[_Exit_ LAUNCELOT.

_Bas_. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this; These things being
bought and orderly bestow'd, Return in haste, for I do feast to-night My
best-esteem'd acquaintance: hie thee, go.

_Leo_. My best endeavours shall be done herein.

_Enter_ GRATIANO.

_Gra_. Where is your master?

_Leo_. Yonder, sir, he walks.

[_Exit_ LEONARDO

_Gra_. Signior Bassanio,--

_Bas_. Gratiano!

_Gra_. I have a suit to you.

_Bas_. You have obtained it.

_Gra_. You must not deny me: I must go with you to Belmont.

_Bas_. Why, then you must.--But hear thee, Gratiano;
Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice;
Parts, that become thee happily enough,
And in such eyes as ours appear not faults;
But, where they are not known, why, there they show
Something too liberal:[57]--pray thee take pain
To allay with some cold drops of modesty
Thy skipping spirit; lest, through thy wild behaviour,
I be misconstrued in the place I go to,
And lose my hopes.

_Gra_. Signior Bassanio, hear me:
If I do not put on a sober habit,
Talk with respect, and swear but now and then,
Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely;
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes[58]
Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say amen;
Use all the observance of civility,
Like one well studied in a sad ostent;[59]
To please his grandam,--never trust me more.

_Bas_, Well, we shall see your bearing.[60]

_Gra_. Nay, but I bar to-night; you shall not gage me
By what we do to-night.

_Bas_. No, that were pity;
I would entreat you rather to put on
Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends
That purpose merriment: But fare you well,
I have some business.

_Gra_. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest;
But we will visit you at supper time.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ JESSICA _and_ LAUNCELOT _from_ SHYLOCK'S _house_.

_Jes_. I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so;
Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil,
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness:
But fare thee well: there is a ducat for thee;
And, Launcelot, soon at supper shall thou see
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest:
Give him this letter; do it secretly,
And so farewell; I would not have my father
See me in talk with thee.

_Lau_. Adieu!--Tears exhibit my tongue. Most beautiful
pagan,--most sweet Jew! Adieu! these foolish drops do
somewhat drown my manly spirit: adieu.

[_Exit_.

_Jes_. Farewell, good Launcelot.
Alack, what heinous sin is it in me,
To be asham'd to be my father's child!
But though I am a daughter to his blood,
I am not to his manners: O Lorenzo,
If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife;
Become a Christian, and thy loving wife.

[_Exit into house_.

_Enter_ GRATIANO, LORENZO, SALARINO, _and_ SALANIO.

_Lor_. Nay, we will slink away in supper time;
Disguise us at my lodging, and return
All in an hour.

_Gra_. We have not made good preparation.

_Salar_. We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers.[61]

_Sal_. 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order'd;
And better, in my mind, not undertook.

_Lor_. 'Tis now but four o'clock; we have two hours
To furnish us.--

_Enter_ LAUNCELOT _with a letter_.

Friend Launcelot, what's the news?

_Lau_. An it shall please you to break up this,[62] it shall seem to
signify.

_Lor_. I know the hand: in faith, 'tis a fair hand;
And whiter than the paper it writ on
Is the fair hand that writ.

_Gra_. Love-news, in faith.

_Lau_. By your leave, sir.

_Lor_. Whither goest thou?

_Lau_. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup to-night with my
new master the Christian.

_Lor_. Hold here, take this:--tell gentle Jessica, I will not fail
her;--speak it privately; go.

[_Exit_ LAUNCELOT _into house_.

Gentlemen,
Will you prepare you for this masque to-night?
I am provided of a torch-bearer.

_Salar_. Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it straight.

_Sal_. And so will I.

_Lor_. Meet me and Gratiano
At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence.

_Salar_. 'Tis good we do so.

[_Exeunt_ SALARINO _and_ SALANIO.

_Gra_. Was not that letter from fair Jessica?

_Lor_. I must needs tell thee all: She hath directed
How I shall take her from her father's house;
What gold and jewels she is furnish'd with;
Come, go with me; peruse this as thou goest:
Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ SHYLOCK _and_ LAUNCELOT _from House_.

_Shy_. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge,
The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio:
What, Jessica!--thou shalt not gormandize,
As thou hast done with me;--What, Jessica!--
And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out;--
Why, Jessica, I say!

_Lau_. Why, Jessica!

_Shy_. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call,

_Lau_. Your worship was wont to tell me I could do nothing without
bidding.

_Enter_ JESSICA.

_Jes_. Call you? What is your will?

_Shy_. I am bid forth to supper,[63] Jessica;
There are my keys:--But wherefore should I go?
I am not bid for love: they flatter me:
But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon
The prodigal Christian:[64]--Jessica, my girl,
Look to my house:--I am right loath to go;
There is some ill a brewing towards my rest,
For I did dream of money-bags to night.

_Lau_. I beseech you, sir, go; my young master doth expect your
reproach.

_Shy_. So do I his.

_Lau_. And they have conspired together,--I will not say, you shall see
a masque; but if you do, then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a
bleeding[65] on Black Monday(B) last, at six o'clock i'the morning,
falling out that year on Ash-Wednesday was four year in the afternoon.

