# The Complete Works of William Shakespeare ## Part 125 Book page: https://www.cyberlibrary.org/en/books/the-complete-works-of-william-shakespeare-100/index.md JESSICA. When I was with him, I have heard him swear To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen, That he would rather have Antonio’s flesh Than twenty times the value of the sum That he did owe him. And I know, my lord, If law, authority, and power deny not, It will go hard with poor Antonio. PORTIA. Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble? BASSANIO. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, The best condition’d and unwearied spirit In doing courtesies, and one in whom The ancient Roman honour more appears Than any that draws breath in Italy. PORTIA. What sum owes he the Jew? BASSANIO. For me three thousand ducats. PORTIA. What, no more? Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond. Double six thousand, and then treble that, Before a friend of this description Shall lose a hair through Bassanio’s fault. First go with me to church and call me wife, And then away to Venice to your friend. For never shall you lie by Portia’s side With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold To pay the petty debt twenty times over. When it is paid, bring your true friend along. My maid Nerissa and myself meantime, Will live as maids and widows. Come, away! For you shall hence upon your wedding day. Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer; Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear. But let me hear the letter of your friend. BASSANIO. _Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all miscarried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low, my bond to the Jew is forfeit, and since in paying it, it is impossible I should live, all debts are clear’d between you and I, if I might but see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your pleasure. If your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter._ PORTIA. O love, dispatch all business and be gone! BASSANIO. Since I have your good leave to go away, I will make haste; but, till I come again, No bed shall e’er be guilty of my stay, Nor rest be interposer ’twixt us twain. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. Venice. A street. Enter Shylock, Salarino, Antonio and Gaoler. SHYLOCK. Gaoler, look to him. Tell not me of mercy. This is the fool that lent out money gratis. Gaoler, look to him. ANTONIO. Hear me yet, good Shylock. SHYLOCK. I’ll have my bond, speak not against my bond. I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond. Thou call’dst me dog before thou hadst a cause, But since I am a dog, beware my fangs; The Duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder, Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond To come abroad with him at his request. ANTONIO. I pray thee hear me speak. SHYLOCK. I’ll have my bond. I will not hear thee speak. I’ll have my bond, and therefore speak no more. I’ll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool, To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield To Christian intercessors. Follow not, I’ll have no speaking, I will have my bond. [_Exit._] SALARINO. It is the most impenetrable cur That ever kept with men. ANTONIO. Let him alone. I’ll follow him no more with bootless prayers. He seeks my life, his reason well I know: I oft deliver’d from his forfeitures Many that have at times made moan to me. Therefore he hates me. SALARINO. I am sure the Duke Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. ANTONIO. The Duke cannot deny the course of law, For the commodity that strangers have With us in Venice, if it be denied, ’Twill much impeach the justice of the state, Since that the trade and profit of the city Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go. These griefs and losses have so bated me That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh Tomorrow to my bloody creditor. Well, gaoler, on, pray God Bassanio come To see me pay his debt, and then I care not. [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. Belmont. A room in Portia’s house. Enter Portia, Nerissa, Lorenzo, Jessica and Balthazar. LORENZO. Madam, although I speak it in your presence, You have a noble and a true conceit Of godlike amity, which appears most strongly In bearing thus the absence of your lord. But if you knew to whom you show this honour, How true a gentleman you send relief, How dear a lover of my lord your husband, I know you would be prouder of the work Than customary bounty can enforce you. PORTIA. I never did repent for doing good, Nor shall not now; for in companions That do converse and waste the time together, Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love, There must be needs a like proportion Of lineaments, of manners, and of spirit; Which makes me think that this Antonio, Being the bosom lover of my lord, Must needs be like my lord. If it be so, How little is the cost I have bestowed In purchasing the semblance of my soul From out the state of hellish cruelty! This comes too near the praising of myself; Therefore no more of it. Hear other things. Lorenzo, I commit into your hands The husbandry and manage of my house Until my lord’s return. For mine own part, I have toward heaven breath’d a secret vow To live in prayer and contemplation, Only attended by Nerissa here, Until her husband and my lord’s return. There is a monastery two miles off, And there we will abide. I do desire you Not to deny this imposition, The which my love and some necessity Now lays upon you. LORENZO. Madam, with all my heart I shall obey you in all fair commands. PORTIA. My people do already know my mind, And will acknowledge you and Jessica In place of Lord Bassanio and myself. So fare you well till we shall meet again. LORENZO. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you! JESSICA. I wish your ladyship all heart’s content. PORTIA. I thank you for your wish, and am well pleas’d To wish it back on you. Fare you well, Jessica. [_Exeunt Jessica and Lorenzo._] Now, Balthazar, As I have ever found thee honest-true, So let me find thee still. Take this same letter, And use thou all th’ endeavour of a man In speed to Padua, see thou render this Into my cousin’s hands, Doctor Bellario; And look what notes and garments he doth give thee, Bring them, I pray thee, with imagin’d speed Unto the traject, to the common ferry Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words, But get thee gone. I shall be there before thee. BALTHAZAR. Madam, I go with all convenient speed. [_Exit._] PORTIA. Come on, Nerissa, I have work in hand That you yet know not of; we’ll see our husbands Before they think of us. NERISSA. Shall they see us? PORTIA. They shall, Nerissa, but in such a habit That they shall think we are accomplished With that we lack. I’ll hold thee any wager, When we are both accoutered like young men, I’ll prove the prettier fellow of the two, And wear my dagger with the braver grace, And speak between the change of man and boy With a reed voice; and turn two mincing steps Into a manly stride; and speak of frays Like a fine bragging youth; and tell quaint lies How honourable ladies sought my love, Which I denying, they fell sick and died; I could not do withal. Then I’ll repent, And wish for all that, that I had not kill’d them. And twenty of these puny lies I’ll tell, That men shall swear I have discontinued school About a twelvemonth. I have within my mind A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, Which I will practise. NERISSA. Why, shall we turn to men? PORTIA. Fie, what a question’s that, If thou wert near a lewd interpreter! But come, I’ll tell thee all my whole device When I am in my coach, which stays for us At the park gate; and therefore haste away, For we must measure twenty miles today. [_Exeunt._] SCENE V. The same. A garden. Enter Launcelet and Jessica. LAUNCELET. Yes, truly, for look you, the sins of the father are to be laid upon the children, therefore, I promise you, I fear you. I was always plain with you, and so now I speak my agitation of the matter. Therefore be of good cheer, for truly I think you are damn’d. There is but one hope in it that can do you any good, and that is but a kind of bastard hope neither. JESSICA. And what hope is that, I pray thee? LAUNCELET. Marry, you may partly hope that your father got you not, that you are not the Jew’s daughter. JESSICA. That were a kind of bastard hope indeed; so the sins of my mother should be visited upon me. LAUNCELET. Truly then I fear you are damn’d both by father and mother; thus when I shun Scylla your father, I fall into Charybdis your mother. Well, you are gone both ways. JESSICA. I shall be saved by my husband. He hath made me a Christian. LAUNCELET. Truly the more to blame he, we were Christians enow before, e’en as many as could well live one by another. This making of Christians will raise the price of hogs; if we grow all to be pork-eaters, we shall not shortly have a rasher on the coals for money. Enter Lorenzo. JESSICA. I’ll tell my husband, Launcelet, what you say. Here he comes. LORENZO. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelet, if you thus get my wife into corners! JESSICA. Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo. Launcelet and I are out. He tells me flatly there’s no mercy for me in heaven, because I am a Jew’s daughter; and he says you are no good member of the commonwealth, for in converting Jews to Christians you raise the price of pork. LORENZO. I shall answer that better to the commonwealth than you can the getting up of the negro’s belly! The Moor is with child by you, Launcelet. LAUNCELET. 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. LAUNCELET. That is done, sir, they have all stomachs. LORENZO. Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you! Then bid them prepare dinner. LAUNCELET. That is done too, sir, only “cover” is the word. LORENZO. Will you cover, then, sir? LAUNCELET. 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 thee 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. LAUNCELET. 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 cheer’st 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 merit it, 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 howsome’er thou speak’st, ’mong other things I shall digest it. JESSICA. Well, I’ll set you forth. [_Exeunt._] ACT IV SCENE I. 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. SALARINO. 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 leadest 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 exacts 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 pleas’d to give ten thousand ducats To have it ban’d? 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 lodg’d hate and a certain loathing I bear Antonio, that I follow thus A losing suit against him. Are you answered? 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 answer. 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 moe 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. If every ducat in six thousand ducats 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, rend’ring none? SHYLOCK. What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong? You have among you many a purchas’d 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 burdens? 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 today. SALARINO. My lord, here stays without A messenger with letters from the doctor, New come from Padua. DUKE. Bring us the letters. 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. [_Presents 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 mak’st 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? SHYLOCK. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make. GRATIANO. O, be thou damn’d, inexecrable dog! And for thy life let justice be accus’d; Thou almost mak’st me waver in my faith, To hold opinion with Pythagoras That souls of animals infuse themselves Into the trunks of men. Thy currish spirit Govern’d a wolf who, hang’d for human slaughter, Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, And whilst thou layest in thy unhallowed dam, Infus’d itself in thee; for thy desires Are wolfish, bloody, starv’d and ravenous. SHYLOCK. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond, Thou but offend’st thy lungs to speak so loud. Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall To cureless ruin. I stand here for law. DUKE. This letter from Bellario doth commend A young and learned doctor to our court. Where is he? NERISSA. He attendeth here hard by, To know your answer, whether you’ll admit him. DUKE OF VENICE. With all my heart: some three or four of you Go give him courteous conduct to this place. Meantime, the court shall hear Bellario’s letter. [_Reads._] _Your Grace shall understand that at the receipt of your letter I am very sick, but in the instant that your messenger came, in loving visitation was with me a young doctor of Rome. His name is Balthazar. I acquainted him with the cause in controversy between the Jew and Antonio the merchant. We turn’d o’er many books together. He is furnished with my opinion, which, bettered with his own learning (the greatness whereof I cannot enough commend), comes with him at my importunity to fill up your Grace’s request in my stead. I beseech you let his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a reverend estimation, for I never knew so young a body with so old a head. I leave him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his commendation._ You hear the learn’d Bellario what he writes, And here, I take it, is the doctor come. Enter Portia dressed like a doctor of laws. Give me your hand. Come you from old Bellario? PORTIA. I did, my lord. DUKE. You are welcome. Take your place. Are you acquainted with the difference That holds this present question in the court? PORTIA. I am informed throughly of the cause. Which is the merchant here? And which the Jew? DUKE. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth. PORTIA. Is your name Shylock? SHYLOCK. Shylock is my name. PORTIA. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow, Yet in such rule that the Venetian law Cannot impugn you as you do proceed. [_To Antonio_.] You stand within his danger, do you not? ANTONIO. Ay, so he says. PORTIA. Do you confess the bond? ANTONIO. I do. PORTIA. Then must the Jew be merciful. SHYLOCK. On what compulsion must I? Tell me that. PORTIA. The quality of mercy is not strain’d, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest, It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. ’Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown. His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God’s When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this, That in the course of justice none of us Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy, And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much To mitigate the justice of thy plea, Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice Must needs give sentence ’gainst the merchant there. SHYLOCK. My deeds upon my head! I crave the law, The penalty and forfeit of my bond. PORTIA. Is he not able to discharge the money? BASSANIO. Yes, here I tender it for him in the court, Yea, twice the sum, if that will not suffice, I will be bound to pay it ten times o’er On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart. If this will not suffice, it must appear That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you, Wrest once the law to your authority. To do a great right, do a little wrong, And curb this cruel devil of his will. PORTIA. It must not be, there is no power in Venice Can alter a decree established; ’Twill be recorded for a precedent, And many an error by the same example Will rush into the state. It cannot be. SHYLOCK. A Daniel come to judgment! Yea, a Daniel! O wise young judge, how I do honour thee! PORTIA. I pray you let me look upon the bond. SHYLOCK. Here ’tis, most reverend doctor, here it is. PORTIA. Shylock, there’s thrice thy money offered thee. SHYLOCK. An oath, an oath! I have an oath in heaven. Shall I lay perjury upon my soul? No, not for Venice. PORTIA. Why, this bond is forfeit, And lawfully by this the Jew may claim A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off Nearest the merchant’s heart. Be merciful, Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond. SHYLOCK. When it is paid according to the tenour. It doth appear you are a worthy judge; You know the law; your exposition Hath been most sound. I charge you by the law, Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar, Proceed to judgment. By my soul I swear There is no power in the tongue of man To alter me. I stay here on my bond. ANTONIO. Most heartily I do beseech the court To give the judgment. PORTIA. Why then, thus it is: You must prepare your bosom for his knife. SHYLOCK. O noble judge! O excellent young man! PORTIA. For the intent and purpose of the law Hath full relation to the penalty, Which here appeareth due upon the bond. SHYLOCK. ’Tis very true. O wise and upright judge, How much more elder art thou than thy looks! PORTIA. Therefore lay bare your bosom. SHYLOCK. Ay, his breast So says the bond, doth it not, noble judge? “Nearest his heart”: those are the very words. PORTIA. It is so. Are there balance here to weigh The flesh? SHYLOCK. I have them ready. PORTIA. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge, To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death. SHYLOCK. Is it so nominated in the bond? PORTIA. It is not so express’d, but what of that? ’Twere good you do so much for charity. SHYLOCK. I cannot find it; ’tis not in the bond. PORTIA. You, merchant, have you anything to say?