« AnteriorContinuar »
Dum. But what to me, my love ? but what
Enter ARMADO. to me? Kath. A wife !-A beard, fair health, and
Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me, honesty;
Prin. Was not that Hector? With three-fold love I wish you all these three.
Dum. The worthy knight of Troy. Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle leave: I am a votary, I have vowed to Jaque
Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take wife? Kath. Not so, my lord ;-a twelvemonth and netta to hold the plough for her sweet love three a day
years. But, most esteemed greatness, will you I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers compiled, in praise of the owl and the cuckoo ?
[say: hear the
men have Come when the king doth to my lady come, Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some.
it should have followed in the end of our show, Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till
King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so. then.
Arm. Holla! approach. Kath. Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn again.
Enter Holofernes, Nathaniel, Moth, Long. What says Maria ?
COSTARD, and others. Mar. At the twelvemonth's end,
This side is Hiems, winter; this Ver, the I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend. spring; the one maintained by the owl, the Long. I'll stay with patience; but the time is other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin.
long. Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young.
Song. Biron. Studies my lady? mistress look on me, Behold the window of my heart, mine eye, Spring. When daisies pied, and violets blue, What humble suit attends thy answer there;
And lady-smocks all silver-white, Impose some service on me for thy love.
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue, Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Birón,
Do paint the meadows with delight, Before I saw you: and the world's large tongue
The cuckoo then, on every tree, • Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks;
Mocks married men, for thus sings he, Full of comparisons and wounding flouts;
Cuckoo ; Which you on all estates will execute,
Cuckoo, cuckoo,-0 word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
II. (Without the which I am not to be won,)
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day
And merry larks ure ploughmen's clocks, Visit the speechless sick, and still converse
When turtles treud, and rooks, and daus, With groaning wretches; and your task shall
And maidens bleach their summer smocks, With all the fierce* endeavour of your wit, [be, The cuckoo then, on every tree, To enforce the pained impotent to smile.
Mocks married inen, for thus sings he, Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of
Unpleasing to a married ear!
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
And Tom bears logs into the hall, Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears,
And milk comes frozen home in pail, Deafʼd with the clamour of their own deart
When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl, groans, Will hear your idle scorns, continue then,
To-who; And I will have you, and that fault withal;
To-whit, to-who, a merry note, But, if they will not, throw away that spirit,
While greasy Joan doth keel* the pot. And I shall find you empty of that fault, Right joyful of your reformation.
IV. Biron. A twelvemonth? well, befal what will
When all aloud the wind doth blow, I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. [befal,
And coughing drowns the parson's saw, Prin. Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my
And birds sits brovding in the snow, leave. [To the King.
And Marian's nose looks red and raw, King. No, madam: we will bring you on
When roasted crabst hiss in the bowl, your way.
Then nightly sings the staring owl, Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old
To-whit, to-who, a merry note, Jack hath not Jill: these ladies' courtesy
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. Might well have made our sport a comedy.
King. Come, Sir, it wants a twelvemonth and Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after And then 'twill end.
[a day, the songs of Apollo. You, that way; we, this Biron. That's too long for a play.
(Exeunt. Vehement. + Immediate. * Cool.
DUKE OF VENICE.
Salerio, a Messenger from Venice.
LEONARDO, Servant to Bassanio.
Servants to Portia.
Portia, a rich Heiress.
JESSICA, Daughter to Shylock. LORENZO, in love with Jessica.
Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court SHYLOCK, a Jew.
of Justice, Jailer, Servants, and other AtTubal, a Jew, his Friend.
tendants. LAUNCELOT GOBBO, a Clown, Servant to Shylock,
Scene, partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, OLD GOBBO, Father to Launcelot.
the Seat of Portia, on the Continent.
That such a thing, bechanc'd, would make me SCENE 1.-Venice.-A Street.
But, tell not me; I know, Antonio (sad?