_Shy_. What! are there masques? Hear you me, Jessica:
Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum,
And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fife,[66]
Clamber not you up to the casements then,
Nor thrust your head into the public street,
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces:
But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements;
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter
My sober house.--By Jacob's staff I swear,
I have no mind of feasting forth to-night:
But I will go.--Go you before me, sirrah;
Say, I will come.

_Lau_. I will go before, Sir.--
Mistress, look out at window, for all this;
     There will come a Christian by,
     Will be worth a Jewess' eye.[67]

[_Exit_ LAUNCELOT.

_Shy_. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha?

_Jes_. His words were, Farewell, mistress; nothing else.

_Shy_. The patch is kind enough;[68] but a huge feeder,
Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day
More than the wild cat: drones hive not with me,
Therefore I part with him; and part with him
To one that I would have him help to waste
His borrow'd purse.--Well, Jessica, go in;
Perhaps, I will return immediately;
Do as I bid you,
Shut doors after you: Fast bind, fast find;
A proverb never stale in thrifty mind.

[_Exit_.

_Jes_. Farewell; and if my fortune be not crost,
I have a father, you a daughter, lost.

[_Exit into house_.

_Enter_ GRATIANO _and_ SALARINO, _masqued_.

_Gra_. This is the pent-house, under which Lorenzo
Desir'd us to make stand.

_Sal_. His hour is almost past.

_Gra_. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour,
For lovers ever run before the clock.

_Sal_. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly
To seal love's bonds new made, than they are wont
To keep obliged faith unforfeited!

_Gra_. That ever holds: who riseth from a feast,
With that keen appetite that he sits down?
Where is the horse that doth untread again
His tedious measures with the unbated fire
That he did pace them first? All things that are,
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd.

_Enter_ LORENZO.

_Sal_. Here comes Lorenzo.

_Lor_. Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode:
Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait:
When you shall please to play the thieves for wives,
I'll watch as long for you then.--
Here dwells my father Jew:--

    GLEE.[69]

            O happy fair!
        Your eyes are lode-stars, and your tongue sweet air!
        More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear
        When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear![70]

Ho! who's within?

_Enter_ JESSICA, _above_.

_Jes_. Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty,
Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue.

_Lor_. Lorenzo, and thy love.

_Jes_. Lorenzo, certain; and my love, indeed;
For who love I so much? And now who knows
But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours?

_Lor_. Heaven, and thy thoughts, are witness that thou art.

_Jes_. Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains.

_Lor_. Come, come at once;
For the close night doth play the run-away,
And we are staid for at Bassanio's feast.

_Jes_. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself
With some more ducats, and be with you straight.

[_Exit from above_.

_Gra_. Now, by my hood, a Gentile and no Jew.[71]

_Lor_. Beshrew me, but I love her heartily:
For she is wise, if I can judge of her;
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true;
And true she is, as she hath prov'd herself;
And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true,
Shall she be placed in my constant soul.

_Enter JESSICA, below_.

What, art thou come?--On, gentlemen, away;
Our masquing mates by this time for us stay.

[_Exeunt_

_Enter various parties of Maskers, Revellers, &c_.

END OF SECOND ACT.




HISTORICAL NOTES TO ACT SECOND.


(A) Venice occupies 72 islands. There are 306 canals, traversed by
innumerable gondolas. The gondolas introduced in this scene are copied
from paintings of the same date as when the action of the play is
supposed to occur, and are, consequently, rather varied in shape from
those now seen in Venice. Besides the great squares of St. Mark, and the
adjoining Piazetta before the Doge's Palace, the city has numerous
narrow streets, or rather lanes, with small open spaces in front of the
churches, or formed by the termination of several alleys, leading to a
bridge. It is one of these spaces that is represented in the second act.

(B) "Black Monday" is Easter Monday, and was so called on this occasion.
In the 34th of Edward III. (1360), the 14th April, and the morrow after
Easter Day, King Edward, with his host, lay before the City of Paris,
which day was full dark of mist and hail, and so bitter cold that many
men died on their horse's backs with the cold.--_Stowe_.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 43: _Khanzir_, Arab, a hog. A cape on the coast of Syria is
named _Ras el Khanzir;_ i.e., hog's-head.]

[Footnote 44: _--for the heavens_; This expression is simply "a pretty
oath." It occurs in Ben Jonson and Decker.]

[Footnote 45: _--sand-blind, high-gravel blind_,; Having an imperfect
sight, as if there was sand in the eye.--Gravel-blind, a coinage of
Launcelot's, is the exaggeration of _sand-blind_.]

[Footnote 46: _I will try_ conclusions; Experiments.]

[Footnote 47: _--turn down indirectly to the Jew's house_.; This
perplexed direction is given to puzzle the enquirer.]

[Footnote 48: _--now will I raise the waters.; Id est_, make him weep.]

[Footnote 49: --we talk of young master Launcelot. _Gobbo_. Of
Launcelot, an't please your mastership. _Id est, plain_ Launcelot, and
not, as you term him, _master_ Launcelot.]

