X

The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare, 1564-1616

LAUNCELOT It is much that the Moor should be more than reason:

but if she be less than an honest woman, she is

indeed more than I took her for.

LORENZO How every fool can play upon the word! I think the

best grace of wit will shortly turn into silence,

and discourse grow commendable in none only but

parrots. Go in, sirrah; bid them prepare for dinner.

LAUNCELOT That is done, sir; they have all stomachs.

LORENZO Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you! then bid

them prepare dinner.

LAUNCELOT That is done too, sir; only ‘cover’ is the word.

LORENZO Will you cover then, sir?

LAUNCELOT Not so, sir, neither; I know my duty.

LORENZO Yet more quarrelling with occasion! Wilt thou show

the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant? I pray

tree, understand a plain man in his plain meaning:

go to thy fellows; bid them cover the table, serve

in the meat, and we will come in to dinner.

LAUNCELOT For the table, sir, it shall be served in; for the

meat, sir, it shall be covered; for your coming in

to dinner, sir, why, let it be as humours and

conceits shall govern.

Exit

LORENZO O dear discretion, how his words are suited!

The fool hath planted in his memory

An army of good words; and I do know

A many fools, that stand in better place,

Garnish’d like him, that for a tricksy word

Defy the matter. How cheerest thou, Jessica?

And now, good sweet, say thy opinion,

How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio’s wife?

JESSICA Past all expressing. It is very meet

The Lord Bassanio live an upright life;

For, having such a blessing in his lady,

He finds the joys of heaven here on earth;

And if on earth he do not mean it, then

In reason he should never come to heaven

Why, if two gods should play some heavenly match

And on the wager lay two earthly women,

And Portia one, there must be something else

Pawn’d with the other, for the poor rude world

Hath not her fellow.

LORENZO Even such a husband

Hast thou of me as she is for a wife.

JESSICA Nay, but ask my opinion too of that.

LORENZO I will anon: first, let us go to dinner.

JESSICA Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach.

LORENZO No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk;

Then, howso’er thou speak’st, ‘mong other things

I shall digest it.

JESSICA Well, I’ll set you forth.

Exeunt

Act 4

Scene 1

Venice. A court of justice.

Enter the DUKE, the Magnificoes, ANTONIO, BASSANIO, GRATIANO, SALERIO, and others

DUKE What, is Antonio here?

ANTONIO Ready, so please your grace.

DUKE I am sorry for thee: thou art come to answer

A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch

uncapable of pity, void and empty

From any dram of mercy.

ANTONIO I have heard

Your grace hath ta’en great pains to qualify

His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate

And that no lawful means can carry me

Out of his envy’s reach, I do oppose

My patience to his fury, and am arm’d

To suffer, with a quietness of spirit,

The very tyranny and rage of his.

DUKE Go one, and call the Jew into the court.

SALERIO He is ready at the door: he comes, my lord.

Enter SHYLOCK

DUKE Make room, and let him stand before our face.

Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too,

That thou but lead’st this fashion of thy malice

To the last hour of act; and then ’tis thought

Thou’lt show thy mercy and remorse more strange

Than is thy strange apparent cruelty;

And where thou now exact’st the penalty,

Which is a pound of this poor merchant’s flesh,

Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture,

But, touch’d with human gentleness and love,

Forgive a moiety of the principal;

Glancing an eye of pity on his losses,

That have of late so huddled on his back,

Enow to press a royal merchant down

And pluck commiseration of his state

From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint,

From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train’d

To offices of tender courtesy.

We all expect a gentle answer, Jew.

SHYLOCK I have possess’d your grace of what I purpose;

And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn

To have the due and forfeit of my bond:

If you deny it, let the danger light

Upon your charter and your city’s freedom.

You’ll ask me, why I rather choose to have

A weight of carrion flesh than to receive

Three thousand ducats: I’ll not answer that:

But, say, it is my humour: is it answer’d?

What if my house be troubled with a rat

And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats

To have it baned? What, are you answer’d yet?

Some men there are love not a gaping pig;

Some, that are mad if they behold a cat;

And others, when the bagpipe sings i’ the nose,

Cannot contain their urine: for affection,

Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood

Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer:

As there is no firm reason to be render’d,

Why he cannot abide a gaping pig;

Why he, a harmless necessary cat;

Why he, a woollen bagpipe; but of force

Must yield to such inevitable shame

As to offend, himself being offended;

So can I give no reason, nor I will not,

More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing

I bear Antonio, that I follow thus

A losing suit against him. Are you answer’d?

BASSANIO This is no answer, thou unfeeling man,

To excuse the current of thy cruelty.

SHYLOCK I am not bound to please thee with my answers.

BASSANIO Do all men kill the things they do not love?

SHYLOCK Hates any man the thing he would not kill?

BASSANIO Every offence is not a hate at first.

SHYLOCK What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice?

ANTONIO I pray you, think you question with the Jew:

You may as well go stand upon the beach

And bid the main flood bate his usual height;

You may as well use question with the wolf

Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb;

You may as well forbid the mountain pines

To wag their high tops and to make no noise,

When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven;

You may as well do anything most hard,

As seek to soften that–than which what’s harder?–

His Jewish heart: therefore, I do beseech you,

Make no more offers, use no farther means,

But with all brief and plain conveniency

Let me have judgment and the Jew his will.

BASSANIO For thy three thousand ducats here is six.

SHYLOCK What judgment shall I dread, doing

Were in six parts and every part a ducat,

I would not draw them; I would have my bond.

DUKE How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none?

SHYLOCK What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong?

You have among you many a purchased slave,

Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules,

You use in abject and in slavish parts,

Because you bought them: shall I say to you,

Let them be free, marry them to your heirs?

Why sweat they under burthens? let their beds

Be made as soft as yours and let their palates

Be season’d with such viands? You will answer

‘The slaves are ours:’ so do I answer you:

The pound of flesh, which I demand of him,

Is dearly bought; ’tis mine and I will have it.

If you deny me, fie upon your law!

There is no force in the decrees of Venice.

I stand for judgment: answer; shall I have it?

DUKE Upon my power I may dismiss this court,

Unless Bellario, a learned doctor,

Whom I have sent for to determine this,

Come here to-day.

SALERIO My lord, here stays without

A messenger with letters from the doctor,

New come from Padua.

DUKE Bring us the letter; call the messenger.

BASSANIO Good cheer, Antonio! What, man, courage yet!

The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones and all,

Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood.

ANTONIO I am a tainted wether of the flock,

Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit

Drops earliest to the ground; and so let me

You cannot better be employ’d, Bassanio,

Than to live still and write mine epitaph.

Enter NERISSA, dressed like a lawyer’s clerk

DUKE Came you from Padua, from Bellario?

NERISSA From both, my lord. Bellario greets your grace.

Presenting a letter

BASSANIO Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?

SHYLOCK To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there.

GRATIANO Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,

Thou makest thy knife keen; but no metal can,

No, not the hangman’s axe, bear half the keenness

Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee?

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