Is sad to think upon his merchandise. Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, und SALANIO. Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my furtune for Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad; My ventures are not in one bottom irusted, [it, It wearies me; you say, it wearies you;
Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
Salan. Why then you are in love.
Salun. Not in love neither? Then let's say, Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean;
you are sad, There, where your argosies* with portly sail, Because you are not merry: and, 'twere as easy Like signiors and rich burghers of the flood, For you, to laugh, and leap, and say, you are Or, as it were the pageants of the sea,
Janus, Do overpeer the petty traffickers,
Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed That curt'sy to them reverence,
Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time: As they fly by them with their woven wings. Some that will evermore peep through their Salan. Believe me, Sir, had I such venture
eyes, The better part of my affections would [forth, And laugh, like parrots, at a bagpiper; Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still And other of such vinegar aspect, Plucking the grass, to know where sits the That they'll not show their teeth in way of
[roads; Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. Peering in maps, for ports, and piers, and And every object, that might make me fear
Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO. Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt, Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble Would make me sad.
kinsman, Salar. My wind, cooling my broth,
Gratiano, and Lorenzo: Fare you well; Would blow me to an ague, when I thought We leave you now with better company. What harm a wind too great might do at sea. Sular. I would have staid till I had made I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
you merry, But I should think of shallows and of flats; If worthier friends had not prevented me. And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand, • Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. Vailingt her high-top lower than her ribs, I take it, your own business calls on you, To kiss her burial. Should I go to church, And you embrace the occasion to depart. And see the holy edifice of stone, [rocks? Salar. Good morrow, my good lords. And not bethink me straight of dangerous Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we Which touching but my gentle vessel's side,
laugh? Say, when? Would scatter all her spices on the stream; You grow exceeding strange: Must it be so? Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks ;
Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on And, in a word, but even now worth this, And now worth nothing ? Shall I have the
[Exeunt SALARINO and SALANIO. thought
Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you have found To think on this; and shall I lack the thought,
We two will leave you : but, at dinner time, * Ships of large burthen.
+ Lowering. I pray you, have in mind where we must meet.
Bass. I will not fail you.
Lie all unlock'd to your occasions. Gru. You look not well, signior Antonio; Bass. In my school days, when I had lost You have too much respect upon the world:
one shaft, They lose it, that do buy it with much care. I shot his fellow of the self-same flight Believe me, you are marvellously chang'il. The self-same way, with more advised watch, Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gra. To find t:je other forth; and by advent'ring both, tiago,
I oft found both: I urge this childhood proof, A stage, where every man must play a part, Because what follows is pure innocence. And mine a sad one.
I owe you much; and, like a wilful youth, Gra. Let me play the Fool:
That which I vwé is lost : but if you please With mirth and laughtorlet old wrinkles come; To shoot another arrow that self way And let my liver rather heat with wine, Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, Than ny eirt cool with mortifying grouns. As I will watch the aim, or to find both, Why subu da man, whose buoi is warm within, Or bring your latter hazard back again, Sit like bis grandsire cut in alabaster! [dice And thankfully rest debtor for the first. Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the juun- Ant. You know me well; and herein spend By being peevish! I tell thee whai, Antonio,
but time, I love thee, and it is my love the speaks; To wind about my love with circumstance; There are a sort of men, whose visages
And, out of doubi, you do me now more wrong, Do cream and mantle, like a stunding pond; In makirg question of my uttermost, And do a wiltul stiilness* entertain,
Than it you had made waste of all I have : With purpose to be dress d in an opinion Then do but say to me what I should do, Of wisdum, gravity, profound conceit; Tont in your knowledge may by me be done, As who should say, I am Sir Orasle,
And I am press'd* unto it: therefore, speak. And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!
