 | The Merchant of Venice |  |
Actus Tertius.
Enter Solanio and Salarino.Sol.
Now, what newes on the Ryalto?
Sal.
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 carcasses of many a tall ship, lye
buried, as they say, if my gossips report be an honest woman
of her word.
Sol.
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; ô that
I had a title good enough to keepe his name company!
Sal.
Come, the full stop.
Sol.
Ha, what sayest thou, why the end is, he hath lost
a ship.
I would it might proue the end of his losses.
Sol.
Let me say Amen betimes, least the diuell crosse
my praier, for here he comes in the likenes of a Iew. How
now Shylocke, what newes among the Merchants?
Enter Shylocke.
Shy.
You knew none so well, none so well as you, of
my daughters flight.
Sal.
That's certaine, I for my part knew the Tailor
that made the wings she flew withall.
Sol.
And Shylocke for his own part knew the bird was
fledg'd, and then it is the complexion of them al to leaue
the dam.
Shy.
She is damn'd for it.
Sal.
That's certaine, if the diuell may be her Iudge.
Shy.
My owne flesh and blood to rebell.
Sol.
Out vpon it old carrion, rebels it at these yeeres.
Shy.
I say my daughter is my flesh and bloud.
Sal.
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 anie
losse at sea or no?
Shy.
There I haue another bad match, a bankrout, a
prodigall, who dare scarce shew his head on the Ryalto,
a begger that was vsd to come so smug vpon the Mart:
let him look 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.
Sal.
Why I am sure if he forfaite, thou wilt not take
his flesh, what's that good for?
Shy.
To baite fish withall, if it will feede nothing
else, it will feede my reuenge; he hath disgrac'd me, and
hindred me halfe a million, laught at my losses, mockt at
my gaines, scorned my Nation, thwarted my bargaines,
cooled my friends, heated mine enemies, and what's the
reason? I am a Iewe: Hath not a Iew eyes? hath not a
Iew hands, organs, dementions, sences, affections, passions,
fed with the same foode, hurt with the same weapons,
subiect to the same diseases, healed by the same
meanes, warmed and cooled by the same Winter and
Sommmer as a Christian is: if you pricke vs doe we not
bleede? if you tickle vs, doe we not laugh? if you poison
vs doe we not die? and if you wrong vs shall we not reuenge?
if we 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 Iew, what should his sufferance
be by Christian example, why reuenge? The villanie
you teach me I will execute, and it shall goe hard
but I will better the instruction.
Enter a man from Anthonio.
Gentlemen, my maister Anthonio is at his house, and
desires to speake with you both.
Sal.
We haue beene vp and downe to seeke him.
Enter Tuball.
Sol.
Here comes another of the Tribe, a third cannot
be matcht, vnlesse the diuell himselfe turne Iew.
Exeunt Gentlemen.
Shy.
How now Tuball, what newes from Genowa? hast
thou found my daughter?
Tub.
I often came where I did heare of ster, but cannot
finde her.
Shy.
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 now,
two thousand ducats in that, and other precious, precious
iewels: I would my daughter were dead at my foot,
and the iewels in her eare: would she were hearst at my
foote, and the duckets in her coffin: no newes of them,
why so? and I know not how much is spent in the search:
why thou losse vpon losse, the theefe gone with so
much, and so much to finde the theefe, and no satisfaction,
no reuenge, nor no ill luck stirring but what lights
a my shoulders, no sighes but a my breathing, no teares
but a my shedding.
Tub.
Yes, other men haue ill lucke too, Anthonio as I
heard in Genowa?
Shy.
What, what, what, ill lucke, ill lucke.
Tub.
Hath an Argosie cast away comming from Tripolis.
Shy.
I thanke God, I thanke God, is it true, is it true?
Tub.
I spoke with some of the Saylers that escaped
the wracke.
Shy.
I thanke thee good Tuball, good newes, good
newes: ha, ha, here in Genowa.
Tub.
Your daughter spent in Genowa, as I heard, one
night fourescore ducats.
Shy.
Thou stick'st a dagger in me, I shall neuer see my
gold againe, fourescore ducats at asitting, fourescore ducats.
Tub.
