The Merchant of Venice
you shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in your affection
towards any of these princely suitors that are already come?
PORTIA.
I pray thee over-name them, and as thou namest them, I will describe
them, and according to my description level at my affection.
NERISSA.
First, there is the Neapolitan prince.
PORTIA.
Ay, that’s a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse,
and he makes it a great appropriation to his own good parts that he can
shoe him himself. I am much afeard my lady his mother play’d false with
a smith.
NERISSA.
Then is there the County Palatine.
PORTIA.
He doth nothing but frown, as who should say “And you will not have me,
choose.” He hears merry tales and smiles not. I fear he will prove the
weeping philosopher when he grows old, being so full of unmannerly
sadness in his youth. I had rather be married to a death’s-head with a
bone in his mouth than to either of these. God defend me from these
two!
NERISSA.
How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon?
PORTIA.
God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man. In truth, I know it
is a sin to be a mocker, but he! why, he hath a horse better than the
Neapolitan’s, a better bad habit of frowning than the Count Palatine.
He is every man in no man. If a throstle sing, he falls straight
a-cap’ring. He will fence with his own shadow. If I should marry him, I
should marry twenty husbands. If he would despise me, I would forgive
him, for if he love me to madness, I shall never requite him.
NERISSA.
What say you then to Falconbridge, the young baron of England?
PORTIA.
You know I say nothing to him, for he understands not me, nor I him: he
hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian, and you will come into the
court and swear that I have a poor pennyworth in the English. He is a
proper man’s picture; but alas, who can converse with a dumb-show? How
oddly he is suited! I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round
hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour everywhere.
NERISSA.
What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour?
PORTIA.
That he hath a neighbourly charity in him, for he borrowed a box of the
ear of the Englishman, and swore he would pay him again when he was
able. I think the Frenchman became his surety, and seal’d under for
another.
NERISSA.
How like you the young German, the Duke of Saxony’s nephew?
PORTIA.
Very vilely in the morning when he is sober, and most vilely in the
afternoon when he is drunk: when he is best, he is a little worse than
a man, and when he is worst, he is little better than a beast. And the
worst fall that ever fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without him.
NERISSA.
If he should offer to choose, and choose the right casket, you should
refuse to perform your father’s will, if you should refuse to accept
him.
PORTIA.
Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee set a deep glass of
Rhenish wine on the contrary casket, for if the devil be within and
that temptation without, I know he will choose it. I will do anything,
Nerissa, ere I will be married to a sponge.
NERISSA.
You need not fear, lady, the having any of these lords. They have
acquainted me with their determinations, which is indeed to return to
their home, and to trouble you with no more suit, unless you may be won
by some other sort than your father’s imposition, depending on the
caskets.
PORTIA.
If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as chaste as Diana,
unless I be obtained by the manner of my father’s will. I am glad this
parcel of wooers are so reasonable, for there is not one among them but
I dote on his very absence. And I pray God grant them a fair departure.
NERISSA.
Do you not remember, lady, in your father’s time, a Venetian, a scholar
and a soldier, that came hither in company of the Marquis of
Montferrat?
PORTIA.
Yes, yes, it was Bassanio, as I think, so was he call’d.
NERISSA.
True, madam. He, of all the men that ever my foolish eyes look’d upon,
was the best deserving a fair lady.
PORTIA.
I remember him well, and I remember him worthy of thy praise.
Enter a Servingman.
How now! what news?
SERVINGMAN.
The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take their leave. And there
is a forerunner come from a fifth, the Prince of Morocco, who brings
word the Prince his master will be here tonight.
PORTIA.
If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good heart as I can bid the
other four farewell, I should be glad of his approach. If he have the
condition of a saint and the complexion of a devil, I had rather he
should shrive me than wive me. Come, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before. Whiles
we shut the gate upon one wooer, another knocks at the door.
[_Exeunt._]
SCENE III. Venice. A public place.
Enter Bassanio with Shylock the Jew.
SHYLOCK.
Three thousand ducats, well.
BASSANIO.
Ay, sir, for three months.
SHYLOCK.
For three months, well.
BASSANIO.
For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound.
SHYLOCK.
Antonio shall become bound, well.
BASSANIO.
May you stead me? Will you pleasure me? Shall I know your answer?
SHYLOCK.
Three thousand ducats for three months, and Antonio bound.
BASSANIO.
Your answer to that.
SHYLOCK.
Antonio is a good man.
BASSANIO.
Have you heard any imputation to the contrary?
SHYLOCK.
Ho, no, no, no, no: my meaning in saying he is a good man is to have
you understand me that he is sufficient. Yet his means are in
supposition: he hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the
Indies. I understand, moreover, upon the Rialto, he hath a third at
Mexico, a fourth for England, and other ventures he hath squandered
abroad. But ships are but boards, sailors but men; there be land-rats
and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves—I mean pirates—and then
there is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks. The man is,
notwithstanding, sufficient. Three thousand ducats. I think I may take
his bond.
BASSANIO.
Be assured you may.
SHYLOCK.
I will be assured I may. And that I may be assured, I will bethink me.
May I speak with Antonio?
BASSANIO.