[Footnote 50: _--phill horse_,; The horse in the shafts of a cart or
waggon. The term is best understood in the Midland Counties.]

[Footnote 51: _--the suit is impertinent_; Launcelot is a blunderer, as
well as one who can _"play upon a word;"_ here he means _pertinent_.]

[Footnote 52: _--a livery more_ guarded; More ornamented.]

[Footnote 53: _--a fairer table_; Table is the palm of the hand.]

[Footnote 54: _--I shall have good fortune_!; The palm which offers to
swear that the owner shall have good fortune, is a fair table to be
proud of.]

[Footnote 55: _--here's a simple line of life_!; In allusion to the
lines on the palm of his hand.]

[Footnote 56: _--in peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed_,; A
cant phrase to signify the danger of marrying.]

[Footnote 57: _--something too_ liberal:--; Gross or coarse.]

[Footnote 58: _--hood mine eyes_; Alluding to the manner of covering a
hawk's eyes.]

[Footnote 59: _--sad ostent;_ Grave appearance--show of staid and
serious behaviour. _Ostent_ is a word very commonly used for _show_
among the old dramatic writers.]

[Footnote 60: _--we shall see your bearing_.; Bearing is
carriage--deportment.]

[Footnote 61: _We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers_.; _Id est_, we
have not yet bespoken the torch-bearers.]

[Footnote 62: _--to break up this,_ To _break up_ was a term in
carving.]

[Footnote 63: _I am bid forth to supper,_; I am invited. To _bid_, in
old language, meant to _pray_.]

[Footnote 64: _to feed upon the prodigal Christian:_ The poet here means
to heighten the malignity of Shylock's character, by making him depart
from his settled resolve, of "neither to eat, drink nor pray with
Christians," for the prosecution of his revenge.]

[Footnote 65: _nose fell a bleeding_; Some superstitious belief was
annexed to the accident of bleeding at the nose.]

[Footnote 66: _wry-neck'd fife,_; The upper part or mouth-piece,
resembling the beak of a bird.]

[Footnote 67: _--worth a Jewess' eye_.; It's worth a Jews' eye is a
proverbial phrase.]

[Footnote 68: _The patch is kind enough;_ Patch is the name of a Fool,
probably in allusion to his _patch'd_ or party colored dress.]

[Footnote 69: Sung by Miss POOLE, Miss LEFFLER, and Mr. WALLWORTH.]

[Footnote 70: The words are from _Midsummer Night's Dream_, Act i.,
Scene 1.]

[Footnote 71: _--a Gentile and no Jew_.; A jest arising from the
ambiguity of _Gentile_, which signifies both a _Heathen_, and one
well-born.]





ACT III.




SCENE I.--SALOON OF THE CASKETS IN PORTIA'S HOUSE AT BELMONT.


_Enter_ NERISSA, _with_ SERVANTS.

_Ner_. The prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath,
And comes to his election presently.

_Flourish of Trumpets. Enter the_ PRINCE OF ARRAGON, PORTIA, _and their
Trains_.

_Por_. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince;
If you choose that wherein I am contain'd,
Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemniz'd;
But if you fail, without more speech, my lord,
You must be gone from hence immediately.

_Arr_. I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things:
First, never to unfold to any one
Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I fail
Of the right casket, never in my life
To woo a maid in way of marriage; lastly,
If I do fail in fortune of my choice,
Immediately to leave you and be gone.

_Por_. To these injunctions every one doth swear
That comes to hazard for my worthless self.

_Arr_. And so have I address'd me:[72] Fortune now
To my heart's hope!--Gold, silver, and base lead.

    'Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.'

What says the golden chest? ha! let me see:

    'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.'

What many men desire.--That many may be meant[73]
By the fool multitude,[74] that choose by show,
Why, then, to thee, thou silver treasure-house;
Tell me once more what title thou dost bear:

    'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves;'

And well said too. For who shall go about
To cozen fortune, and be honourable
Without the stamp of merit!
O, that estates, degrees, and offices,
Were not deriv'd corruptly! and that clear honour
Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer!
How many then should cover that stand bare?
How many be commanded that command?
And how much honour
Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times,
To be new varnish'd? Well, but to my choice:

    'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves:'

I will assume desert:--Give me a key for this,
And instantly unlock my fortunes here.

_Por_. Too long a pause for that which you find there.

_Arr_. What's here: the portrait of a blinking idiot,
Presenting me a schedule? I will read it.

        Some there be that shadows kiss;
        Such have but a shadow's bliss:
        There be fools alive, I wis,[75]
        Silver'd o'er; and so was this.'

    Still more fool I shall appear
    By the time I linger here:
    With one fool's head I came to woo,
    But I go away with two.

Sweet, adieu! I'll keep my oath,
Patiently to bear my wroath.[76]

[_Exeunt_ ARRAGON _and Train_.

_Por_. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth.
O these deliberate fools! when they do choose,
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose.

_Ner_. The ancient saying is no heresy;--
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.

_Enter_ BALTHAZAR.

