ACT II SCENE I Belmont. A room in PORTIA'S house. [Flourish of cornets. Enter the PRINCE OF MOROCCO and his train; PORTIA, NERISSA, and others attending] MOROCCO Mislike me not for my complexion, The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun, To whom I am a neighbour and near bred. Bring me the fairest creature northward born, Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles, And let us make incision for your love, To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine. I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine Hath fear'd the valiant: by my love I swear The best-regarded virgins of our clime Have loved it too: I would not change this hue, Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen. PORTIA In terms of choice I am not solely led By nice direction of a maiden's eyes; Besides, the lottery of my destiny Bars me the right of voluntary choosing: But if my father had not scanted me And hedged me by his wit, to yield myself His wife who wins me by that means I told you, Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair As any comer I have look'd on yet For my affection. MOROCCO Even for that I thank you: Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets To try my fortune. By this scimitar That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, I would outstare the sternest eyes that look, Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth, Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear, Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey, To win thee, lady. But, alas the while! If Hercules and Lichas play at dice Which is the better man, the greater throw May turn by fortune from the weaker hand: So is Alcides beaten by his page; And so may I, blind fortune leading me, Miss that which one unworthier may attain, And die with grieving. PORTIA You must take your chance, And either not attempt to choose at all Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong Never to speak to lady afterward In way of marriage: therefore be advised. MOROCCO Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my chance. PORTIA First, forward to the temple: after dinner Your hazard shall be made. MOROCCO Good fortune then! To make me blest or cursed'st among men. [Cornets, and exeunt] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE ACT II SCENE II Venice. A street. [Enter LAUNCELOT] LAUNCELOT Certainly my conscience will serve me to run from this Jew my master. The fiend is at mine elbow and tempts me saying to me 'Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot,' or 'good Gobbo,' or good Launcelot Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away. My conscience says 'No; take heed,' honest Launcelot; take heed, honest Gobbo, or, as aforesaid, 'honest Launcelot Gobbo; do not run; scorn running with thy heels.' Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack: 'Via!' says the fiend; 'away!' says the fiend; 'for the heavens, rouse up a brave mind,' says the fiend, 'and run.' Well, my conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, says very wisely to me 'My honest friend Launcelot, being an honest man's son,' or rather an honest woman's son; for, indeed, my father did something smack, something grow to, he had a kind of taste; well, my conscience says 'Launcelot, budge not.' 'Budge,' says the fiend. 'Budge not,' says my conscience. 'Conscience,' say I, 'you counsel well;' ' Fiend,' say I, 'you counsel well:' to be ruled by my conscience, I should stay with the Jew my master, who, God bless the mark, is a kind of devil; and, to run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the devil himself. Certainly the Jew is the very devil incarnal; and, in my conscience, my conscience is but a kind of hard conscience, to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The fiend gives the more friendly counsel: I will run, fiend; my heels are at your command; I will run. [Enter Old GOBBO, with a basket] GOBBO Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew's? LAUNCELOT [Aside] O heavens, this is my true-begotten father! who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel blind, knows me not: I will try confusions with him. GOBBO Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew's? LAUNCELOT Turn up on your right hand at the next turning, but, at the next turning of all, on your left; marry, at the very next turning, turn of no hand, but turn down indirectly to the Jew's house. GOBBO By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit. Can you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, dwell with him or no? LAUNCELOT Talk you of young Master Launcelot? [Aside] Mark me now; now will I raise the waters. Talk you of young Master Launcelot? GOBBO No master, sir, but a poor man's son: his father, though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man and, God be thanked, well to live. LAUNCELOT Well, let his father be what a' will, we talk of young Master Launcelot. GOBBO Your worship's friend and Launcelot, sir. LAUNCELOT But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you, talk you of young Master Launcelot? GOBBO Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership. LAUNCELOT Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master Launcelot, father; for the young gentleman, according to Fates and Destinies and such odd sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of learning, is indeed deceased, or, as you would say in plain terms, gone to heaven. GOBBO Marry, God forbid! the boy was the very staff of my age, my very prop. LAUNCELOT Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or a prop? Do you know me, father? GOBBO Alack the day, I know you not, young gentleman: but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy, God rest his soul, alive or dead? LAUNCELOT Do you not know me, father? GOBBO Alack, sir, I am sand-blind; I know you not. LAUNCELOT Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might fail of the knowing me: it is a wise father that knows his own child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son: give me your blessing: truth will come to light; murder cannot be hid long; a man's son may, but at the length truth will out. GOBBO Pray you, sir, stand up: I am sure you are not Launcelot, my boy. LAUNCELOT Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but give me your blessing: I am Launcelot, your boy that was, your son that is, your child that shall be. GOBBO I cannot think you are my son. LAUNCELOT I know not what I shall think of that: but I am Launcelot, the Jew's man, and I am sure Margery your wife is my mother. GOBBO