There came diuers of Anthonios creditors in my
company to Venice, that sweare hee cannot choose but
breake.
Shy,
I am very glad of it, ile plague him, ile torture
him, I am glad of it.
Tub.
One of them shewed me a ring that hee had of
your daughter for a Monkie.
Shy.
Out vpon her, thou torturest me Tuball, it was
my Turkies, I had it of Leah when I was a Batcheler: I
would not haue giuen it for a wildernesse of Monkies.
Tub.
But Anthonio is certainely vndone.
Shy.
Nay, that's true, that's very true, goe Tuball, see
me 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: goe Tuball,
and meete me at our Sinagogue, goe good Tuball, at our
Sinagogue Tuball.
Exeunt.
Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, and all their traine.
Por.
I pray you tarrie, pause a day or two
Before you hazard, for in choosing wrong
I loose your companie; therefore forbeare a while,
There's something tels me (but it is not loue)
I would not loose you, and you know your selfe,
Hate counsailes not in such a quallitie;
But least you should not vnderstand me well,
And yet a maiden hath no tongue, but thought,
I would detaine you here some month 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 of mine then yours,
And so all yours; O these naughtie times
Puts bars 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 ich 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.
Por.
Vpon the racke Bassanio, then confesse
What treason there is mingled with your loue.
Bass.
None but that vglie treason of mistrust.
Which makes me feare the enioying of my loue:
There may as well be amitie and life,
'Tweene snow and fire, as treason and my loue.
Por.
I, but I feare you speake vpon the racke,
Where men enforced doth speake any thing.
Bass.
Promise me life, and ile confesse the truth.
Por.
Well then, confesse and liue.
Bass.
Confesse and loue
Had beene the verie sum of my confession:
O happie torment, when my torturer
Doth teach me answers for deliuerance:
But let me to my fortune and the caskets.
Por.
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 musicke sound while he doth make his choise,
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 watrie 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 yong Alcides, when he did redeeme
The virgine tribute, paied 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 more dismay
I view the sight, then thou that mak'st the fray.
Here Musicke.
A Song the whilst Bassanio comments on the Caskets to himselfe.
Or in the heart, or in the head:
How begot, how nourished.
Replie, replie.
It is engendred in the eyes,
With gazing fed, and Fancie dies,
In the cradle where it lies:
Let vs all ring Fancies knell.
Ile begin it.
Ding dong, bell.
All.
Ding, dong, bell.
Bass.
So may the outward showes be least themselues
The world is still deceiu'd with ornament.
In Law, what Plea so tanted and corrupt,
But being season'd with a gracious voice,
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 grosenesse with faire ornament:
There is no voice so simple, but assumes
Some marke of vertue on his outward parts;
How manie cowards, whose hearts 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 valors excrement,
To render them redoubted. Looke on beautie,
And you shall see 'tis purchast by the weight,
Which therein workes a miracle in nature,
Making them lightest that weare most of it:
So are those crisped snakie golden locks
Which makes such wanton gambols with the winde
Vpon supposed fairenesse, often knowne
To be the dowrie 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 beautie; In a word,
The seeming truth which cunning times put on
To intrap the wisest. Therefore then thou gaudie 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 threatnest then dost promise ought,
Thy palenesse moues me more then eloquence,
And here choose I, ioy be the consequence.
Por.
How all the other passions fleet to ayre,
As doubtfull thoughts, and rash imbrac'd despaire:
And shuddring 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.
Bas.
What finde I here?
Faire Portias counterfeit. What demie God
Hath come so neere creation? moue these eies?
Or whether riding on the bals of mine
Seeme they in motion? Here are seuer'd lips
Parted with suger breath, so sweet a barre
Should sunder such sweet friends: here in her haires
The Painter plaies the Spider, and hath wouen
A golden mesh t'intrap the hearts of men
Faster then gnats in cobwebs: but her eies,
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 vnderprising it, so farre this shadow
Doth limpe behinde the substance. Here's the scroule,
The continent, and summarie of my fortune.
Chance as faire, and choose as true:
Since this fortune fals 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 kisse.
Bass.
