The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, William Shakespeare [book recommendations based on other books txt] 📗

to his mere enemy,

To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady, The paper as the body of my friend,

And every word in it a gaping wound

Issuing lifeblood. But is it true, Salerio?

Hath all his ventures fail’d? What, not one hit?

From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England, From Lisbon, Barbary, and India,

And not one vessel scape the dreadful touch Of merchant-marring rocks?

SALERIO. Not one, my lord.

Besides, it should appear that, if he had The present money to discharge the Jew, He would not take it. Never did I know A creature that did bear the shape of man So keen and greedy to confound a man.

He plies the Duke at morning and at night, And doth impeach the freedom of the state, If they deny him justice. Twenty merchants, The Duke himself, and the magnificoes Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him; But none can drive him from the envious plea Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond.

JESSICA. When I was with him, I have heard him swear To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen, That he would rather have Antonio’s flesh Than twenty times the value of the sum That he did owe him; and I know, my lord, If law, authority, and power, deny not, It will go hard with poor Antonio.

PORTIA. Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble?

BASSANIO. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, The best condition’d and unwearied spirit In doing courtesies; and one in whom

The ancient Roman honour more appears Than any that draws breath in Italy.

PORTIA. What sum owes he the Jew?

BASSANIO. For me, three thousand ducats.

PORTIA. What! no more?

Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond; Double six thousand, and then treble that, Before a friend of this description

Shall lose a hair through Bassanio’s fault.

First go with me to church and call me wife, And then 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 twenty times over.

When it is paid, bring your true friend along.

My maid Nerissa and myself meantime

Will live as maids and widows. Come, away; For you shall hence upon your wedding day.

Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer; Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear.

But let me hear the letter of your friend.

BASSANIO. [Reads] ‘Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all miscarried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low, my bond to the Jew is forfeit; and since, in paying it, it is impossible I should live, all debts are clear’d between you and I, if I might but see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your pleasure; if your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter.’

PORTIA. O love, dispatch all business and be gone!

BASSANIO. Since I have your good leave to go away, I will make haste; but, till I come again, No bed shall e’er be guilty of my stay, Nor rest be interposer ‘twixt us twain. Exeunt

SCENE III.

Venice. A street

 

Enter SHYLOCK, SOLANIO, ANTONIO, and GAOLER

 

SHYLOCK. Gaoler, look to him. Tell not me of mercy-This is the fool that lent out money gratis.

Gaoler, look to him.

ANTONIO. Hear me yet, good Shylock.

SHYLOCK. I’ll have my bond; speak not against my bond.

I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond.

Thou call’dst me dog before thou hadst a cause, But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs; The Duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder, Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond To come abroad with him at his request.

ANTONIO. I pray thee hear me speak.

SHYLOCK. I’ll have my bond. I will not hear thee speak; I’ll have my bond; and therefore speak no more.

I’ll not be made a soft and dull-ey’d fool, To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield, To Christian intercessors. Follow not; I’ll have no speaking; I will have my bond. Exit SOLANIO. It is the most impenetrable cur That ever kept with men.

ANTONIO. Let him alone;

I’ll follow him no more with bootless prayers.

He seeks my life; his reason well I know: I oft deliver’d from his forfeitures

Many that have at times made moan to me; Therefore he hates me.

SOLANIO. I am sure the Duke

Will never grant this forfeiture to hold.

ANTONIO. The Duke cannot deny the course of law; For the commodity that strangers have With us in Venice, if it be denied,

Will much impeach the justice of the state, Since that the trade and profit of the city Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go; These griefs and losses have so bated me That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh Tomorrow to my bloody creditor.

Well, gaoler, on; pray God Bassanio come To see me pay his debt, and then I care not. Exeunt

SCENE IV.

Belmont. PORTIA’S house

 

Enter PORTIA, NERISSA, LORENZO, JESSICA, and BALTHASAR

 

LORENZO. Madam, although I speak it in your presence, You have a noble and a true conceit

Of godlike 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 hellish 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 Bassanio and myself.

So fare you well till we shall meet again.

LORENZO. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you!

JESSICA. I wish your ladyship 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 damn’d. There is but one hope in it that can do you any good, and that is but a kind of bastard 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 bastard hope indeed; so the sins of my mother should be visited upon me.

LAUNCELOT. Truly then I fear you are damn’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.