For, as thou urgest justice, be assur❜d

Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest.

Gra. O learned judge!-Mark, Jew !—a learned judge! Shy. I take this offer then,-pay the bond thrice, And let the Christian go.

Bass.

Por. Soft.

Here is the money.

The Jew shall have all justice;-soft;-no haste ;-
He shall have nothing but the penalty.

Gra. O Jew! an upright judge, a learned judge!
Por. Therefore, prepare thee to cut off the flesh.
Shed thou no blood; nor cut thou less, nor more,
But just a pound of flesh: if thou tak'st more,
Or less, than a just pound,-be it but so much
As makes it light, or heavy, in the substance,
Or the division of the twentieth part

Of one poor scruple,-nay, if the scale do turn
But in the estimation of a hair,—

Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate.
Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew!

Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip.

Por. Why doth the Jew pause? take thy forfeiture.
Shy. Give me my principal, and let me go.
Bass. I have it ready for thee; here it is.
Por. He hath refus'd it in the open court;
He shall have merely justice, and his bond.
Gra. A Daniel, stili say I; a second Daniel!—
I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.
Shy. Shall I not have barely my principal?
Por. Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture,
To be so taken at thy peril, Jew.

Shy. Why, then the devil give him good of it!
I'll stay no longer question.

Por.

Tarry, Jew; The law hath yet another hold on you.

It is enacted in the laws of Venice,

If it be prov'd against an alien,
That by direct or indirect attempts
He seek the life of any citizen,

The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive
Shall seize one half his goods; the other half
Comes to the privy coffer of the state;
And the offender's life lies in the mercy
Of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice.
In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st⚫

For it appears by manifest proceeding,
That, indirectly, and directly too,
Thou hast contriv'd against the very life
Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr'd
The danger formerly by me rehears'd.
Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the duke.

Gra. Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself:
And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state,
Thou hast not left the value of a cord;

Therefore, thou must be hang'd at the state's charge.
Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit,
I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it:
For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's;
The other half comes to the general state,
Which humbleness may drive unto a fine.

Por. Ay, for the state; not for Antonio.

Shy. Nay, take my life and all, pardon not that: You take my house, when you do take the prop That doth sustain my house; you take my life, When you do take the means whereby I live.

Por. What mercy can you render him, Antonio? Gra. A halter gratis; nothing else, for God's sake. Ant. So please my lord the duke, and all the court, To quit the fine for one half of his goods

I am content, so he will let me have

The other half in use, to render it,
Upon his death, unto the gentleman
That lately stole his daughter;

Two things provided more,―That for this favour,
He presently become a Christian;

The other, that he do record a gift,

Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd,

Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter.

Duke. He shall do this; or else I do recant

The pardon that I late pronounced here.

Por. Art thou contented, Jew; what dost thou say? Shy. I am content.

Por.

Clerk, draw a deed of gift.

Shy. I pray you give me leave to go from hence: I am not well; send the deed after me,

And I will sign it.

Duke.

Get thee gone, but do it.

In use-lent on interest.

II.

ACT V.-SCENE I.-Belmont.

Avenue to Portia's House.

Enter LORENZO and JESSICA.

Lor. 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 Trojan walls,
And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents,
Where Cressid lay that night.

Jes.
In such a night,
Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew;
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself,
And ran dismay'd away.

Lor.

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.

Jes.

Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs

That did renew old son.

Lor.

In such a night,

In such a night,

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

Jes.

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.

Lor.

In such a night,

Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,

Slander her love, and he forgave it her.

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

Enter STEPHANO.

Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night?
Steph. A friend.

Lor. A friend? what friend? your name, I pray you,

friend.

Steph. 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.

Lor.

Who comes with her?

Steph. None, but a holy hermit, and her maid.

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

Lor. 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 (a Servant).

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

Lor. Who calls?

Laun. Sola! Did you see master Lorenzo, and mistress Lorenzo? sola, sola!

Lor. Leave hollaing, man; here.

Laun. Sola! Where? where?

Lor. Here.

Laun. 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 STEPH.

[Exit. Lor. 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. 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 patinesa 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-eyed 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.

• Patines. A patine is the small flat dish or plate used in the service of the altar.

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

Lor. 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,

[Music

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 at a distance.

Por. 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.

Ner. When the moon shone we did not see the candle. Por. 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! Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house. Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect; Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, When neither is attended; and, I think, The 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!