Bass. in Belmont is a lady richly left, O, my Antonio, I do know of these,
And she is fair, and, fairer than that word, That therefore only are reputed wise,
Of wondrous virtues; sometimest from her eyes For saying nothing; who, I am very sure, I did receive fair speechless messages : If they should speak, would almost damn those Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalued ears,
[tools. To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia. Which, hearing them, would call their brothers, Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth; I'll tell thee more of this another time :
For the four winds blow in from every coast But fish not, with this melancholy bait, Renowned suitors : and her sunny locks For this fool's gudgeon, this opinion.- Hang on her temples like a golden fleece; Come, good Lorenzo :-Fare ye well, a while; Which makes her seat of Belmont, Colchus' I'll end my exhortation after dinner.
strand, Lor. 'Well, we will leave you then till din- And many Jasons come in quest of her. ner-time:
() my Antonio, had I but the means I must be one of these same dumb wise men, o hold a rival place with one of them, For Gratiano never lets me speak.
I have a mind presages me such thrift, Gra. Well, keep me company but two years That I should questionless be fortunate. more,
(tongue. Ant. Thou know'st, that all my fortunes are Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own
at sea; Ant. Farewell : I'll grow a talker for this gear. Nor have I money, nor commodity Gra. Thanks, i'faith; tor silence only is com- To raise a present suin: therefore go forth, mendable
[ble. Try what my credit can in Venice do ; In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendi- That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost,
[Ereunt GRATIANO und Lureszo. To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. Ant. Is that any thing now?
Go, presently inquire, and so will I, Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of no- where money is; and I no question make, thing, more than any man in all Venice: His To have it of my trust, or for my sake. reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two
[Exeunt. bushels of chaff; you shall seek all day ere you find them; and, when you have them, they SCENE II.-Belmont.—A Room in PORTIA'S are not worth the search.
Enter Portia and NERISSA.
Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is Bass. "Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, a-weary of this great world. How much I have disabled mine estate,
Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your By something showing a more swelling port
miseries were in the same abundance as your Than my faint means would grant continuance: good fortunes are: And, yet, for aught I see, Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd they are as sick, that surteit with too much, as From such a noble rate ; but my chief care they that starye with nothing: It is no mean Is, to come fairly off from the great debts, happiness therefore, to be seated in the mean; Wherein my time, something too prodigal, superfluity comes sooper by white hairs, but Hath left me gaged : To you Antonio, competency lives longer. I owe the most, in money, and in luve;
Por. Good sentences, and well pronounced. And from your love I have a warranty
Ner. They would be better, if well followed. To unburden all my plots and purposes,
Por. If to do were as easy as to know what How to get clear of all the debts I owe. were good to do, chapels had been churches,
Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know and poor men's cottages, princes' palaces. It And, if it stand, as you yourself still do, [it; is a good divine, thai follows his own instrucWithin the eye of honour, be assurd,
tions: I can easier teach twenty what were My purse, my person, my extremest means, good to be done, than be one of the twenty to Obstinate silence
follow mine own teaching. The brain may de- Ner. How like you the young German, tho vise laws for the blood; but a hot temper leaps duke of Saxony's nephew?" over a cold decree: such a hare is madness the Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he is youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel sober ; and most vilely in the afternoon, when the cripple. But this reasoning is not in the he is drunk: when he is best, he is little worse fashion to choose me a husband :-O me, the than a man; and when he is worst, he is little word choose! I may neither choose whom I better than a beast : an the worst fall that ever would, nor refuse whom I dislike; so is the fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without will of a living daughter curb'd by the will of him. a dead father :-Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose cannot choose one, nor refuse none ?
the right casket, you should refuse to perform Ner. Your father was ever virtuous; and your father's will, if you should refuse to acholy men, at their death, have good inspira- cept him. tions; therefore, the lottery, that he hath de- Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray vised' in these three chests, of gold, silver, thee, set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the and lead, (whereof who chooses his meaning, contrary casket: for, if the devil be within, chooses you,) will, no doubt, never be chosen and that temptation without, I know he will by any rightly, but one who you shall rightly choose it. I will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I lore. But what warmth is there in your affec- will be married to a sponge. tion towards any of these princely suitors that Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having are already come?