If it please you to dine with us.
SHYLOCK.
Yes, to smell pork, to eat of the habitation which your prophet, the
Nazarite, conjured the devil into. I will buy with you, sell with you,
talk with you, walk with you, and so following; but I will not eat with
you, drink with you, nor pray with you. What news on the Rialto? Who is
he comes here?
Enter Antonio.
BASSANIO.
This is Signior Antonio.
SHYLOCK.
[_Aside._] How like a fawning publican he looks!
I hate him for he is a Christian,
But more for that in low simplicity
He lends out money gratis, and brings down
The rate of usance here with us in Venice.
If I can catch him once upon the hip,
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
He hates our sacred nation, and he rails,
Even there where merchants most do congregate,
On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift,
Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe
If I forgive him!
BASSANIO.
Shylock, do you hear?
SHYLOCK.
I am debating of my present store,
And by the near guess of my memory
I cannot instantly raise up the gross
Of full three thousand ducats. What of that?
Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe,
Will furnish me. But soft! how many months
Do you desire? [_To Antonio._] Rest you fair, good signior,
Your worship was the last man in our mouths.
ANTONIO.
Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor borrow
By taking nor by giving of excess,
Yet to supply the ripe wants of my friend,
I’ll break a custom. [_To Bassanio._] Is he yet possess’d
How much ye would?
SHYLOCK.
Ay, ay, three thousand ducats.
ANTONIO.
And for three months.
SHYLOCK.
I had forgot, three months, you told me so.
Well then, your bond. And let me see, but hear you,
Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow
Upon advantage.
ANTONIO.
I do never use it.
SHYLOCK.
When Jacob graz’d his uncle Laban’s sheep,—
This Jacob from our holy Abram was
As his wise mother wrought in his behalf,
The third possessor; ay, he was the third.
ANTONIO.
And what of him? Did he take interest?
SHYLOCK.
No, not take interest, not, as you would say,
Directly interest; mark what Jacob did.
When Laban and himself were compromis’d
That all the eanlings which were streak’d and pied
Should fall as Jacob’s hire, the ewes being rank
In end of autumn turned to the rams,
And when the work of generation was
Between these woolly breeders in the act,
The skilful shepherd pill’d me certain wands,
And in the doing of the deed of kind,
He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes,
Who then conceiving did in eaning time
Fall parti-colour’d lambs, and those were Jacob’s.
This was a way to thrive, and he was blest;
And thrift is blessing if men steal it not.
ANTONIO.
This was a venture, sir, that Jacob serv’d for,
A thing not in his power to bring to pass,
But sway’d and fashion’d by the hand of heaven.
Was this inserted to make interest good?
Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams?
SHYLOCK.
I cannot tell; I make it breed as fast.
But note me, signior.
ANTONIO.
Mark you this, Bassanio,
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.
An evil soul producing holy witness
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek,
A goodly apple rotten at the heart.
O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!
SHYLOCK.
Three thousand ducats, ’tis a good round sum.
Three months from twelve, then let me see the rate.
ANTONIO.
Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you?
SHYLOCK.
Signior Antonio, many a time and oft
In the Rialto you have rated me
About my moneys and my usances.
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug,
(For suff’rance is the badge of all our tribe.)
You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog,
And spet upon my Jewish gaberdine,
And all for use of that which is mine own.
Well then, it now appears you need my help.
Go to, then, you come to me, and you say
“Shylock, we would have moneys.” You say so:
You that did void your rheum upon my beard,
And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur
Over your threshold, moneys is your suit.
What should I say to you? Should I not say
“Hath a dog money? Is it possible
A cur can lend three thousand ducats?” Or
Shall I bend low and, in a bondman’s key,
With bated breath and whisp’ring humbleness,
Say this:
“Fair sir, you spet on me on Wednesday last;
You spurn’d me such a day; another time
You call’d me dog; and for these courtesies
I’ll lend you thus much moneys”?
ANTONIO.
I am as like to call thee so again,
To spet on thee again, to spurn thee too.
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not
As to thy friends, for when did friendship take
A breed for barren metal of his friend?
But lend it rather to thine enemy,
Who if he break, thou mayst with better face
Exact the penalty.
SHYLOCK.
Why, look you how you storm!
I would be friends with you, and have your love,
Forget the shames that you have stain’d me with,
Supply your present wants, and take no doit
Of usance for my moneys, and you’ll not hear me,
This is kind I offer.
BASSANIO.
This were kindness.
SHYLOCK.
This kindness will I show.
Go with me to a notary, seal me there
Your single bond; and in a merry sport,
If you repay me not on such a day,
In such a place, such sum or sums as are
Express’d in the condition, let the forfeit
Be nominated for an equal pound
Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken
In what part of your body pleaseth me.
ANTONIO.
Content, in faith, I’ll seal to such a bond,
And say there is much kindness in the Jew.
BASSANIO.
You shall not seal to such a bond for me,
I’ll rather dwell in my necessity.
ANTONIO.
Why, fear not, man, I will not forfeit it,
Within these two months, that’s a month before
This bond expires, I do expect return
Of thrice three times the value of this bond.
SHYLOCK.