The Merchant of Venice

chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.”
What many men desire! that “many” may be meant
By the fool multitude, that choose by show,
Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach;
Which pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet,
Builds in the weather on the outward wall,
Even in the force and road of casualty.
I will not choose what many men desire,
Because I will not jump with common spirits
And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.
Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house;
Tell me once more what title thou dost bear:
“Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves:”
And well said too; for who shall go about
To cozen fortune and be honourable
Without the stamp of merit? Let none presume
To wear an undeserved dignity.
O, that estates, degrees and offices
Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honour
Were purchased by the merit of the wearer!
How many then should cover that stand bare!
How many be commanded that command!
How much low peasantry would then be glean’d
From the true seed of honour! and how much honour
Pick’d from the chaff and ruin of the times
To be new-varnish’d! Well, but to my choice:
“Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.”
I will assume desert. Give me a key for this,
And instantly unlock my fortunes here. He opens the silver casket. Portia Too long a pause for that which you find there. Arragon

What’s here? the portrait of a blinking idiot,
Presenting me a schedule! I will read it.
How much unlike art thou to Portia!
How much unlike my hopes and my deservings!
“Who chooseth me shall have as much as he deserves.”
Did I deserve no more than a fool’s head?
Is that my prize? are my deserts no better?

Portia

To offend, and judge, are distinct offices
And of opposed natures.

Arragon

What is here? Reads.

The fire seven times tried this:
Seven times tried that judgment is,
That did never choose amiss.
Some there be that shadows kiss;
Such have but a shadow’s bliss:
There be fools alive, I wis,
Silver’d o’er; and so was this.
Take what wife you will to bed,
I will ever be your head:
So be gone: you are sped.

Still more fool I shall appear
By the time I linger here
With one fool’s head I came to woo,
But I go away with two.
Sweet, adieu. I’ll keep my oath,
Patiently to bear my wroth. Exeunt Arragon and train.

Portia

Thus hath the candle singed the moth.
O, these deliberate fools! when they do choose,
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose.

Nerissa

The ancient saying is no heresy,
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.

Portia Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. Enter a Servant. Servant Where is my lady? Portia Here: what would my lord? Servant

Madam, there is alighted at your gate
A young Venetian, one that comes before
To signify the approaching of his lord;
From whom he bringeth sensible regreets,
To wit, besides commends and courteous breath,
Gifts of rich value. Yet I have not seen
So likely an ambassador of love:
A day in April never came so sweet,
To show how costly summer was at hand,
As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord.

Portia

No more, I pray thee: I am half afeard
Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee,
Thou spend’st such high-day wit in praising him.
Come, come, Nerissa; for I long to see
Quick Cupid’s post that comes so mannerly.

Nerissa Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be! Exeunt.

Act III

Scene I

Venice. A street.

	Enter Salanio and Salarino.
Salanio	Now, what news on the Rialto?
Salarino	Why, yet it lives there uncheck’d that Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wrecked on the narrow seas; the Goodwins, I think they call the place; a very dangerous flat and fatal, where the carcasses of many a tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossip Report be an honest woman of her word.
Salanio	I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever knapped ginger or made her neighbours believe she wept for the death of a third husband. But it is true, without any slips of prolixity or crossing the plain highway of talk, that the good Antonio, the honest Antonio,⁠—O that I had a title good enough to keep his name company!⁠—
Salarino	Come, the full stop.
Salanio	Ha! what sayest thou? Why, the end is, he hath lost a ship.
Salarino	I would it might prove the end of his losses.
Salanio	Let me isay “amen” betimes, lest the devil cross my prayer, for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew.
	Enter Shylock.
	How now, Shylock! what news among the merchants?
Shylock	You know, none so well, none so well as you, of my daughter’s flight.
Salarino	That’s certain: I, for my part, knew the tailor that made the wings she flew withal.
Salanio	And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was fledged; and then it is the complexion of them all to leave the dam.
Shylock	She is damned for it.
Salanio	That’s certain, if the devil may be her judge.
Shylock	My own flesh and blood to rebel!
Salanio	Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it at these years?
Shylock	I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood.
Salarino	There is more difference between thy flesh and hers than between jet and ivory; more between your bloods than there is between red wine and rhenish. But tell us, do you hear whether Antonio have had any loss at sea or no?
Shylock	There I have another bad match: a bankrupt, a prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto; a beggar, that was used to come so smug upon the mart; let him look to his bond: he was wont to call me usurer; let him look to his bond: he was wont to lend money for a Christian courtesy; let him look to his bond.
Salarino	Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his flesh: what’s that good for?
Shylock	To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered me half a million; laughed at my