A gentle scroule: Faire Lady, by your leaue,
I come by note to giue, and to receiue,
Like one of two contending in a prize
That thinks he hath done well in peoples eies:
Hearing applause and vniuersall shout,
Giddie in spirit, still gazing in a doubt
Whether those peales of praise be his or no.
As doubtfull whether what I see be true,
Vntill confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you.
Por.
You see my 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 twenty times my selfe,
A thousand times more faire, ten thousand times
More rich, that onely to stand high in your account,
I might in vertues, beauties, liuings, friends,
Exceed account: but the full summe of me
Is sum of nothing: which to terme in grosse,
Is an vnlessoned girle, vnschool'd, vnpractiz'd,
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, master of my seruants,
Queene ore my selfe: and euen now, but now,
This house, these seruants, and this same my selfe
Are yours, my Lord, 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.
Bass.
Maddam, you haue bereft me of all words,
Onely my bloud 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 something being blent together,
Turnes to a wilde 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.
Ner.
My Lord and Lady, it is now our time
That haue stood by and seene our wishes prosper,
To cry good ioy, good ioy my Lord and Lady.
Gra.
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 faith: I doe beseech you
Euen at that time I may be married too.
Bass.
With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.
Gra.
I thanke your Lordship, you gaue got me one.
My eyes my Lord can looke as swift as yours:
You saw the mistres, I beheld the maid:
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 too, 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
Atchieu'd her mistresse.
Por.
Is this true Nerrissa?
Ner.
Madam it is so, so you stand pleas'd withall.
Bass.
And doe you Gratiano meane good faith?
Gra.
Yes faith my Lord.
Bass.
Our feast shall be much honored in your marriage.
Gra.
Weele play with them the first boy for a thousand
ducats.
Ner.
What and stake downe?
Gra.
No, we shal nere win at that sport, and stake
downe.
What and my old Venetian friend Salerio?
Enter Lorenzo, Iessica, and Salerio.
Bas.
Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hether,
If that the youth of my new interest heere
Haue power to bid you welcome: by your leaue
I bid my verie friends and Countrimen
Sweet Portia welcome.
Por.
So do I my Lord, they are intirely welcome.
Lor.
I thanke your honor; for my part my Lord,
My purpose was not to haue seene you heere,
But meeting with Salerio by the way,
He did intreate mee past all saying nay
To come with him along.
Sal.
I did my Lord,
And I haue reason for it, Signior Anthonio
Commends him to you.
Bass.
Ere I ope his Letter
I pray you tell me how my good friend doth.
Sal.
Not sicke my Lord, vnlesse it be in minde,
Nor wel, vnlesse in minde: his Letter there
Wil shew you his estate.
Opens the Letter.
Gra.
Nerrissa, cheere yond stranger, bid her welcom,
Your hand Salerio, what's the newes from Venice?
How doth that royal Merchant good Anthonio;
I know he vvil be glad of our successe,
We are the Iasons, we haue won the fleece.
Sal.
I would you had vvon the fleece that hee hath
lost.
Por.
There are some shrewd contents in yond same
Paper,
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.
Bass.
O sweet Portia,
Heere are a few of the vnpleasant'st words
That euer blotted paper. Gentle Ladie
When I did first impart my loue to you,
I freely told you all the wealth I had
Ran in my vaines: I was a Gentleman,
And then I told you true: and yet deere Ladie,
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 vvas 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 Ladie,
The paper as the bodie of my friend,
And euerie word in it a gaping wound
Issuing life blood. But is it true Salerio,
From Tripolis, from Mexico and England,
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India,
And not one vessell scape the dreadfull touch
Of Merchant-marring rocks?
Sal.
Not one my Lord.
Besides, it should appeare, that if he had
The present money to discharge the Iew,
He would not take it: neuer did I know
A creature that did beare the shape of man
So keene and greedy 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. Twenty 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 forfeiture, of iustice, and his bond.
Iessi.
When I was with him, I haue heard him sweare
To Tuball and to Chus, his Countri-men,
That he would rather haue Anthonio's flesh,
Then twenty 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.
Por.
Is it your deere friend that is thus in trouble?
Bass.
The deerest friend to me, the kindest man,
The best condition'd, and vnwearied spirit
In doing curtesies: and one in whom
The ancient Romane honour more appeares
Then any that drawes breath in Italie.