any of these lords ; they have acquainted me Por. I pray thee, overname them; and as with their determination : which is indeed, to thou namest them, I will describe them: and, return to their home, and to trouble you with according to my description, level at my affec- no more suit; unless you may be won by some tion.
other sort than your father's imposition, deNer. First, there is the Neapolitan prince.
pending on the caskets. Por. Ay, that's a colt,* indeed, for he doth Por. "If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I nothing but talk of his horse; and he makes it will die as chaste as Diana, unless I be ab- • a great appropriation to his good parts, that he tained by the manner of my father's will: I: can shoe him himself: I am much afraid, my am glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonalady his mother played false with a smith.
ble; for there is not one among them but I dote Ner. Then, is there the countyt Palatine.
on his very absence, and I pray God grant Por. He doth nothing but frown; as who them a fair departure. should say, An if you will not have me, choose : he hears merry tales, and smiles not: I fear, father's time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a
Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your he will prove the weeping philosopher when soldier, that came hither'in company of thu be grows old, being so full of unmannerly sad, marquis of Montferrat? ness in his youth. I had rather be married to a death's head with a bone in his mouth, so was he called.
Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio ; as I think, than to either of these. God defend me from
Ner. True, madam; he, of all the men that these two! Ner. How say you by the French lord, Mon- deserving a fair lady.
ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best sieur Le Bon ?
Por. I remember him well; and I remember Por. God made him, and therefore let him him worthy of thy praise.- How now! what pass for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to news ? be a mocker; But, he! why, he hath a horse better than the Neapolitan's; a better bad
Enter a SERVANT. habit of frowning than the count Palatine: he Serv. The four strangers seek for you, mais every man in no man: if a throstle sing, he dam, to take their leave : and there is a forefalls straight a capering; he will fence with runner come from a fifth, the prince of Morochis own shadow: if I should marry him, Ico; who brings word, the prince, his master, should marry twenty husbands: If he would will be here to-night. despise me, I would forgive him; for if he love Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with me to madness, I shall never requite him. so good a heart as I can bid the other four Ner. What say you then to Faulconbridge, farewell
, I should be glad of his approach: if the young baron of England ?
he have the condition of a saint, and the comPor. You know, I say nothing to him; for plexion of a devil, I had rather he should shrive be understands_not me, nor I him: he hath me than wive me. Come, Nerissa.—Sirrah, neither Latin, French, nor Italian; and you go before.-Whiles we shut the gate upon one will come into the court and swear, that I have wooer, another knocks at the door. [Exeunt. a poor penny-worth in the English. He is a proper man's picture; But, alas? who can con- SCENE III.- Venice.- A public place. verse with a dumb show? How oddly he is
Enter BASSANIO and SHYLOCK. suited ! I think, he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Ger- Shy. Three thousand ducats, -well. many, and his behaviour every where.
Bass. Ay, Sir, for three months. Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his Shy. For three months-well. neighbour?
Buss. For the which, as I told you, Antonio Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in shall be bound. him; for he borrowed a box of the ear of the
Shy. Antonio shall become bound, -well. Englishman, and swore he would pay him
Bass. May you stead me? Will you pleaagain, when he was able: I think, the French- sure me? Shall I know your answer? man became his surety, and sealed under for
Shy. Three thousand ducats, for three months, another.
and Antonio bound.
Bass. Your answer to that.
Shy. Antonio is a good man.
Ant. And what of him? did he take interest? Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the Shy. No, not take interest ; not, as you would contrary?
say, Shy. Ho, no, no, no, no ;--my meaning, in Directly interest: mark what Jacob did. saying he is a good man,
is to have you under- When Laban and himself were compromis'd, stand
me, that he is sufficient: yet his means That all the eanlings which were streak'd and are in supposition : he hath an argosy bound pied,
(rank, to Tripolis, another to the Indies; under- Should fall as Jacob's hire; the ewes, being stand moreover upon the Rialto, he hath a In the end of autumn turned to the rams: third at Mexico, a fourth for England,- -and | And when the work of generation was other ventures he hath, squander'd abroad: Between these woolly breeders in the act, But ships are but boards, sailors but men : The skilful shepherd peeld me certain wands, there be land-rats, and water-rats, water- And, in the doing of the deed of kind,* thieves, and land-thieves; I mean, pirates; He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes; and then, there is the peril of waters, winds, Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time and rocks: The man is, notwithstanding, suf- Fall 'party-colour’a lambs, and those were ficient;-three thousand ducats ;-I think, I
Jacob's. may take his bond.
