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

I have a mind to it.

BASSANIO.. There’s more depends on this than on the value.

The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, And find it out by proclamation;

Only for this, I pray you, pardon me.

PORTIA. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers; You taught me first to beg, and now, methinks, You teach me how a beggar should be answer’d.

BASSANIO. Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife; And, when she put it on, she made me vow That I should neither sell, nor give, nor lose it.

PORTIA. That ‘scuse serves many men to save their gifts.

And if your wife be not a mad woman,

And know how well I have deserv’d this ring, She would not hold out enemy for ever For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you!

Exeunt PORTIA and NERISSA ANTONIO. My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring.

Let his deservings, and my love withal, Be valued ‘gainst your wife’s commandment.

BASSANIO. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him; Give him the ring, and bring him, if thou canst, Unto Antonio’s house. Away, make haste. Exit GRATIANO

Come, you and I will thither presently; And in the morning early will we both Fly toward Belmont. Come, Antonio. Exeunt

SCENE II.

Venice. A street

 

Enter PORTIA and NERISSA

 

PORTIA. Inquire the Jew’s house out, give him this deed, And let him sign it; we’ll away tonight, And be a day before our husbands home.

This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo.

 

Enter GRATIANO

 

GRATIANO. Fair sir, you are well o’erta’en.

My Lord Bassanio, upon more advice,

Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat Your company at dinner.

PORTIA. That cannot be.

His ring I do accept most thankfully, And so, I pray you, tell him. Furthermore, I pray you show my youth old Shylock’s house.

GRATIANO. That will I do.

NERISSA. Sir, I would speak with you.

[Aside to PORTIA] I’ll See if I can get my husband’s ring, Which I did make him swear to keep for ever.

PORTIA. [To NERISSA] Thou Mayst, I warrant. We shall have old swearing

That they did give the rings away to men; But we’ll outface them, and outswear them too.

[Aloud] Away, make haste, thou know’st where I will tarry.

NERISSA. Come, good sir, will you show me to this house?

Exeunt

ACT V. SCENE I.

Belmont. The garden before PORTIA’S house Enter LORENZO and JESSICA

 

LORENZO. The moon shines bright. In such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, And they did make no noise-in such a night, Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls, And sigh’d his soul toward the Grecian tents, Where Cressid lay that night.

JESSICA. In such a night

Did Thisby fearfully o’ertrip the dew, And saw the lion’s shadow ere himself, And ran dismayed away.

LORENZO. In such a night

Stood Dido with a willow in her hand

Upon the wild sea-banks, and waft her love To come again to Carthage.

JESSICA. In such a night

Medea gathered the enchanted herbs

That did renew old AEson.

LORENZO. In such a night

Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew, And with an unthrift love did run from Venice As far as Belmont.

JESSICA. In such a night

Did young Lorenzo swear he lov’d her well, Stealing her soul with many vows of faith, And ne’er a true one.

LORENZO. In such a night

Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, Slander her love, and he forgave it her.

JESSICA. I would out-night you, did no body come; But, hark, I hear the footing of a man.

 

Enter STEPHANO

 

LORENZO. Who comes so fast in silence of the night?

STEPHANO. A friend.

LORENZO. A friend! What friend? Your name, I pray you, friend?

STEPHANO. Stephano is my name, and I bring word My mistress will before the break of day Be here at Belmont; she doth stray about By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays For happy wedlock hours.

LORENZO. Who comes with her?

STEPHANO. None but a holy hermit and her maid.

I pray you, is my master yet return’d?

LORENZO. He is not, nor we have not heard from him.

But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica,

And ceremoniously let us prepare

Some welcome for the mistress of the house.

 

Enter LAUNCELOT

 

LAUNCELOT. Sola, sola! wo ha, ho! sola, sola!

LORENZO. Who calls?

LAUNCELOT. Sola! Did you see Master Lorenzo? Master Lorenzo! Sola, sola!

LORENZO. Leave holloaing, man. Here!

LAUNCELOT. Sola! Where, where?

LORENZO. Here!

LAUNCELOT. Tell him there’s a post come from my master with his horn full of good news; my master will be here ere morning.

Exit

LORENZO. Sweet soul, let’s in, and there expect their coming.

And yet no matter-why should we go in?

My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, Within the house, your mistress is at hand; And bring your music forth into the air. Exit STEPHANO

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!

Here will we sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony.

Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold; There’s not the smallest orb which thou behold’st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-ey’d cherubins; Such harmony is in immortal souls,

But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.