_Ser_. Madam, there is alighted at your gate
A young Venetian, one that comes before
To signify the approaching of his lord:
From whom he bringeth sensible regreets;[77]
To wit, besides commends and courteous breath,
Gifts of rich value; yet I have not seen
So likely an ambassador of love.

_Por_. No more, I pray thee.
Come, come, Nerissa; for I long to see
Quick Cupid's post that comes so mannerly.

_Ner_. Bassanio, lord love, if thy will it be!

[_Exeunt_.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 72: _--so have I address'd me_: To address is to prepare--_id
est_ I have prepared myself by the same ceremonies.]

[Footnote 73: _That many may be meant_; Many modes of speech were
familiar in Shakespeare's age that are now no longer used. "May be
meant," _id est_, meaning by that, &c.]

[Footnote 74: _--the fool multitude_; The foolish multitude.]

[Footnote 75: _--I wis_,; I know.]




SCENE II.--RIALTO BRIDGE (A), AND GRAND CANAL.


_Enter_ SALARINO _and_ SALANIO.

_Salar_. Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail;
With him is Gratiano gone along;
And in their ship, I am sure, Lorenzo is not.

_Sal_. The villain Jew with outcries rais'd the duke;
Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship.

_Salar_. He came too late, the ship was under sail;
But there the duke was given to understand,
That in a gondola were seen together
Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica;
Besides, Antonio certified the duke,
They were not with Bassanio in his ship.

_Sal_. I never heard a passion so confus'd,
So strange, outrageous, and so variable,
As the dog Jew did utter in the streets;
"_My daughter!--O, my ducats!--O, my daughter!
Fled with a Christian!--O, my Christian ducats!--
Justice! the law! my ducats, and my daughter.!"_
Let good Antonio look he keep his day,
Or he shall pay for this.

_Salar_. Marry, well remember'd: I reason'd[78] with a Frenchman
yesterday, who told me that Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wreck'd
on the narrow seas that part the French and English,--the Goodwins, I
think they call the place--a very dangerous flat and fatal, where the
carcases of many a tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossip
report be an honest woman of her word.

_Sal_. I would she were as lying a gossip in that, as ever knapp'd
ginger,[79] or made her neighbours believe she wept for the death of a
third husband: But it is true, that the good Antonio, the honest
Antonio,--O, that I had a title good enough to keep his name company!--

_Salar_. Come, the full stop.

_Sal_. Why, the end is, he hath lost a ship.

_Salar_. I would it might prove the end of his losses!

_Sal_. Let me say amen betimes, lest the devil cross my prayer; for here
he comes in the likeness of a Jew.

_Enter_ SHYLOCK.

_Salar_. How now, Shylock? what news among the merchants?

_Shy_. You knew, none so well, none so well as you, of my daughter's
flight?

_Sal_. That's certain. I, for my part, knew the tailor that made the
wings she flew withal.

_Salar_. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was fledg'd; and
then it is the complexion of them all to leave the dam.

_Shy_. She is damn'd for it.

_Sal_. That's certain, if the devil may be her judge.

_Shy_. My own flesh and blood to rebel!

_Salar_. But tell us, do you hear whether Antonio have had any loss at
sea or no?

_Shy_. There I have another bad match: a bankrupt, a prodigal, who dare
scarce show his head on the Rialto; a beggar, that used to come so smug
upon the mart.--Let him look to his bond: he was wont to call me
usurer;--let him look to his bond: he was wont to lend money for a
Christian courtesy;--let him look to his bond.

_Sal_. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his flesh?
What's that good for?

_Shy_. To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else it will feed my
revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered me half a million; laughed
at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my
bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies: and what's his reason?
I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs,
dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt
with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same
means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian
is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh?
if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not
revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that.
If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? revenge: If a
Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian
example? why, revenge. The villany you teach me I will execute: and it
shall go hard but I will better the instruction.

_Salar_. Here comes another of the tribe; a third cannot be matched,
unless the devil himself turn Jew.

[_Exeunt_ SALANIO, SALARINO, _and Servant_.

_Enter_ TUBAL.

_Shy_. How now, Tubal, what news from Genoa? hast thou found my
daughter?

_Tub_. I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot find her.

_Shy_. Why, there, there, there, there! a diamond gone, cost me two
thousand ducats in Frankfort! The curse never fell upon our nation till
now; I never felt it till now:--two thousand ducats in that; and other
precious, precious jewels.--I would my daughter were dead at my foot,
and the jewels in her ear! 'would she were hears'd at my foot, and the
ducats in her coffin! No news of them?--Why, so:--and I know not what's
spent in the search: Why, thou loss upon loss! the thief gone with so
much, and so much to find the thief; and no satisfaction, no revenge:
nor no ill luck stirring but what lights o' my shoulders; no sighs but
o' my breathing; no tears but o' my shedding.

_Tub_. Yes, other men have ill luck, too. Antonio, as I heard in
Genoa,--

_Shy_. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck?

_Tub_. Hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis.

_Shy_. I thank God, I thank God:--Is it true? is it true?

_Tub_. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wreck.

