 | The Jew of Venice |  |
21
ACT III.
Scene I.
Enter Portia, Bassanio, Nerissa, Gratiano, and their Train. Nerissa, Gratiano discourse apart.Bass.
Why if two Gods should play some Heav'nly match,
And on the Wager lay two earthly Beauties,
And Portia, one there must be something more
Pawn'd with the other; for the poor rude World
Has not her Equal: But alas, the while
Should Hercules and Lychas play at Dice,
Who were the better Man? The greater throw
Might turn by Fortune from the weaker Hand:
So were a Gyant worsted by a Dwarf;
And so may I, having no Guide but Chance,
Miss that, which one unworthier may obtain,
And dye with the Despair.
Port.
Therefore forbear to chuse, pause for a while,
Before you hazard; for in chusing wrong
You lose for ever: Therefore, I pray forbear;
For somthing tells me, but it is not Love,
I would not lose you: I could teach you
How to chuse right: But then I am forsworn,
So will I never be
‘Yet should you miss me,
‘I should repent that I was not forsworn;
‘For oh, what heavier Curse for perjury
‘Could Heav'n provide, than losing all my Hope?
I speak too much; tho' Thought will have no bound,
A Virgin's Tongue should shame to hint a Thought,
At which a Virgin's Cheek should blush.
Think it not Love, yet think it what you please,
So you defer a Month or Two,
‘For fain I would detain you as a Friend,
‘Whom as a Lover I might lose,
‘Should you persist to venture the rash throw.
‘'Tis better still to doubt, and still to hope,
‘Than knowing of our Fates, to know
‘That we have lost for ever.
Bassa.
‘Doubt is the worst State: 'Tis better once
‘To die, than still to live in Pain.
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‘Fortune and Love befriend me: I'm resolv'd;
My Life, and all my earthly Happiness
Sits on the chance: Where may I find the Casket!
Port.
‘Yet, let me perswade you: If for your self
‘You cannot fear, tremble for her—
‘For her, to whom you have so often sworn,
‘More than your self, you love her: Think! oh Think!
‘On Portia's Fate: Who may not only lose
‘The Man, by whom she wishes to be won,
‘But being lost to him, remain expos'd
‘To some new Choice, another must possess
‘What Chance denies to you. O fatal Law!
‘Lost to each other were a cruel Doom,
‘But 'tis our least Misfortune; I may live
‘To be enjoy'd by one I hate. And you
‘May live to see it.
Bass.
‘To love, and to be lov'd, yet not possess,
‘No greater Curse could be, but what thou fear'st,
‘Yet I will on: With double Flames I burn,
‘Knowing that Portia loves me; all my fear
‘Was for her Love: Secure of that I go
‘Secure of the Reward: Lead me to the Caskets.
Port.
Away then, and find out where Portia's lockt:
‘Thy Courage is an Omen of Success,
‘If Love be just, he'll teach thee where to chuse.
Nerissa, show him, since he is resolv'd,
The rest stand all aloft, whilst Musick Plays
That if he lose, like Swans we may expire
In softest Harmony: but if he win
Ah what is Musick then? Then Musick is
Even as the flourish, when true Subjects bow
To a new crown'd Monarch: Such it is,
As are those Dulcet Sounds at break of Day
That steal into the dreaming Bridegrooms Ear
And summon him to joy: See where he goes
With no less Presence, but with much more Love
Than young Alcides, when he did redeem
The virgin Tribute paid by weeping Troy,
To the Sea Monster! I like the Victim stand,
The rest aloof, like the Dardanian Wives,
With blotted Visages come forth to view
The Issue of the Exploit. Go Hercules
‘Love that inflames thy Heart inspire thy Eyes,
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Portia and the rest stand at a Distance observing soft Musick. Till re-enter Bassanio in each Hand a Casket.
Bass.
Who chuses me, shall get what he deserves,
The like inscription bears this Silver Casket.
Shall get what he deserves; who chuse by outward show,
Entic'd by guilded Baits and flattering Forms,
Who look not to th'interiour: But like the Martlet,
Build in the Weather on the outward Wall,
Even in the force and Road of Casualty,
What may their Merit be? agen let me consider.
[Walks about thinking.
Grat.
Take the Gold Man, or the Silver: plague on't,
Would I were to chuse for him.
Bass.
Shall get what he deserves: Let none presume
Without the Stamp of Merit to obtain.
Oh that Estates, Degrees and Offices,
Were not deriv'd Corruptly; and that clear Honour
Were purchas'd by the Merit of the Wearer,
How many then would cover who stand bare!
