The fool hath planted in his memory
An army of good words; And I do know
A many fools, that ftand in better place,
Garnish'd like him, that for a trickfy word
Defy the matter. How cheer ft thou, Jeffica?
And now, good fweet, fay thy opinion,
How doft thou like the lord Baffanio's wife?
Jef. Paft all expreffing: It is very meet,
The lord Baffanio 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, it
Is reafon he fhould never come to heaven.
Why, if two gods should play fome heavenly match,
And on the wager lay too earthly women,
And Portia one, there must be fomething else
Pawn'd with the other; for the poor rude world
Hath not her fellow.
Even fuch a husband
Haft thou of me, as she is for a wife.
Jef. Nay, but afk my opinion too of that.
Lor. I will anon; firft, let us go to dinner.
Jef. Nay, let me praise you, while I have a stomach.
Lor. No, pray thee, let it ferve for table-talk;
Then, how foe'er thou speak'ft, 'mong other things
I shall digeft it.
Well, I'll fet you forth.
Venice. A Court of Juftice.
Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes; ANTONIO, BASSANIO, GRATIANO, SALARINO, SALANIO, and others.
Duke. What, is Antonio here?
Ant. Ready, fo please your grace.
Duke. I am forry for thee; thou art come to answer A ftony adversary, an inhuman wretch
Uncapable of pity, void and empty
Your grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify
His rigorous courfe; but fince 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 quietnefs of fpirit,
The very tyranny and rage of his.
Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the court.
Salan. He's ready at the door: he comes, my lord.
Duke. Make room, and let him ftand before our face.Shylock, the world'thinks, and I think fo too, That thou but lead'ft this fashion of thy malice To the last hour of act; and then, 'tis thought,
Thou'lt fhow thy mercy, and remorse, more strange
Than is thy ftrange apparent cruelty:
And, where thou now exact'ft the penalty,
(Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh,)
Thou wilt not only lose the forfeiture,
But touch'd with human gentleness and love,
Forgive a moiety of the principal;
Glancing an eye of pity on his loffes,
That have of late fo huddled on his back
Enough to press a royal merchant down,
And pluck commiseration of his state
From braffy bofoms, and rough hearts of flint,
From tubborn Turks, and Tartars, never train'd
To offices of tender courtesy.
We all expect a gentle answer, Jew.
Shy. I have poffefs'd your grace of what I purpose; And by our holy Sabbath have I fworn,
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, fay, it is my humour? Is it answer'd ?
What if my house be troubled with a rat,
And I be pleas'd 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 bag pipe fings i' the nose,
Cannot contain their urine; For affection,
Mistress of paffion, fways it to the mood
Of what it likes, or loaths: 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 fwollen bag-pipe; but of force
Muft yield to fuch inevitable shame,
As to offend, himself being offended;
So can I give no reason, nor I will not,
More than a lodg'd hate, and a certain loathing,
I bear Antonio, that I follow thus
A lofing fuit against him. Are you
anfwer'd?
Baff. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man,
To excuse the current of thy cruelty.
Shy. I am not bound to please thee with my answer.
Baff. Do all men kill the things they do not love?
Shy. Hates any man the thing he would not kill?
Baff. Every offence is not a hate at first.
Shy. What, would'st thou have a serpent fting thee twice? Ant. I pray you, think you question with the Jew: You may as well go ftand 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
Το wag their high tops, and to make no noise,
When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven;
You may as well do any thing most hard,
As feek to foften that (than which what's harder?)
His Jewish heart :-Therefore, I do beseech you,
Make no more offers, use no further means,
But, with all brief and plain conveniency,
Let me have judgement, and the Jew his will.
Baff. For thy three thousand ducats here is fix.
Shy. If every ducat in fix thousand ducats
Were in fix parts, and every part a ducat,
I would not draw them, I would have my bond.
F
Duke. How shalt thou hope for mercy, rend'ring none?
Shy. What judgement shall I dread, doing no wrong?
You have among you many a purchas'd flave,
Which, like your affes, and your dogs, and mules,
You ufe in abject and in slavish parts,
Because you bought them :-Shall I fay to you,
Let them be free, marry them to your heirs?
Why sweat they under burdens ? let their beds
Be made as foft as yours, and let their palates
Be feafon'd with fuch viands? You will anfwer,
The flaves are ours :-So do I answer you :
The pound of flesh, which I demand of him,
Is dearly bought, is mine, and I will have it :
If you deny me, fie upon your law!
There is no force in the decrees of Venice:
I ftand for judgement: answer; fhall I have it?
Duke. Upon my power, I may dismiss this court,
Unlefs Bellario, a learned doctor,
Whom I have fent for to determine this,
My lord, here stays without
A messenger with letters from the doctor,
New come from Padua.
Duke. Bring us the letters; Call the meffenger.
Baff. Good cheer, Antonio! What, man? courage yet! The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all, Ere thou fhalt lofe for me one drop of blood.
Ant. I am a tainted wether of the flock, Meeteft for death; the weakest kind of fruit Drops earliest to the ground, and fo let me : You cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio, Than to live ftill, and write mine epitaph.
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