Por.
What summe owes he the Iew?
Bass.
For me three thousand ducats.
Por.
What, no more?
Pay him sixe thousand, and deface the bond:
Double sixe thousand, and then treble that,
Before a friend of this description
Shall lose a haire through Bassano's 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 maid Nerrissa, and my selfe meane time
Will liue as maids and widdowes; come away,
For you shall hence vpon your wedding day:
Bid your friends 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 miscarried, my Creditors
grow cruell, my estate is very low, my bond to the Iew is
forfeit, and since in paying it, it is impossible I should liue, all
debts are cleerd betweene you and I, if I might see you at my
death: notwithstanding, vse your pleasure, if your loue doe not
perswade you to come, let not my letter.
Por.
O loue! dispach all busines and be gone.
Bass.
Since I haue your good leaue to goe away,
I will make hast; but till I come againe,
No bed shall ere be guilty of my stay,
Nor rest be interposer twixt vs twaine.
Exeunt.
Enter the Iew, and Solanio, and Anthonio, and the Iaylor.
Iew.
Iaylor, looke to him, tell not me of mercy,
This is the foole that lends out money gratis.
Iaylor, looke to him.
Ant.
Heare me yet good Shylok.
Iew.
Ile haue my bond, speak not against my bond,
I haue sworne an oath that I will haue my bond:
Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause,
But since I am a dog, beware my phangs,
The Duke shall grant me iustice, I do wonder
Thou naughty Iaylor, that thou art so fond
To come abroad with him at his request.
Ant.
I pray thee heare me speake.
Iew.
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 ey'd foole,
To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yeeld
To Christian intercessors: follow not,
Ile haue no speaking, I will haue my bond.
Exit Iew.
Sol.
It is the most impenetrable curre
That euer kept with men.
Ant.
Let him alone,
Ile follow him no more with bootlesse prayers:
He seekes my life, his reason well I know;
I oft deliuer'd from his forfeitures
Many that haue at times made mone to me,
Therefore he hates me.
Sol.
I am sure the Duke will neuer grant this forfeiture to hold.
An.
The Duke cannot deny the course of law:
For the commoditie that strangers haue
With vs in Venice, if it be denied,
Will much impeach the iustice of the State,
Since that the trade and profit of the citty
Consisteth of all Nations. Therefore goe,
These greefes and losses haue so bated mee,
That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh
To morrow, to my bloudy Creditor.
Well Iaylor, on, pray God Bassanio come
To see me pay his debt, and then I care not.
Exeunt.
Enter Portia, Nerrissa, Lorenzo, Iessica, and a man of Portias.
Lor.
Madam, although I speake it in your presence,
You haue a noble and a true conceit
Of god-like amity, which appeares most strongly
In bearing thus the absence of your Lord.
But if you knew to whom you shew 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 customary bounty can enforce you.
Por.
I neuer did repent for doing good,
Nor shall not now: for in companions
That do conuerse and waste the time together,
Whose soules doe beare an egal yoke of loue,
There must be needs a like proportion
Of lyniaments, of manners, and of spirit;
Which makes me thinke that this Anthonio
Being the bosome louer of my Lord,
Must needs 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.
Vntill my Lords returne; for mine owne part
I haue toward heauen breath'd a secret vow,
To liue in prayer and contemplation,
Onely attended by Nerrissa heere,
Vntill her husband and my Lords returne:
There is a monastery too 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.
Lorens.
Madame, with all my heart,
I shall obey you in all faire commands.
Por.
My people doe already know my minde,
And will acknowledge you and Iessica
In place of Lord Bassanio and my selfe.
So far you well till we shall meete againe.
Lor.
Faire thoughts & happy houres attend on you.
Iessi.
I wish your Ladiship all hearts content.
Por.
I thanke you for your wish, and am well pleas'd
To wish it backe on you: faryouwell Iessica.
Exeunt.