_Shy_. I thank thee, good Tubal;--Good news, good news: ha! ha!--Where?
in Genoa?

_Tub_. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, one night, fourscore
ducats!

_Shy_. Thou stick'st a dagger in me:--I shall never see my gold again:
Fourscore ducats at a sitting! fourscore ducats!

_Tub_. There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my company to Venice,
that swear he cannot choose but break.

_Shy_. I am very glad of it: I'll plague him; I'll torture him; I am
glad of it.

_Tub_. One of them showed me a ring, that he had of your daughter for a
monkey.

_Shy_. Out upon her! Thou torturest me, Tubal: it was my turquoise;[80]
I had it of Leah, when I was a bachelor: I would not have given it for a
wilderness of monkeys.

_Tub_. But Antonio is certainly undone.

_Shy_. Nay, that's true, that's very true: Go, Tubal, fee me an officer,
bespeak him a fortnight before: I will have the heart of him, if he
forfeit; for were he out of Venice, I can make what merchandize I will.
Go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue: go, good Tubal; at our
synagogue, Tubal.

[_Exeunt_.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 76: _--to bear my wroath_.; _Misfortune_.]

[Footnote 77: _--regreets; i.s_., salutations.]

[Footnote 78: _I reason'd; Id est_, I conversed.]

[Footnote 79: _--knapp'd ginger,_; To knap is to break short. The word
occurs in the common prayer--"_He knappeth the spear in sunder_."]

[Footnote 80: _turquoise_; A precious stone found in the veins of the
mountains on the confines of Persia to the east, subject to the Tartars.
Many superstitious qualities were imputed to it, all of which were
either monitory or preservative to the wearer.]




SCENE III.--SALOON OF THE CASKETS, IN PORTIA'S HOUSE, AT BELMONT.



BASSANIO, PORTIA, GRATIANO, NERISSA, _and Attendants_.

_Por_. I pray you, tarry; pause a day or two,
Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong
I lose your company; I could teach you
How to choose right, but then I am forsworn;
So will I never be: so may you miss me;
But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin,
That I had been forsworn.

_Bas_. Let me choose;
For, as I am, I live upon the rack.
Come, let me to my fortune and the caskets.

_Por_. Away then: I am lock'd in one of them;
If you do love me, you will find me out.
Let music sound, while he doth make his choice:
Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end,
Fading in music.(B)--That the comparison
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream
And wat'ry death-bed for him.

[_Music, whilst_ BASSANIO _comments on the Caskets to himself_.

    SONG.[81]

        1. Tell me where is fancy bred.
           Or in the heart, or in the head?
           How begot, how nourished
               Reply, reply.

    2. It is engender'd in the eyes,
       With gazing fed; and fancy dies
       In the cradle where it lies:
         Let us all ring fancy's knell;
       I'll begin it.--Ding, dong, bell.
    _All_. Ding, dong, bell.

[_Exeunt all but_ PORTIA _and_ BASSANIO.

_Bas_. So may the outward shows be least themselves;[82]
The world is still deceiv'd with ornament.
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,
But, being season'd with a gracious voice,[83]
Obscures the show of evil? In religion,
What damned error, but some sober brow
Will bless it and approve it[84] with a text,
Hiding the grossness with lair ornament?
There is no vice so simple, but assumes
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts.
Thus ornament is but the guiled[85] shore
To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf
Veiling an Indian beauty. Therefore, thou gaudy gold,
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee:
Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge
'Tween man and man. But thou, thou meagre lead,
Which rather threat'nest than dost promise aught,
Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence,
And here choose I. Joy be the consequence!

_Por_. How all the other passions fleet to air!
O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstacy,
I feel too much thy blessing, make it less,
For fear I surfeit!

_Bas_. What find I here!

[_Opening the leaden casket_.

Fair Portia's counterfeit?[86]--Here's the scroll,
The continent and summary of my fortune.

    'You that choose not by the view,
    Chance as felt, and choose as true!
    Since this fortune falls to you,
    Be content, and seek no new.
    If you be well pleas'd with this,
    And hold your fortune for your bliss.
    Turn you where your lady is,
    And claim her with a loving kiss.'

A gentle scroll.--Fair lady, by your leave,
I come by note, to give and to receive.
Yet doubtful whether what I see be true,
Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you.

_Por_. You see, my lord Bassanio, where I stand,
Such as I am: though, for myself alone,
I would not be ambitious in my wish,
To wish myself much better; yet, for you,
I would be trebled twenty times myself.
But now I was the lord
Of this fair mansion, master of my servants,
Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now,
This house, these servants, and this same myself.
Are yours, my lord,--I give them with this ring;
Which, when you part from, lose, or give away,
Let it presage the ruin of your love,
And be my vantage to exclaim on you.

_Bas_. Madam, you have bereft me of all words;
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins:
But when this ring
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence;
O, then be bold to say, Bassanio's dead.

_Ner_. My lord and lady, it is now our time,
That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper,
To cry good joy; God joy, my lord and lady!

_Gra_. My lord Bassanio, and my gentle lady,
I wish you all the joy that you can wish;
For I am sure you can wish none from me:
And, when your honours mean to solemnize
The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you
Even at that time I may be married too.