How many be commanded, who command!
How much low Peasantry would then be glean'd
From the true Seed of Honour! And how much Honour
Pickt from the Chaff and ruine of the Times,
To be new varnisht: Let me not be rash,
There yet remains a Third: well will I weigh
E'er I resolve.
[Exit.
Gra.
‘Take the Gold, I say; pox on Lead; what is it good.
‘For, but to make Bullets, 'tis the Image of
‘Death and Destruction.
Re-enter Bassanio with a Casket of Lead.
Bass.
The World is still deceiv'd with Ornament:
In Law, what Plea so tainted or corrupt,
But being season'd with a gracious Voice,
And cover'd with fair specious Subtleties
Obscures the show of Reason. ‘In Religion
What damn'd Error, but some sober brow
Will bless it, and approve it with a Text.
There is no Vice so artless, but assumes
Some Mark of Vertue on its outward Parts,
Hiding the Grossness with fair Ornament.
How many Cowards with Livers white as Milk,
Have Backs of Brawn, and wear upon their Chins
The Beards of Hercules and frowning Mars,
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That make such wanton Gambols with the Wind?
What, but the Dowry of a second Head:
The Skull that bred 'em in the Sepulcher.
‘Thus Ornament is as a beauteous Scarf
‘Veiling Deformity. Therefore thou gawdy Gold,
Hard Food for Midas, I will have none of thee;
Nor, none of thee, Silver, thou common Drudge;
'Twixt Man and Man. But thou, thou Meager Lead,
‘Which rather threaten'st, than do'st promise ought,
‘Thy sullenness moves more than Eloquence,
And here I fix: Joy be the Consequence.
Grat.
‘Undone, undone: I'll not stand to't, Nerissa. I'll
‘Chuse for my self;
Port.
aside.]
How all the other Passions fleet to Air,
As doubtful Thoughts, and rash, embrac'd Despair,
Tormenting fears, and Green ey'd Jealousey.
O! Love! be moderate; allay this Extacy.
In measure pour thy Joy, stint this excess;
I feel too much thy Blessing, make it less,
For fear I surfeit.
Bass.
What find I here?
[Opening the Casket.
The Portraiture of Portia.
What Demi-God has come so near Creation, move these Eyes!
Or whether riding on the Balls of mine,
Seem they in Motion? Here are sever'd Lips,
Parted with sweetest Breath: ‘The very odour
‘Seems there express'd, and thus invites the Taste!
[Kissing the Picture.
And here agen, here in her lovely Hair,
The Painter plays the Spider, and has woven
A Golden Snare, to catch the Hearts of Men:
‘But then her Eyes.
‘How could he gaze undazled upon them,
‘And see to imitate: Let me peruse the Motto.
Reads.]
‘Who chuses me; let him whose Fate it is,
‘Turn to the Fair, and claim her with a Kiss.
A gentle Schrole: fair Lady, by your leave,
I come by note, to give and to receive,
Like one of two contending for a Prize,
Who thinks he has done well, looks round to mark
(Hearing Applause, and universal Shout)
Whether those Peals of Praise are meant to him;
So stands Bassanio, full of Hopes and Fears,
‘Still anxious what to trust, and what believe,
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Port.
“Had Choice decided, and not only Chance,
‘As Fortune has dispos'd me, so had I.
My self, and what is mine, to you and yours
Is now converted. But now I was the Lady
Of this fair Mansion, Mistress of these Servants,
Queen o'er my self, even now, and in a Moment
This House, these Servants, and my self their Queen;
Are yours, my Lord. I plight 'em with this Ring,
Which when you part 'em, lose or give away,
Let it presage the Ruin of your Love,
‘And stand, as a Record, that you were false,
‘A follower of my Fortunes not of me,
‘And never meant me fair.
Bass.
‘Dye first, Bassanio, my Mistress, and my Queen
‘As absolute as ever shall you reign,
‘Not as the Lord, but Vassal of your Charms,
‘Not as a Conqueror, but Acquisition.
‘Not one to lessen, but enlarge your Power.
‘No more but this, the Creature of your Pleasure,
‘As such receive the passionate Bassanio.
Oh there is that Confusion in my Powers,
As Words cannot express: But when the Ring
Parts from this Finger, then part Life from thence;
Then say, and be assur'd, Bassanio's dead.
Gratiano and Nerissa seem in earnest dispute.
Grat.
‘I say, a Bargains a Bargain, and I will have Justice.
Neriss.
‘I say, we drew Stakes.
Grat.
‘That was only in Case I had lost, Child.
Port.
