The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare (readnow .TXT) 📖

/> Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew,
We freely cope your courteous pains withal.

ANTONIO.
And stand indebted, over and above,
In love and service to you evermore.

PORTIA.
He is well paid that is well satisfied;
And I, delivering you, am satisfied,
And therein do account myself well paid:
My mind was never yet more mercenary.
I pray you, know me when we meet again:
I wish you well, and so I take my leave.

BASSANIO.
Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further;
Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute,
Not as fee. Grant me two things, I pray you,
Not to deny me, and to pardon me.

PORTIA.
You press me far, and therefore I will yield.

[To ANTONIO]
Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for your sake.

[To BASSANIO]
And, for your love, I'll take this ring from you.
Do not draw back your hand; I'll take no more;
And you in love shall not deny me this.

BASSANIO.
This ring, good sir? alas, it is a trifle;
I will not shame myself to give you this.

PORTIA.
I will have nothing else but only this;
And now, methinks, I have a mind to it.

BASSANIO.
There's more depends on this than on the value.
The dearest ring in Venice will I give you,
And find it out by proclamation:
Only for this, I pray you, pardon me.

PORTIA.
I see, sir, you are liberal in offers;
You taught me first to beg, and now methinks
You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd.

BASSANIO.
Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife;
And, when she put it on, she made me vow
That I should neither sell, nor give, nor lose it.

PORTIA.
That 'scuse serves many men to save their gifts.
And if your wife be not a mad-woman,
And know how well I have deserv'd this ring,
She would not hold out enemy for ever
For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you!

[Exeunt PORTIA and NERISSA.]

ANTONIO.
My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring:
Let his deservings, and my love withal,
Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandment.

BASSANIO.
Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him;
Give him the ring, and bring him, if thou canst,
Unto Antonio's house. Away! make haste.

[Exit GRATIANO.]

Come, you and I will thither presently;
And in the morning early will we both
Fly toward Belmont. Come, Antonio.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE II. The same. A street

[Enter PORTIA and NERISSA.]

PORTIA.
Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this deed,
And let him sign it; we'll away tonight,
And be a day before our husbands home.
This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo.

[Enter GRATIANO.]

GRATIANO.
Fair sir, you are well o'erta'en.
My Lord Bassanio, upon more advice,
Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat
Your company at dinner.

PORTIA.
That cannot be:
His ring I do accept most thankfully;
And so, I pray you, tell him: furthermore,
I pray you show my youth old Shylock's house.

GRATIANO.
That will I do.

NERISSA.
Sir, I would speak with you.
[Aside to PORTIA.]
I'll see if I can get my husband's ring,
Which I did make him swear to keep for ever.

PORTIA.[To NERISSA]
Thou Mayst, I warrant. We shall have old swearing
That they did give the rings away to men;
But we'll outface them, and outswear them too.
Away! make haste: thou know'st where I will tarry.

NERISSA.
Come, good sir, will you show me to this house?

[Exeunt.]


ACT V.

SCENE I. Belmont. The avenue to PORTIA's house.

[Enter LORENZO and JESSICA.]

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

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

LORENZO.
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.

JESSICA.
In such a night
Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs
That did renew old AEson.

LORENZO.
In such a night
Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew,
And with an unthrift love did run from Venice
As far as Belmont.

JESSICA.
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.

LORENZO.
In such a night
Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,
Slander her love, and he forgave it her.

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

[Enter STEPHANO.]

LORENZO.
Who comes so fast in silence of the night?

STEPHANO.
A friend.

LORENZO.
A friend! What friend? Your name, I pray you, friend?

STEPHANO.
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.

LORENZO.
Who comes with her?

STEPHANO.
None but a holy hermit and her maid.
I pray you, is my master yet return'd?

LORENZO.
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.]

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

LORENZO.
Who calls?

LAUNCELOT.
Sola! Did you see Master Lorenzo? Master Lorenzo! Sola, sola!

LORENZO.
Leave holloaing, man. Here!

LAUNCELOT.
Sola! Where? where?

LORENZO.
Here!

LAUNCELOT.
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]

LORENZO.
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.

[Exit STEPHANO.]

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 patines 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.

[Music.]

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

LORENZO.
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
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.]

PORTIA.
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.

NERISSA.
When the moon shone, we did not see the candle.

PORTIA.
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!

NERISSA.
It is your music, madam, of the house.

PORTIA.
Nothing is good, I see, without respect:
Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day.

NERISSA.
Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.

PORTIA.
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!
Peace, ho! The moon sleeps with Endymion,
And would not be awak'd!

[Music ceases.]

LORENZO.
That is the voice,
Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia.

PORTIA.
He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo,
By the bad voice.

LORENZO. Dear lady, welcome home.

PORTIA.
We have been praying for our husbands' welfare,
Which speed, we hope, the better for our words.
Are they return'd?

LORENZO.
Madam, they are not yet;
But there is come a messenger before,
To signify their coming.

PORTIA.
Go in, Nerissa:
Give order to my servants that they take
No note at all of our being absent hence;
Nor you, Lorenzo; Jessica, nor you.

[A tucket sounds.]

LORENZO.
Your husband is at hand; I hear his trumpet.
We are no tell-tales, madam, fear you not.

PORTIA.
This night methinks is but the daylight sick;
It looks a little paler; 'tis a day
Such as the day is when the sun is hid.

[Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and their Followers.]

BASSANIO.
We should hold day with the Antipodes,
If you would walk in absence of the sun.

PORTIA.
Let me give light, but let me not be light,
For a light wife doth make a heavy husband,
And never be Bassanio so for me:
But God sort all! You are welcome home, my lord.

BASSANIO.
I thank you, madam; give welcome to my friend:
This is the man, this is Antonio,
To whom I am so infinitely bound.

PORTIA.
You should in all sense be much bound to him,
For, as I hear, he was much bound for you.

ANTONIO.
No more than I am well acquitted of.

PORTIA.
Sir, you are very welcome to our house.
It must appear in other ways than words,
Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.

GRATIANO. [To NERISSA]
By yonder moon I swear you do me wrong;
In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk.
Would he were gelt that had it, for my part,
Since you do take it, love, so much at heart.

PORTIA.
A quarrel, ho, already! What's the matter?

GRATIANO.
About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
That she did give me, whose posy was
For all the world like cutlers' poetry
Upon a knife, 'Love me, and leave me not.'

NERISSA.
What talk you of the posy, or the value?
You swore to me, when I did give it you,
That you would wear it till your hour of death,
And that it should lie with you in your grave;