_Bas_. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.

_Gra_. I thank your lordship; you have got me one.
My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours:
You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid;
You lov'd, I lov'd; for intermission[87]
No more pertains to me, my lord, than you.
Your fortune stood upon the caskets there;
And so did mine too, as the matter falls:
For wooing here, until my roof was dry
With oaths of love, at last,--if promise last,--
I got a promise of this fair one here,
To have her love, provided that your fortune
Achiev'd her mistress.

_Por_. Is this true, Nerissa?

_Ner_. Madam, it is, so you stand pleas'd withal.

_Bas_. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith?

_Gra_. Yes, faith, my lord.

_Bas_. Our feast shall be much honour'd in your marriage.

_Gra_. But who comes here? Lorenzo, and his infidel?
What, and my old Venetian friend, Solanio.

_Enter_ LORENZO, JESSICA, _and_ SALANIO.

_Bas_. Lorenzo, and Solanio, welcome hither;
If that the youth of my new interest here
Have power to bid you welcome:--By your leave,
I bid my very friends and countrymen,
Sweet Portia, welcome.

_Por_. So do I, my lord;
They are entirely welcome.

_Lor_. I thank your honour:--For my part, my lord,
My purpose was not to have seen you here;
But meeting with Solanio by the way,
He did entreat me, past all saying nay,
To come with him along.

_Sal_. I did, my lord,
And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio
Commends him to you.

[_Gives_ BASSANIO _a letter_.

_Bas_. Ere I ope this letter,
I pray you tell me how my good friend doth.

_Sal_. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind:
Nor well, unless in mind: his letter there
Will show you his estate.

_Gra_. Nerissa, cheer yon stranger; bid her welcome.
Your hand, Solanio. What's the news from Venice?
How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio?
I know he will be glad of our success;
We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece.

_Sal_. 'Would you had won the fleece that he hath lost!

_Por_. There are some shrewd contents in yon same paper,
That steal the colour from Bassanio's cheek;
Some dear friend dead; else nothing in the world
Could turn so much the constitution
Of any constant man.[88] What, worse and worse?--
With leave, Bassanio; I am half yourself,
And I must freely have the half of any thing
That this same paper brings you.

_Bas_. O sweet Portia,
Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words
That ever blotted paper! Gentle lady,
When I did first impart my love to you,
I freely told you, all the wealth I had
Ran in my veins,--I was a gentleman:
And then I told you true: and yet, dear lady,
Rating myself at nothing, you shall see
How much I was a braggart: When I told you
My state was nothing, I should then have told you
That I was worse than nothing; for, indeed,
I have engag'd myself to a dear friend,
Engag'd my friend to his mere enemy,
To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady;
The paper as the body of my friend,
And every word in it a gaping wound,
Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Solanio?
Have all his ventures fail'd? What, not one hit?
From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England,
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India?
And not one vessel 'scape the dreadful touch
Of merchant-marring rocks?

_Sal_. Not one, my lord.
Besides, it should appear, that if he had
The present money to discharge the Jew,
He would not take it: Never did I know
A creature that did bear the shape of man,
So keen and greedy to confound a man
He plies the duke at morning, and at night;
And doth impeach the freedom of the state
If they deny him justice: twenty merchants,
The duke himself, and the magnificoes
Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him;
But none can drive him from the envious plea
Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond.

_Por_. Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble?

_Bas_. 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.

_Por_. What sum owes he the Jew?

_Bas_. For me, three thousand ducats.

_Por_. 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 stay 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, mean time,
Will live as maids and widows. Come, away;
For you shall hence, upon my wedding-day:
But let me hear the letter of your friend.

_Bas. (reads.)_

'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 cleared between
you and me, 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.'

_Por_. O love, despatch all business, and be gone.

_Bas_. 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_.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 81: Sung by Miss POOLE, and Chorus of Ladies.]

[Footnote 82: _So may the outward shows be least themselves_; Bassanio
begins abruptly; the first part of the argument having passed in his
mind while the music was proceeding.]

[Footnote 83: _--gracious voice_,; Pleasing--winning favour.]

[Footnote 84: _--approve it_; _Id est_, justify it.]

[Footnote 85: _--guiled_; Treacherous--deceitful.]

[Footnote 86: _Fair Portia's counterfeit?_; Counterfeit, which is at
present used only in a bad sense, anciently signified a _likeness_, a
_resemblance_, without comprehending any idea of fraud.]

[Footnote 87: _--intermission_; Intermission is pause--intervening
time--delay.]

[Footnote 88: _--any constant man_.; _Constant_, in the present instance
signifies _grace_.]




SCENE IV.--VENICE. THE COLUMNS OF ST. MARK. (c).


_Enter_ SHYLOCK, SALARINO, ANTONIO, _and_ GAOLER.

_Shy_, Gaoler, look to him. Tell not me of mercy;--
This is the fool that lends out money gratis;--
Gaoler, look to him.

_Ant_. Hear me yet, good Shylock.

_Shy_. 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 had'st 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[89]
To come abroad with him at his request.