A Dispute between our Freinds! what's the matter, Cozen?
Grat.
I'll tell you, Madam, the matter in short, and you shall be Judge;
‘I happen'd to say to this Lady, that it was her Destiny to
‘Have me; she consented to put it to Tryal, and agreed
‘To be determin'd by the Choice, my Friend should make
‘If he had you—I should have her; and here
‘Stand I to claim her Promise.
Port.
Is this true, Nerissa?
Neriss.
‘Ay! but he recanted, and said afterwards, he
‘Would chuse for himself.
Grat.
‘Why sure so I can, now I know the right Casket.
‘What sort of a Tramontane, do you take me to
‘Be? you are gone that way too, as I take it.
Neriss.
‘Then Madam, all my Hope is, than you won't let
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Grat.
‘'Tis false, to my certain Knowledge she hopes
Otherwise—Nerissa! we'll play with 'em the first
Boy for 1000 Duccats.
Neriss.
‘Methinks, this looks like the last Act of a Play.
‘All Parties are agreed; there remains nothing but
‘To draw the Curtain, and put out the Lights.
Grat.
‘A good hint, my Love: Let you and I make our Exit
‘About that same last Act, as you call it.
Bass.
‘I rejoice, Gratiano, that my good Fortune
‘Thus included yours.
‘Oh that Antonio knew of our Success,
‘It would ore-joy him. Prithee Gratiano,
‘Send a special Messenger to Venice,
‘To inform him of our Fortunes—
‘Shylock shall now be paid, my Friend is safe,
‘And Happiness, on every side surrounds us.
[Gratiano going out, meets Lorenzo, Jessica, and a Servant from Antonio entring.
Grat.
Lorenzo, and his pretty Infidel,
Salerio too, Antonio's Servant: If I mistake him not,
‘Look here, Bassanio; here is News from Venice.
Bass.
Lorenzo, Welcome! Salerio too! what News
‘From my Antonio? Oh, 'tis the best of Freinds!
Y'are welcome hither. By your Leave, my Love,
Tho' my Interest here be yet but young, I
Take upon me to bid my Friends most welcome.
Port.
So do I my Lord, they are entirely welcome.
Loren.
We thank you, Madam: for my part, my Lord,
My purpose was not to have seen you here,
But meeting with Salerio by the way,
He needs would have me come.
Saler.
I did my Lord desire it, and had a reason for it:
Seignior Antonio commends him to you.
Bass.
‘How does my Friend?
Saler.
‘This Letter will inform you.
[Bass. reads to himself and seems concern'd.
Grat.
Nerissa, bid this pretty Stranger welcome;
Your Hand, Lorenzo; and yours, Salerio.
What the News from Venice? We are the Jasons
Who have won the Fleece: Antonio will rejoice
At our Success.
Sal.
Would you had won the Fleece which he had lost.
Port.
There are some shrewd Contents in that same Paper,
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‘Some great Misfortune sure: No common Cause
‘Could thus disturb him at this time. Still worse and worse.
With leave, Bassanio, I am half your self,
And freely must have half of any thing
That this same Letter brings you.
Bass.
O my Portia! here are a few of the most fatal words
That ever blotted Paper—
When I did first impart my Love, I told you
That all the Wealth I had ran in my Veins.
When I said Nothing, I should then have said
That I was worse than nothing: For indeed
I have engag'd my self to my best Friend;
Engag'd my Friend to his worst Enemy,
To feed my Fortunes. But is it true, Salerio?
Have all his Ventures fail'd? What! not one hit!
From Tripoli, from Mexico, from England,
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India,
And not one Vessel scape!
Sal.
Not one, my Lord.
Port.
Is it your Friend who is thus troubled?
Bass.
The dearest Friend to me! the kindest Man!
The best condition'd, most unwearied Spirit
In doing Good; and one in whom
The ancient Roman Honour more appears
‘For liberal Love and bounteous Courtesie,
‘Than any that has breath'd in Italy
‘Since Antony and Brutus.
Port.
What is the Sum?
Bass.
For me 3000 Duccats,
‘Rais'd to transport me hither.
Port.
What! no more!
‘And rais'd on my Account. 'Tis then my Debt;
Pay him 6000. double 6000.
And then treble that, before a Friend should suffer,
Or lose a Hair thro' my Bassanio's Fault:
You shall away to Venice to your Friend;
For never shall you lie by Portia's side
With an unquiet Soul. You shall have Gold
To pay the petty Debt 20 times over.
Nerissa and my self mean while will live
As Maids and Widows. Let none reply,
‘For I will have it thus.
