The Merchant of Venice

reproach. Shylock So do I his. Launcelot An they have conspired together, I will not say you shall see a masque; but if you do, then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a-bleeding on Black-Monday last at six o’clock i’ the morning, falling out that year on Ash-Wednesday was four year, in the afternoon. Shylock

What, are there masques? Hear you me, Jessica:
Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum
And the vile squealing of the wry-neck’d fife,
Clamber not you up to the casements then,
Nor thrust your head into the public street
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish’d faces,
But stop my house’s ears, I mean my casements:
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter
My sober house. By Jacob’s staff, I swear,
I have no mind of feasting forth to-night:
But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah;
Say I will come.

Launcelot I will go before, sir. Mistress, look out at window, for all this, There will come a Christian boy, will be worth a Jewess’ eye. Exit. Shylock What says that fool of Hagar’s offspring, ha? Jessica His words were “Farewell mistress;” nothing else. Shylock

The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder;
Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day
More than the wild-cat: drones hive not with me;
Therefore I part with him, and part with him
To one that would have him help to waste
His borrow’d purse. Well, Jessica, go in;
Perhaps I will return immediately:
Do as I bid you; shut doors after you:
Fast bind, fast find;
A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. Exit.

Jessica

Farewell; and if my fortune be not crost,
I have a father, you a daughter, lost. Exit.

Scene VI

The same.

	Enter Gratiano and Salarino, masqued.
Gratiano	This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo Desired us to make stand.
Salarino	His hour is almost past.
Gratiano	And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, For lovers ever run before the clock.
Salarino	O, ten times faster Venus’ pigeons fly To seal love’s bonds new-made, than they are wont To keep obliged faith unforfeited!
Gratiano	That ever holds: who riseth from a feast With that keen appetite that he sits down? Where is the horse that doth untread again His tedious measures with the unbated fire That he did pace them first? All things that are, Are with more spirit chased than enjoy’d. How like a younker or a prodigal The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, Hugg’d and embraced by the strumpet wind! How like the prodigal doth she return, With over-weather’d ribs and ragged sails, Lean, rent and beggar’d by the strumpet wind!
Salarino	Here comes Lorenzo: more of this hereafter.
	Enter Lorenzo.
Lorenzo	Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode; Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait: When you shall please to play the thieves for wives, I’ll watch as long for you then. Approach; Here dwells my father Jew. Ho! who’s within?
	Enter Jessica, above, in boy’s clothes.
Jessica	Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty, Albeit I’ll swear that I do know your tongue.
Lorenzo	Lorenzo, and thy love.
Jessica	Lorenzo, certain, and my love indeed, For who love I so much? And now who knows But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours?
Lorenzo	Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art.
Jessica	Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains. I am glad ’tis night, you do not look on me, For I am much ashamed of my exchange: But love is blind and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit; For if they could, Cupid himself would blush To see me thus transformed to a boy.
Lorenzo	Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer.
Jessica	What, must I hold a candle to my shames? They in themselves, good-sooth, are too too light. Why, ’tis an office of discovery, love; And I should be obscured.
Lorenzo	So are you, sweet, Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. But come at once; For the close night doth play the runaway, And we are stay’d for at Bassanio’s feast.
Jessica	I will make fast the doors, and gild myself With some more ducats, and be with you straight. Exit above.
Gratiano	Now, by my hood, a Gentile and no Jew.
Lorenzo	Beshrew me but I love her heartily; For she is wise, if I can judge of her, And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true, And true she is, as she hath proved herself, And therefore, like herself, wise, fair and true, Shall she be placed in my constant soul.
	Enter Jessica, below.
	What, art thou come? On, gentlemen; away! Our masquing mates by this time for us stay. Exit with Jessica and Salarino.
	Enter Antonio.
Antonio	Who’s there?
Gratiano	Signior Antonio!
Antonio	Fie, fie, Gratiano! where are all the rest? ’Tis nine o’clock: our friends all stay for you. No masque to-night: the wind is come about; Bassanio presently will go aboard: I have sent twenty out to seek for you.
Gratiano	I am glad on’t: I desire no more delight Than to be under sail and gone to-night. Exeunt.

Scene VII

Belmont. A room in Portia’s house.

	Flourish of cornets. Enter Portia, with the Prince of Morocco, and their trains.
Portia	Go draw aside the curtains and discover The several caskets to this noble prince. Now make your choice.
Morocco	The first, of gold, who this inscription bears, “Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire;” The second, silver, which this promise carries, “Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves;” This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt, “Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.” How shall I know if I do choose the right?
Portia	The one of them contains my picture, prince: If you choose that, then I am yours withal.
Morocco	Some god direct my judgment! Let me see; I will survey the inscriptions back again. What says this leaden casket? “Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.” Must give: for what? for lead? hazard for lead? This casket threatens. Men that hazard all Do it in hope of fair advantages: A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross; I’ll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead. What says the silver with her virgin hue? “Who chooseth me