_Ant_. I pray thee, hear me speak.

_Shy_. 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-ey'd 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_ SHYLOCK.

_Salar_. It is the most impenetrable cur
That ever kept with men.

_Ant_. Let him alone;
I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers.
He seeks my life.

_Salar_. I am sure the duke
Will never grant this forfeiture to hold.

_Ant_. The duke cannot deny the course of law,[90]
For the commodity that strangers have
With us in Venice, if it be denied,
'Twill much impeach the justice of the state;[91]
Since that the trade and profit of the city
Consisteth of all nations.
Well, gaoler, on:--Pray heaven, Bassanio come
To see me pay his debt, and then I care not.

[_Exeunt_.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 89: _--fond_; _Id est_, foolish.]




SCENE V.--SALOON OF THE CASKETS IN PORTIA'S HOUSE AT BELMONT.


_Enter_ PORTIA, NERISSA, LORENZO, JESSICA, _and_ BALTHAZAR.

_Lor_. Madam, although I speak it in your presence,
You have a noble and a true conceit
Of god-like 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.

_Por_. I never did repent for doing good,
Nor shall not now.
This comes too near the praising of myself;
Therefore, no more of it: hear other things.[92]
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;
There is a monastery two miles off,
And there we will abide. I do desire you
Not to deny this imposition;
To which my love, and some necessity,
Now lays upon you.

_Lor_. Madam, with all my heart,
I shall obey you in all fair commands.

_Por_. 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.

_Lor_. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you!

_Jes_. I wish your ladyship all heart's content.

_Por_. 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;
See thou render this
Into my cousin's hand, doctor Bellario;
And, look, what notes and garments he doth give thee
Bring them, I pray thee, with imagin'd speed[93]
Unto the tranect,[94] to the common ferry
Which trades to Venice:--waste no time in words,
But get thee gone; I shall be there before thee.

_Bal_. Madam, I go with all convenient speed.

[_Exit_.

_Por_. Come on, Nerissa; I have work in hand,
That you yet know not of: we'll see our husbands,
Before they think of us.

_Ner_. Shall they see us?

_Por_. They shall, Nerissa:
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 to-day.

[_Exeunt_.

END OF ACT THIRD.





HISTORICAL NOTES TO ACT THIRD.


(A) The present stone structure superseded an older one of wood. This
celebrated edifice was commenced in 1588.

(B) That the swan uttered musical sounds at the approach of death was
credited by Plato, Chrysippus, Aristotle, Euripides, Philostratus,
Cicero, Seneca, and Martial. Pliny, Aelian, and Athenaeus, among the
ancients, and Sir Thomas More among the moderns, treat this opinion as a
vulgar error. Luther believed in it. See his _Colloquia_, par. 2, p.
125, edit. 1571, 8vo. Our countryman, Bartholomew Glanville, thus
mentions the singing of the swan: "And whan she shal dye and that a
fether is pyght in the brayn, then she syngeth, as Ambrose sayth," _De
propr. rer_. 1. xii., c. 11. Monsieur Morin has written a dissertation
on this subject in vol. v. of the _Mem. de l'acad. det inscript_. There
are likewise some curious remarks on it in Weston's _Specimens of the
conformity of the European languages with the Oriental_, p. 135; in
Seelen _Miscellanea_, tom. 1. 298; and in Pinkertoa's _Recollections of
Paris_, ii. 336.--_Douce's illustrations_.

(C) These two magnificent granite columns, which, adorn the Piazzetta of
St. Mark, on the Molo or Quay, near the Doge's Palace, were among the
trophies brought by Dominico Michieli on his victorious return from
Palestine in 1125; and it is believed that they were plundered from some
island in the Archipelago. A third pillar, which accompanied them, was
sunk while landing. It was long before any engineer could be found
sufficiently enterprising to attempt to rear them, and they were left
neglected on the quay for more than fifty years. In 1180, however,
Nicolo Barattiero[A], a Lombard, undertook the task, and succeeded. Of
the process which he employed, we are uninformed; for Sabellico records
no more than that he took especial pains to keep the ropes continually
wetted, while they were strained by the weight of the huge marbles. The
Government, more in the lavish spirit of Oriental bounty, than in
accordance with the calculating sobriety of European patronage, had
promised to reward the architect by granting whatever boon, consistent
with its honour, he might ask.