 

Enter MUSICIANS

 

Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn; With sweetest touches pierce your mistress’ ear.

And draw her home with music. [Music]

JESSICA. I am never merry when I hear sweet music.

LORENZO. The reason is your spirits are attentive; For do but note a wild and wanton herd, Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, Which is the hot condition of their blood-If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, Or any air of music touch their ears, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, Their savage eyes turn’d to a modest gaze By the sweet power of music. Therefore the poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods; Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, But music for the time doth change his nature.

The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not mov’d with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull:as night, And his affections dark as Erebus.

Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music.

 

Enter PORTIA and NERISSA PORTIA. That light we see is burning in my hall.

How far that little candle throws his beams!

So shines a good deed in a naughty world.

NERISSA. When the moon shone, we did not see the candle.

PORTIA. So doth the greater glory dim the less: A substitute shines brightly as a king Until a king be by, and then his state Empties itself, as doth an inland brook Into the main of waters. Music! hark!

NERISSA. It is your music, madam, of the house.

PORTIA. Nothing is good, I see, without respect; Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day.

NERISSA. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.

PORTIA. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark When neither is attended; and I think ne nightingale, if she should sing by day, When every goose is cackling, would be thought No better a musician than the wren.

How many things by season season’d are To their right praise and true perfection!

Peace, ho! The moon sleeps with Endymion, And would not be awak’d. [Music ceases]

LORENZO. That is the voice,

Or I am much deceiv’d, of Portia.

PORTIA. He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo, By the bad voice.

LORENZO. Dear lady, welcome home.

PORTIA. We have been praying for our husbands’ welfare, Which speed, we hope, the better for our words.

Are they return’d?

LORENZO. Madam, they are not yet;

But there is come a messenger before, To signify their coming.

PORTIA.. Go in, Nerissa;

Give order to my servants that they take No note at all of our being absent hence; Nor you, Lorenzo; Jessica, nor you. [A tucket sounds]

LORENZO. Your husband is at hand; I hear his trumpet.

We are no tell-tales, madam, fear you not.

PORTIA. This night methinks is but the daylight sick; It looks a little paler; ‘tis a day

Such as the day is when the sun is hid.

 

Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and their followers BASSANIO. We should hold day with the Antipodes, If you would walk in absence of the sun.

PORTIA. Let me give light, but let me not be light, For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, And never be Bassanio so for me;

But God sort all! You are welcome home, my lord.

BASSANIO. I thank you, madam; give welcome to my friend.

This is the man, this is Antonio,

To whom I am so infinitely bound.

PORTIA. You should in all sense be much bound to him, For, as I hear, he was much bound for you.

ANTONIO. No more than I am well acquitted of.

PORTIA. Sir, you are very welcome to our house.

It must appear in other ways than words, Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.

GRATIANO. [To NERISSA] By yonder moon I swear you do me wrong; In faith, I gave it to the judge’s clerk.

Would he were gelt that had it, for my part, Since you do take it, love, so much at heart.

PORTIA. A quarrel, ho, already! What’s the matter?

GRATIANO. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring That she did give me, whose posy was

For all the world like cutler’s poetry Upon a knife, ‘Love me, and leave me not.’

NERISSA. What talk you of the posy or the value?

You swore to me, when I did give it you, That you would wear it till your hour of death, And that it should lie with you in your grave; Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, You should have been respective and have kept it.

Gave it a judge’s clerk! No, God’s my judge, The clerk will ne’er wear hair on’s face that had it.

GRATIANO. He will, an if he live to be a man.

NERISSA. Ay, if a woman live to be a man.

GRATIANO. Now by this hand I gave it to a youth, A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy

No higher than thyself, the judge’s clerk; A prating boy that begg’d it as a fee; I could not for my heart deny it him.

PORTIA. You were to blame, I must be plain with you, To part so slightly with your wife’s first gift, A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger And so riveted with faith unto your flesh.

I gave my love a ring, and made him swear Never to part with it, and here he stands; I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it Nor pluck it from his finger for the wealth That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief; An ‘twere to me, I should be mad at it.

BASSANIO. [Aside] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, And swear I lost the ring defending it.

GRATIANO. My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away Unto the judge that begg’d it, and indeed Deserv’d it too; and then the boy, his clerk, That took some pains in writing, he begg’d mine; And neither man nor master would take aught But the two rings.

PORTIA. What ring gave you, my lord?

Not that, I hope, which