlock hours.

Lor. Who comes with her?

Steph. None, but a holy hermit, and her maid. I pray you, is my master yet return'd? Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, [him.And ceremoniously let us prepare Some welcome for the mistress of the house.

Enter LAUNCELOT.

Laun. Sola, sola, wo ha, ho, sola, sola!
Lor. Who calls?

Laun. Sola! did you see master Lorenzo,
and mistress Lorenzo! sola, sola!
Lor. Leave hollaing, man; here.
Luun. Sola! where? where?
Lor. Here.

Laun. Tell him, there's a post come from my master, with his horn full of good news; my master will be here ere morning. [Exit.

Lor. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect

their coming.

And yet no matter;-Why should we go in?
My friend Stepháno, signify, I pray you,
Within the house, your mistress is at hand;
And bring your music forth into the air.-
[Exit STEPHANO.
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this
bank!

Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night,
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Sit, Jessica: Look, how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patines* of bright gold;
There's not the smallest orb, which thou be
hold'st,

But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubims:
Such harmony is in immortal souls;
But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.-~-

By the sweet power of music: Therefore, the
poet
{floods;
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and
Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage,
But music for the time doth change his nature:
The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,
is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus:
Let no such man be trusted.-Mark the music.

Enter PORTIA and NERISSA, at a distance.
Por. That light we see, is burning in my hall.
How far that little candle throws his beams!
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see
the candle.

Per. So doth the greater glory dim the less: A substitute shines brightly as a king, Until a king be by; and then his state Empties itself, as doth an inland brook Into the main of waters. Music! hark! Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house. Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect; Methinks, it sounds much sweeter than by day. Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the When neither is attended; and, I think, [lark, The nightingale, if she should sing by day, When every goose is cackling,would be thought No better a musician than the wren. How many things by season season'd are To their right praise and true perfection!-Peace, hoa! the moon sleeps with Endymion, And would not be awak'd!

Lor. That is the voice,

[Music ceases.

Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia.

Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows the cuckoo,

By the bad voice.

Lor. Dear lady, welcome home.

Por. We have been praying for our husbands' welfare,

Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. Are they return'd!

Lor. Madam, they are not yet;

But there is come a messenger before,
To signify their coming.

Por. Go in, Nerissa,

Give order to my servants, that they take
No note at all of our being absent hence ;—
Nor you, Lorenzo;-Jessica, nor you.

[A tucket sounds. Lør. Your husband is at hand, I hear his trumpet:

We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not. Por. This night, methinks, is but the daylight sick,

It looks a little paler; 'tis a day,
Such as the day is when the sun is hid.
Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and
their Followers.

Buss. We should hold day with the Antipodes,

If you would walk in absence of the sun. Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light;

For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, And never be Bassanio so for me;

But God sort all!-You are welcome home, my lord.

Bass. I thank you, madam: give welcome to my friend.

A flourish on a trumpet.

This is the man, this is Antonio,
To whom I am so infinitely bound.
Por. You should in all sense be much bound
to him,

For, as I hear, he was much bound for you.
Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of.
Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house:
It must appear in other ways than words,
Therefore, I scant this breathing courtesy.*

[GRATIANO and NERISSA seem to talk apart. Gra. By yonder moon, I swear, you do me

Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring That she did give me; whose posy was For all the world, like cutler's poetry Upon a knife, Love me, and leave me not.

Ner. What talk you of the posy, or the value? You swore to me, when I did give it you, That you would wear it till your hour of death; And that it should lie with you in your grave: Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, You should have been respective,† and have kept it.

Gave it a judge's clerk !-but well I know, The clerk will ne'er wear hair on his face, that had it.

Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man. Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth,A kind of boy; a little scrubbed boy, No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk; A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee; I could not for my heart deny it him.

Por. You were to blame, I must be plain with you,

To part so slightly with your wife's first gift;
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger,
And riveted so with faith unto your flesh.
I gave my love a ring, and made him swear
Never to part with it; and here he stands;
I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it,
Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth
That the world masters. Now,in faith, Gratiano,
You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief;
An 'twere to me, I would be mad at it.

Bass. Why, I were best to cut my left hand
off,

And swear, I lost the ring defending it. [Aside. Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away Unto the judge that begg'd it, and, indeed, Deserv'd it too; and then the boy, his clerk, That took some pains in writing, he begg'd [aught And neither man, nor master, would take But the two rings.

mine :

Por. What ring gave you, my lord?
Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me.
Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault,
I would deny it; but you see, my finger
Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone.

Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth.
By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed
Until I see the ring.

Ner. Nor I in yours, Till I again see mine.

Bass. Sweet Portia,

If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
If you did know for whom I gave the ring,
And would conceive for what I gave the ring
And how unwillingly I left the ring,

When naught would be accepted but the ring, You would abate the strength of your displea

sure.

Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring, Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, Or your own honour to contain the ring, You would not then have parted with the ring. What man is there so much unreasonable, If you had pleas'd to have defended it With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty To urge the thing held as a ceremony? Nerissa teaches me what to believe; I'll die for't, but some woman had the ring. Bass. No, by mine honour, madam, by my No woman had it, but a civil doctor, [soul, Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me, And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away; [him, Even he that had held up the very life Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet I was enforc'd to send it after him; [lady? I was beset with shame and courtesy; My honour would not let ingratitude So much besmear it: Pardon me, good lady; For, by these blessed candles of the night, Had you been there, I think you would have begg'd

The ring of me to give the worthy doctor.
Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my
house:

Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd,
And that which you did swear to keep for me,
I will become as liberal as you:
I'll not deny him any thing I have,
No, not my body, nor my husband's bed:
Know him I shall, I am well sure of it:
Lie not a night from home; watch me, like
If you do not, if I be left alone, [Argus:
Now, by mine honour, which is yet my own,
I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow.

Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advis'd,

How you do leave me to mine own protection. Gra. Well, do you so let me not take him then;

For, if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen. Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels.

Por. Sir, grieve not you; You are welcome notwithstanding.

Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong; And, in the hearing of these many friends, I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, Wherein I see myself,

Por. Mark you but that!

In both my eyes he doubly sees himself:
In each eye, one :-swear by your double self,
And there's an oath of credit.

Bass. Nay, but hear me:

Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear,
I never more will break an oath with thee.
Ant. I once did lend my body for his wealth;
Which, but for him that had your husband's
ring,
[To PORTIA.
Had quite miscarried: I dare be bound again,
My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord
Will never more break faith advisedly.

* Advantage.

ways

In summer, where the ways are fair enough: What! are we cuckolds, ere we have deserv'd it?

Por. Speak not so grossly.-You are all amaz'd:

Here is a letter, read it at your leisure;
It comes from Padua, from Bellario:
There you shall find, that Portia was the doctor;
Nerissa there, her clerk: Lorenzo here
Shall witness, I set forth as soon as you,
And but even now return'd; I have not yet
Enter'd my house.-Antonio, you are welcome;
And I have better news in store for you,
Than you expect: unseal this letter soon;
There you shall find, three of your argosies
Are richly come to harbour suddenly:
You shall not know by what strange accident
I chanced on this letter.

Ant. I am dumb.

Bass. Were you the doctor, and I knew you

not?

Gra. Were you the clerk, that is to make me cuckold?

Ner. Ay; but the clerk that never means to do it,

Unless he live until he be a man.

Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow;

When I am absent, then lie with my wife.
Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life,
and living;

For here I read for certain, that my ships
Are safely come to road.

Por. How now, Lorenzo?

My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. Ner. Ay, and I'll give them him without a There do I give to you, and Jessica, [fee.From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, After his death, of all he dies possess'd of.

Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Of starved people.

Por. It is almost morning,
And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied
Of these events at full: Let us go in;
And charge us there upon intergatories,
And we will answer all things faithfully.

Gra. Let it be so: The first intergatory,
That my Nerissa shall be sworn on, is,
Whether till the next night she had rather stay;
Or go to bed now, being two hours to day:
But were the day come, I should wish it dark,
That I were couching with the doctor's clerk.
Well, while I live, I'll fear no other thing
So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring.

ACT I.

Enter ORLANDO and ADAM. Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me: By will, but a poor thousand crowns; and, as thou say'st, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well: and there begins my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit: for my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak more properly, stays me here at home unkept: For call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses are bred better; for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly hired: but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for the which his animals on his dung-hills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave me, his countenance seems to take from me: he lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. That is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against this servitude: I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it.

Oli. Marry, Sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile.

Orl. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should come to such penury?

Oli. Know you where you are, Sir?
Orl. O, Sir, very well: here in your orchard.
Oli. Know you before whom, Sir?

Orl. Ay, better than he I am before knows me. I know, you are my eldest brother; and, in the gentle condition of blood, you should so know me: The courtesy of nations allows you my better, in that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us: I have as much of my father in me, as you; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is nearer to his

reverence.

Oli. What, boy!

Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this.

Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?

Orl. I am no villain:* I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Bois; he was my father; and he is thrice a villain, that says, such a father begot villains: Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat, till this other had pulled out thy tongue for saying so; thou hast railed on thyself,

Adam. Sweet masters be patient; for your father's remembrance, be at accord.

Oli. Let me go, I say.

Orl. I will not, till I please: you shall hear me. My father charged you in his will to give me good education: you have trained me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities: the spirit of any fa ther grows strong in me, and I will no longer * Villain is used in a double sense; by Oliver for worthless fellow, and by Orlando for a man of bṣée en traction.