It may be doubted whether he quite strictly adhered to the requisite
condition, when he demanded that games of chance, hitherto forbidden
throughout the capital, might be played in the space between the
columns: perhaps with a reservation to himself of any profits accruing
from them. His request was granted, and the disgraceful monopoly became
established; but afterward, in order to render the spot infamous, and to
deter the population from frequenting it, it was made the scene of
capital executions; and the bodies of countless malefactors were thus
gibbeted under the very windows of the palace of the chief magistrate. A
winged lion in bronze, the emblem of St. Mark, was raised on the summit
of one of these columns; and the other was crowned with a statue of St.
Theodore, a yet earlier patron of the city, armed with a lance and
shield, and trampling on a serpent. A blunder, made by the statuary in
this group, has given occasion for a sarcastic comment from Amelot de la
Houssaye. The saint is sculptured with the shield in his right hand, the
lance in his left; a clear proof, says the French writer, of the
unacquaintance of the Venetians with the use of arms; and symbolical
that their great council never undertakes a war of its own accord, nor
for any other object than to obtain a good and secure peace. The
satirist has unintentionally given the republic the highest praise which
could flow from his pen. Happy, indeed, would it have been for mankind,
if Governments had never been actuated by any other policy. De la
Houssaye informs us also that the Venetians exchanged the patronage of
St. Theodore for that of St. Mark, from like pacific motives; because
the first was a soldier and resembled St. George, the tutelary idol of
Genoa.--_Sketches of Venetian History_.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 90: _The Duke cannot deny_, &c.; As the reason here given
seems a little perplex'd, it may be proper to explain it. If, says he,
the duke stop the course of law, it will be attended with this
inconvenience, that stranger merchants, by whom the wealth and power of
this city is supported, will cry out of injustice. For the known stated
law being their guide and security, they will never bear to have the
current of it stopped on any pretence of equity whatsoever.--WARBURTON.]

[Footnote 91: _For the commodity that strangers have With us in Venice,
if it be denied_, &c.; _Id est_, for the denial of those rights to
strangers, which render their abode at Venice so commodious and
agreeable to them, would much impeach the justice of the state. The
consequence would be, that strangers would not reside or carry on
traffick here; and the wealth and strength of the state would be
diminished. In the _Historye of Italye,_ by W. Thomas, quarto, 1567,
there is a section _On the libertee of straungers_, at Venice--MALONE.]

[Footnote 92: _--hear other things_.; _Id est_, she'll say no more in
self-praise, but will refer to a new subject.]

[Footnote 93: _--with imagin'd speed_; _Id est_, with celerity, like
that of imagination.]

[Footnote 94: _Unto the tranect_,; Probably this word means the tow-boat
of the ferry.]

[Footnote A: Doglioni fixes the erection of these columns in 1172,
Sabellico in 1174, the common Venetian Guide-books, a few years later.
The Abbate Garaccioli, writes the name of the engineer Starrattoni.]





ACT IV.




SCENE I.--VENICE. A COURT OF JUSTICE.(A)


_The_ DUKE, (B) _the_ MAGNIFICOES[95] ANTONIO, BASSANIO, GRATIANO,
SALARINO, SALANIO, _and others_.

_Duke_. What is Antonio here?

_Ant_. Ready, so please your grace.

_Duke_, I am sorry for thee: them art come to answer
A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch,
Uncapable of pity, void and empty
From any dram of mercy.

_Ant_. 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,[96] 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.

_Grand Capt_. He's 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,[97] more strange
Than is thy strange apparent cruelty:[98]
And where[99] thou now exact'st 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 losses,
That have of late so huddled on his back,
Enough to press a royal merchant down, (c)
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.

_Shy_. 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:[100] 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;[101]
Some, that are mad if they behold a cat;
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;
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 answer'd?

_Bas_. 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.

_Bas_. Do all men kill the things they do not love?

_Shy_. Hates any man the thing he would not kill?

_Bas_. Every offence is not a hate at first.

_Shy_. What, would'st thou have a serpent sting thee twice?

_Ant_. I pray you, think you question with the Jew.[102]
You may as well go stand upon the beach,
And bid the main flood bate his usual height;
Yon 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 fretted 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 further means,
But, with all brief and plain conveniency,
Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will.

_Bas_, For thy three thousand ducats here are six.

_Shy_. 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 shall thou hope for mercy, rend'ring none?

_Shy_. 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 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.

_Grand Capt_. My lord, here stays without
A messenger, with letters from the doctor,
New come from Padua.[103]

_Duke_. Bring us the letters:--Call the messenger.

_Bas_. Good cheer, Antonio! What, man! courage yet!
The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all,
Ere thou shall lose for me one drop of blood.

_Ant_. 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?

_Ner_. From both, my lord; Bellario greets your grace.

[_Presents a letter_.

_Bas_. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnstly?

_Shy_. To cut the forfeit from that bankrupt there.

_Gra_. Can no prayers pierce thee?

_Shy_. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make.

_Gra_. O, be thou damn'd inexorable dog!
And for thy life let justice be accus'd.
Thou almost makst 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 lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam,
Infus'd itself in thee; for thy desires
Are wolfish, bloody, starv'd, and ravenous.

_Shy_. Till thou can'st 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 tax our court:--
Where is he?

_Ner_. He attendeth here hard by,
To know your answer, whether you'll admit him.

_Duke_. 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.

[_Herald reads_] "Your grace shall understand, that, at the receipt of
your letter, I am very sick; but that in the instant that your messenger
came, in loving visitation was with me a young doctor of Home; his name
is Balthasar: I acquainted him with the cause in controversy between the
Jew and Antonio, the merchant: we turned o'er many books together; he is
furnished with my opinion; which, better'd with his own learning (the
greatness whereof I cannot enough commend), comes with him, at my
importunity, to fill up your grate'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 all better publish his
commendation."