The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 346

LORENZO. Madam, although I speak it in your presence, You have a n.o.ble and a true conceit Of G.o.dlike amity, which appears most strongly In bearing thus the absence of your lord.

But if you knew to whom you show this honour, How true a gentleman you send relief, How dear a lover of my lord your husband, I know you would be prouder of the work Than customary bounty can enforce you.

PORTIA. I never did repent for doing good, Nor shall not now; for in companions That do converse and waste the time together, Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love, There must be needs a like proportion Of lineaments, of manners, and of spirit, Which makes me think that this Antonio, Being the bosom lover of my lord, Must needs be like my lord. If it be so, How little is the cost I have bestowed In purchasing the semblance of my soul From out the state of h.e.l.lish cruelty!

This comes too near the praising of myself; Therefore, no more of it; hear other things.

Lorenzo, I commit into your hands The husbandry and manage of my house Until my lord's return; for mine own part, I have toward heaven breath'd a secret vow To live in prayer and contemplation, Only attended by Nerissa here, Until her husband and my lord's return.

There is a monastery two miles off, And there we will abide. I do desire you Not to deny this imposition, The which my love and some necessity Now lays upon you.

LORENZO. Madam, with all my heart I shall obey you in an fair commands.

PORTIA. My people do already know my mind, And will acknowledge you and Jessica In place of Lord Ba.s.sanio and myself.

So fare you well till we shall meet again.

LORENZO. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you!

JESSICA. I wish your ladys.h.i.+p all heart's content.

PORTIA. I thank you for your wish, and am well pleas'd To wish it back on you. Fare you well, Jessica.

Exeunt JESSICA and LORENZO Now, Balthasar, As I have ever found thee honest-true, So let me find thee still. Take this same letter, And use thou all th' endeavour of a man In speed to Padua; see thou render this Into my cousin's hands, Doctor Bellario; And look what notes and garments he doth give thee, Bring them, I pray thee, with imagin'd speed Unto the traject, to the common ferry Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words, But get thee gone; I shall be there before thee.

BALTHASAR. Madam, I go with all convenient speed. Exit PORTIA. Come on, Nerissa, I have work in hand That you yet know not of; we'll see our husbands Before they think of us.

NERISSA. Shall they see us?

PORTIA. They shall, Nerissa; but in such a habit That they shall think we are accomplished With that we lack. I'll hold thee any wager, When we are both accoutred like young men, I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two, And wear my dagger with the braver grace, And speak between the change of man and boy With a reed voice; and turn two mincing steps Into a manly stride; and speak of frays Like a fine bragging youth; and tell quaint lies, How honourable ladies sought my love, Which I denying, they fell sick and died- I could not do withal. Then I'll repent, And wish for all that, that I had not kill'd them.

And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell, That men shall swear I have discontinued school About a twelvemonth. I have within my mind A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, Which I will practise.

NERISSA. Why, shall we turn to men?

PORTIA. Fie, what a question's that, If thou wert near a lewd interpreter!

But come, I'll tell thee all my whole device When I am in my coach, which stays for us At the park gate; and therefore haste away, For we must measure twenty miles to-day. Exeunt

SCENE V.

Belmont. The garden

Enter LAUNCELOT and JESSICA

LAUNCELOT. Yes, truly; for, look you, the sins of the father are to be laid upon the children; therefore, I promise you, I fear you.

I was always plain with you, and so now I speak my agitation of the matter; therefore be o' good cheer, for truly I think you are d.a.m.n'd. There is but one hope in it that can do you any good, and that is but a kind of b.a.s.t.a.r.d hope, neither.

JESSICA. And what hope is that, I pray thee?

LAUNCELOT. Marry, you may partly hope that your father got you not- that you are not the Jew's daughter.

JESSICA. That were a kind of b.a.s.t.a.r.d hope indeed; so the sins of my mother should be visited upon me.

LAUNCELOT. Truly then I fear you are d.a.m.n'd both by father and mother; thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I fall into Charybdis, your mother; well, you are gone both ways.

JESSICA. I shall be sav'd by my husband; he hath made me a Christian.

LAUNCELOT. Truly, the more to blame he; we were Christians enow before, e'en as many as could well live one by another. This making of Christians will raise the price of hogs; if we grow all to be pork-eaters, we shall not shortly have a rasher on the coals for money.

Enter LORENZO

JESSICA. I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say; here he comes.

LORENZO. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot, if you thus get my wife into corners.

JESSICA. Nay, you need nor fear us, Lorenzo; Launcelot and I are out; he tells me flatly there's no mercy for me in heaven, because I am a Jew's daughter; and he says you are no good member of the commonwealth, for in converting Jews to Christians you raise the price of pork.

LORENZO. I shall answer that better to the commonwealth than you can the getting up of the negro's belly; the Moor is with child by you, Launcelot.

LAUNCELOT. It is much that the Moor should be more than reason; but if she be less than an honest woman, she is indeed more than I took her for.

LORENZO. How every fool can play upon the word! I think the best grace of wit will shortly turn into silence, and discourse grow commendable in none only but parrots. Go in, sirrah; bid them prepare for dinner.