Now Balthaser, as I haue euer found thee honest true,
So let me finde thee still: take this same letter,
And vse thou all the indeauor of a man,
In speed to Mantua, see thou render this
Into my cosins hand, Doctor Belario,
And looke what notes and garments he doth giue thee,
Bring them I pray thee with imagin'd speed
Vnto the Tranect, to the common Ferrie
Which trades to Venice; waste no time in words,
But get thee gone, I shall be there before thee.
Balth.
Madam, I goe with all conuenient speed.
Por.
Come on Nerissa, I haue worke in hand
That you yet know not of; wee'll see our husbands
Before they thinke of vs?
Nerrissa.
Shall they see vs?
Portia.
They shall Nerrissa: but in such a habit,
That they shall thinke we are accomplished
With that we lacke; Ile hold thee any wager
When we are both accoutered like yong 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 honourable Ladies sought my loue,
Which I denying, they fell sicke and died.
I could not doe withall: then Ile repent,
And wish for all that, that I had not kil'd them;
And twentie 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.
Nerris.
Why, shall wee turne to men?
Portia.
Fie, what a questions 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 haste away,
For we must measure twentie miles to day.
Exeunt.
Enter Clowne and Iessica.
Clown.
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: therfore be of
good cheere, for truly I thinke you are damn'd, there is
but one hope in it that can doe you anie good, and that is
but a kinde of bastard hope neither.
Iessica.
And what hope is that I pray thee?
Clow.
Marrie you may partlie hope that your father
got you not, that you are not the Iewes daughter.
Ies.
That were a kinde of bastard hope indeed, so the
sins of my mother should be visited vpon me.
Clow.
Truly then I feare you are damned both by father
and mother: thus when I shun Scilla your father, I
fall into Charibdis your mother; well, you are gone both
waies.
Ies.
I shall be sau'd by my husband, he hath made me
a Christian.
Clow.
Truly the more to blame he, we were Christians
enow before, e'ne as many as could wel liue one by another:
this making of Christians will raise the price of
Hogs, if wee grow all to be porke-eaters, wee shall not
shortlie haue a rasher on the coales for money.
Enter Lorenzo.
Ies.
Ile tell my husband Lancelet what you say, heere
he comes.
Loren.
I shall grow iealous of you shortly Lancelet,
if you thus get my wife into corners?
Ies.
Nay, you need not feare vs Lorenzo, Launcelet
and I are out, he tells me flatly there is no mercy for mee
in heauen, because I am a Iewes daughter: and hee saies
you are no good member of the common wealth, for
in conuerting Iewes to Christians, you raise the price
of Porke.
Loren.
I shall answere that better to the Commonwealth,
than you can the getting vp of the Negroes bellie:
the Moore is with childe by you Launcelet?
Clow.
It is much that the Moore should be more then
reason: but if she be lesse then an honest woman, shee is
indeed more then I tooke her for.
Loren.
How euerie foole can play vpon the word, I
thinke the best grace of witte will shortly turne into silence,
and discourse grow commendable in none onely
but Parrats: goe in sirra, bid them prepare for dinner?
Clow.
That is done sir, they haue all stomacks?
Loren.
Goodly Lord, what a witte-snapper are you,
then bid them prepare dinner.
Clow.
That is done to sir, onely couer is the word.
Loren.
Will you couer than sir?
Clow.
Not so sir neither, I know my dutie.
Loren.
Yet more quarrellng with occasion, wilt thou
shew 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
meat, and we will come in to dinner.
Clow.
For the table sir, it shall be seru'd in, for the
meat sir, it shall bee couered, for your comming in to
dinner sir, why let it be as humors and conceits shall gouerne.
Lor.
O deare discretion, how his words are suted,
The foole hath planted in his memory
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 cheer'st thou Iessica,
And now good sweet say thy opinion,
Iessi.
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
Is 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 something else
Paund with the other, for the poore rude world
Hath not her fellow.
Loren.
Euen such a husband
Hast thou of me, as she is for a wife.
Ies.
Nay, but aske my opinion to of that?
Lor.
I will anone, first let vs goe to dinner?
Ies.
Nay, let me praise you while I haue a stomacke?
Lor.
No pray thee, let it serue for table talke,
Then how som ere thou speakst 'mong other things,
I shall digest it?
Iessi.
Well, Ile set you forth.
Exeunt.
| The Merchant of Venice | |