Bass.
‘O Love! O Friendship!
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Grat.
‘What, not one quarter of an hour to pack up
‘My Baggage?
Ner.
‘Whereabouts is the last Act now Gratiano?
Grat.
‘Faith, Child, I have the part ready,
‘If I might have leave to play it.
Port.
‘Away ye Triflers.
‘Nay then Bassanio I must thrust you from me:
‘'Tis hard for both to be divided thus
‘Upon our Wedding-Day. But Honour calls,
‘And Love must wait. Honour, that still delights
‘To tyrannize or'e Love. Farewell, my Lord,
‘Be chearful in this Trial: as you prove,
‘Your Faith in Friendship, I shall trust your Love.
[She conducts him to the Door. Exit Bas. Grat.
Loren.
Madam, if you knew to whom you show this Honor,
How true a Lover of your Lord!
Port.
I never did repent of doing good;
Nor shall I now: But we have much to do
In other things: Therefore to you, Lorenzo,
And to this Lady, whose Pardon I should crave,
For having stood so much unnoted by me,
I will commit, as to my Lords best Friends,
The Husbandry and Conduct of my House
Until my Lord's Return: For my own part
I have to Heav'n breath'd a secret Vow,
To live in Prayer and Contemplation,
Only attended by Nerissa here,
Until her Husband and my Lord come back.
There is a Monastery two Miles off,
And there we will abide. I do desire you
Not to deny this Imposition, which
My Love and some Necessity
Now lays upon you.
Loren.
Madam, with all our Hearts;
We will observe your Pleasure.
Port.
Come on, Nerissa; I have Work in hand
That thou yet knowest not of.Balthazar,
Thou art honest; so let me find thee still.
Follow me in: I have some short Directions
For you all.
[Exeunt.
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Enter Shylock and Jailer with Antonio in Shackles.
Shyl.
Jailor, look to him. Tell not me of Mercy;
This is the Fool, who lent out Money gratis:
Jailor, I say, look to him.
Anto.
Hear me yet, good Shylock.
Shyl.
I'll have my Bond: I have sworn an Oath, that
I will have my Bond: Thou call'st me Dog,
Before thou hadst a Cause: but since I am a
Dog, beware my Phangs.
Anto.
I prithee hear me speak.
Shyl.
I'll have my Bond. I will not hear thee speak:
I'll not be made a soft relenting Fool,
To shake the Head, and sigh, and yield, and melt
To Christian Intercessors: I'll have no speaking,
I will have my Bond.
Anto.
Thou wilt not take my Flesh; what's that good for?
Shyl.
To bait Fish withal; if it will feed nothing else, it
Will feed my Revenge: Thou hast disgrac'd me,
Hindered me half a Million; laught at my Losses;
Repin'd at my Gains, scorn'd my Nation;
Thwarted my Bargains; cool'd my Friends;
Enflam'd my Enemies; and what's the Reason?
I am a Jew—Has not a Jew Eyes? Has not
A Jew Hands? Organs, Dimensions, Senses, Affections;
Passions? Fed with the same Food, hurt with
The same Weapons, subject to the same Diseases,
Heal'd by the same Means, warm'd and cool'd,
By the same Winter and Summer as a Christian?
If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you
Tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us,
Do we not dye? And if you wrong us, shall
We not Revenge? If we are like you in the rest,
We will resemble you in that: For if a Jew
Wrong a Christian, what is his Humility,
Revenge? If a Christian wrong a Jew, what
Should his sufferance be by a Christian Example?
Why, Revenge. The Charity you prctise, I will
Imitate: And it shall go hard, but I will improve
By the Instruction.
Anto.
Thou art the most impenetrable Curr
30
Shyl.
My Daughter too! None knew so well as you of my
Daughter's Flight. Why there, there, there is a
Diamond gone, cost me 2000 Ducats in Frankfort.
A Ring too, it was my Turkis; I had it of Leah,
When I was a Batchelour; besides Gold, and many other
Precious Jewels. Would my Daughter were dead
At my Foot, so the Jewels were in her Ears
Would she were Hears'd, so the Ducats were in the
Coffin. No News, and I know not how much
Spent in the Search: Loss upon Loss. The Theif gone
With so much, and so much to find the Theif;
And no Satisfaction, no Revenge: But thou art
Caught, and thou shalt pay the whole Theifs Bill.
Thou who wast wont to lend out Money for a Christian
Curtesy: Thou Christian Fool, pay thy Debts:
Jaylor, I say, look to him.
[Thrusts him after the Jaylor and Exeunt.
| The Jew of Venice | |