LAUNCELOT. That is done, sir; they have all stomachs.

LORENZO. Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you! Then bid them prepare dinner.

LAUNCELOT. That is done too, sir, only 'cover' is the word.

LORENZO. Will you cover, then, sir?

LAUNCELOT. Not so, sir, neither; I know my duty.

LORENZO. Yet more quarrelling with occasion! Wilt thou show the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant? I pray thee understand a plain man in his plain meaning: go to thy fellows, bid them cover the table, serve in the meat, and we will come in to dinner.

LAUNCELOT. For the table, sir, it shall be serv'd in; for the meat, sir, it shall be cover'd; for your coming in to dinner, sir, why, let it be as humours and conceits shall govern.

Exit LORENZO. O dear discretion, how his words are suited!

The fool hath planted in his memory An army of good words; and I do know A many fools that stand in better place, Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word Defy the matter. How cheer'st thou, Jessica?

And now, good sweet, say thy opinion, How dost thou like the Lord Ba.s.sanio's wife?

JESSICA. Past all expressing. It is very meet The Lord Ba.s.sanio live an upright life, For, having such a blessing in his lady, He finds the joys of heaven here on earth; And if on earth he do not merit it, In reason he should never come to heaven.

Why, if two G.o.ds should play some heavenly match, And on the wager lay two earthly women, And Portia one, there must be something else p.a.w.n'd with the other; for the poor rude world Hath not her fellow.

LORENZO. Even such a husband Hast thou of me as she is for a wife.

JESSICA. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that.

LORENZO. I will anon; first let us go to dinner.

JESSICA. Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach.

LORENZO. No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk; Then howsome'er thou speak'st, 'mong other things I shall digest it.

JESSICA. Well, I'll set you forth. Exeunt

ACT IV. SCENE I.

Venice. The court of justice

Enter the DUKE, the MAGNIFICOES, ANTONIO, Ba.s.sANIO, GRATIANO, SALERIO, and OTHERS

DUKE OF VENICE. What, is Antonio here?

ANTONIO. Ready, so please your Grace.

DUKE OF VENICE. I am sorry for thee; thou art come to answer A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch, Uncapable of pity, void and empty From any dram of mercy.

ANTONIO. I have heard Your Grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate, And that no lawful means can carry me Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose My patience to his fury, and am arm'd To suffer with a quietness of spirit The very tyranny and rage of his.

DUKE OF VENICE. Go one, and call the Jew into the court.

SALERIO. He is ready at the door; he comes, my lord.

Enter SHYLOCK

DUKE OF VENICE. Make room, and let him stand before our face.

Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, That thou but leadest this fas.h.i.+on of thy malice To the last hour of act; and then, 'tis thought, Thou'lt show thy mercy and remorse, more strange Than is thy strange apparent cruelty; And where thou now exacts the penalty, Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh, Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture, But, touch'd with human gentleness and love, Forgive a moiety of the princ.i.p.al, Glancing an eye of pity on his losses, That have of late so huddled on his back- Enow to press a royal merchant down, And pluck commiseration of his state From bra.s.sy bosoms and rough hearts of flint, From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train'd To offices of tender courtesy.

We all expect a gentle answer, Jew.

SHYLOCK. I have possess'd your Grace of what I purpose, And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn To have the due and forfeit of my bond.

If you deny it, let the danger light Upon your charter and your city's freedom.

You'll ask me why I rather choose to have A weight of carrion flesh than to receive Three thousand ducats. I'll not answer that, But say it is my humour- is it answer'd?

What if my house be troubled with a rat, And I be pleas'd to give ten thousand ducats To have it ban'd? What, are you answer'd yet?

Some men there are love not a gaping pig; Some that are mad if they behold a cat; And others, when the bagpipe sings i' th' nose, Cannot contain their urine; for affection, Mistress of pa.s.sion, sways it to the mood Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer: As there is no firm reason to be rend'red Why he cannot abide a gaping pig; Why he, a harmless necessary cat; Why he, a woollen bagpipe, but of force Must yield to such inevitable shame As to offend, himself being offended; So can I give no reason, nor I will not, More than a lodg'd hate and a certain loathing I bear Antonio, that I follow thus A losing suit against him. Are you answered?

Ba.s.sANIO. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man, To excuse the current of thy cruelty.

SHYLOCK. I am not bound to please thee with my answers.

Ba.s.sANIO. Do all men kill the things they do not love?

SHYLOCK. Hates any man the thing he would not kill?

Ba.s.sANIO. Every offence is not a hate at first.

SHYLOCK. What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice?

ANTONIO. I pray you, think you question with the Jew.

You may as well go stand upon the beach And bid the main flood bate his usual height; You may as well use question with the wolf, Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb; You may as well forbid the mountain pines To wag their high tops and to make no noise When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven; You may as well do anything most hard As seek to soften that- than which what's harder?- His jewish heart. Therefore, I do beseech you, Make no moe offers, use no farther means, But with all brief and plain conveniency Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will.

Ba.s.sANIO. For thy three thousand ducats here is six.