This was a way to thrive, and he was blest; Buss. Be assured you may.
And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. Shy. I will be assured, I may; and, that Ant. This was a venture, Sir, that Jacob may be assured, I will bethink me: May I
serv'd for; speak with Antonio?
A thing not in his power to bring to pass, Bass. If it please you to dine with us. But sway'd, and fashion'd, by the hand of Shy. Yes, to smeli pork; to eat of the habi
heaven. tation which your prophet, the Nazarite, con- Was this inserted to make interest good ? jured the devil into: I will buy with you, sell | Or is your gold and silver, ewes and rams? with you, talk with you, walk with you, and Shy. I cannot tell ; I make it breed as fast:so following ; but I will not eat with you, drink But note me, signior. with you, nor pray with you. What news on Ant. Mark you this, Bassanio, the Rialto ?--Who is he comes here?
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; Shy. (Aside.] How like a fawning publican o, what a goodly outside falsehood bath! he looks!
Shy. Three thousand ducats,-'tis a good I hate him for he is a Christian :
(rate. But more, for that, in low simplicity,
Three months from twelvè, then let me see the He lends out money gratis, and brings down Ant. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholden to The rate of usance here with us in Venice.
you? If I can catch him once upon the hip,
Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. In the Rialto you have rated me He hates our sacred nation ; and he rails, About my monies, and my usances : Even there where merchants most do congre- Still have I borne it with a patient shrug; gate,
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe: On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrist, You call me-misbeliever, cut-throat dog, Which he calls interest: Cursed be my tribe, And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, If I forgive him!
And all for use of that which is mine own. Buss. Shylock, do you hear?
Well then, it now appears, you need my help: Shy. I am debating of my present store; Go to then; you come to me, and you say, And, by the near guess of my memory, Shylock, we would have monies ; You say so; I cannot instantly raise up the gross
You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, Of full three thousand ducats : What of that? And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cur Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, Over your threshold ; monies is your suit. Will furnish me; But soft ; How many months What should I say to you? Should I not say, Do you desire ?—Rest you fair, good signior; Hath a dog money? is it possible,
ITO ANTONIO. A cur can lend three thousand ducats? or Your worship was the last man in our mouths. Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key,
Ant. Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor bor- With 'bated breath, and whispering humbleBy taking, nor by giving of excess, [row, Say this,
[pess, Yet, to supply the ripe wants* of my friend, Fair Sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last; I'll break a custom:- Is he yet possess'd,t You spurn'd me such a day; another time How much you would ?
You calld me-dog ; und for these courtesies Shy. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats.
I'll lend you thus much monies. Ant. And for three months.
Ant. Iam as like to call thee so again, Shy. I had forgot,-three months, you told To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too.
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not Well then, your bönd; and, let me see, -But As to thy friends; (for when did friendship
[row, A breed for barren metal of his friend?) (take Methought, you said, you neither lend, nor bor- But lend it rather to thine enemy; Upon advantage.
Who, if he break, thou may'st with better face Ant. I do never use it.
Exact the penalty. Shy. When Jacob graz’d his uncle Laban's Shy. Why, look you, how you storm! sheep,
I would be friends with you, and have your * This Jacob from our holy Abraham was
love, (As his wise mother wrought in his behalf,) Forget the shames that you have staind me The third possessor; ay, he was the third. Supply your present wants, and take no doit * Wants which admit no longer delay. † Informed.