Her name is Margery, indeed: I'll be sworn, if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood. Lord worshipped might he be! what a beard hast thou got! thou hast got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my fill-horse has on his tail. LAUNCELOT It should seem, then, that Dobbin's tail grows backward: I am sure he had more hair of his tail than I have of my face when I last saw him. GOBBO Lord, how art thou changed! How dost thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a present. How 'gree you now? LAUNCELOT Well, well: but, for mine own part, as I have set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest till I have run some ground. My master's a very Jew: give him a present! give him a halter: I am famished in his service; you may tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come: give me your present to one Master Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare new liveries: if I serve not him, I will run as far as God has any ground. O rare fortune! here comes the man: to him, father; for I am a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer. [Enter BASSANIO, with LEONARDO and other followers] BASSANIO You may do so; but let it be so hasted that supper be ready at the farthest by five of the clock. See these letters delivered; put the liveries to making, and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging. [Exit a Servant] LAUNCELOT To him, father. GOBBO God bless your worship! BASSANIO Gramercy! wouldst thou aught with me? GOBBO Here's my son, sir, a poor boy,-- LAUNCELOT Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man; that would, sir, as my father shall specify-- GOBBO He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to serve-- LAUNCELOT Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, and have a desire, as my father shall specify-- GOBBO His master and he, saving your worship's reverence, are scarce cater-cousins-- LAUNCELOT To be brief, the very truth is that the Jew, having done me wrong, doth cause me, as my father, being, I hope, an old man, shall frutify unto you-- GOBBO I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow upon your worship, and my suit is-- LAUNCELOT In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself, as your worship shall know by this honest old man; and, though I say it, though old man, yet poor man, my father. BASSANIO One speak for both. What would you? LAUNCELOT Serve you, sir. GOBBO That is the very defect of the matter, sir. BASSANIO I know thee well; thou hast obtain'd thy suit: Shylock thy master spoke with me this day, And hath preferr'd thee, if it be preferment To leave a rich Jew's service, to become The follower of so poor a gentleman. LAUNCELOT The old proverb is very well parted between my master Shylock and you, sir: you have the grace of God, sir, and he hath enough. BASSANIO Thou speak'st it well. Go, father, with thy son. Take leave of thy old master and inquire My lodging out. Give him a livery More guarded than his fellows': see it done. LAUNCELOT Father, in. I cannot get a service, no; I have ne'er a tongue in my head. Well, if any man in Italy have a fairer table which doth offer to swear upon a book, I shall have good fortune. Go to, here's a simple line of life: here's a small trifle of wives: alas, fifteen wives is nothing! eleven widows and nine maids is a simple coming-in for one man: and then to 'scape drowning thrice, and to be in peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed; here are simple scapes. Well, if Fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this gear. Father, come; I'll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye. [Exeunt Launcelot and Old Gobbo] BASSANIO 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. LEONARDO My best endeavours shall be done herein. [Enter GRATIANO] GRATIANO Where is your master? LEONARDO Yonder, sir, he walks. [Exit] GRATIANO Signior Bassanio! BASSANIO Gratiano! GRATIANO I have a suit to you. BASSANIO You have obtain'd it. GRATIANO You must not deny me: I must go with you to Belmont. BASSANIO 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 thou art not known, why, there they show Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain To allay with some cold drops of modesty Thy skipping spirit, lest through thy wild behavior I be misconstrued in the place I go to, And lose my hopes. GRATIANO 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 Thus with my hat, and sigh and say 'amen,' Use all the observance of civility, Like one well studied in a sad ostent To please his grandam, never trust me more. BASSANIO Well, we shall see your bearing. GRATIANO Nay, but I bar to-night: you shall not gauge me By what we do to-night. BASSANIO 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. GRATIANO And I must to Lorenzo and the rest: But we will visit you at supper-time. [Exeunt] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE ACT II SCENE III The same. A room in SHYLOCK'S house. [Enter JESSICA and LAUNCELOT] JESSICA 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 shalt 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. LAUNCELOT Adieu! tears exhibit my tongue. Most beautiful pagan, most sweet Jew! if a Christian did not play the knave and get thee, I am much deceived. But, adieu: these foolish drops do something drown my manly spirit: adieu. JESSICA Farewell, good Launcelot. [Exit Launcelot] Alack, what heinous sin is it in me To be ashamed 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] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE ACT II SCENE IV The same. A street. [Enter GRATIANO, LORENZO, SALARINO, and SALANIO] LORENZO Nay, we will slink away in supper-time, Disguise us at my lodging and return, All in an hour. GRATIANO We have not made good preparation. SALARINO We have not spoke us yet of torchbearers. SALANIO 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order'd, And better in my mind not undertook. LORENZO 'Tis now but four o'clock: we have two hours To furnish us. [Enter LAUNCELOT, with a letter] Friend Launcelot, what's the news? LAUNCELOT An it shall please you to break up this, it shall seem to signify. LORENZO I know the hand: in faith, 'tis a fair hand; And whiter than the paper it writ on Is the fair hand that writ. GRATIANO Love-news, in faith. LAUNCELOT By your leave, sir. LORENZO Whither goest thou? LAUNCELOT Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup to-night with my new master the Christian. LORENZO Hold here, take this: tell gentle Jessica I will not fail her; speak it privately. Go, gentlemen, [Exit Launcelot] Will you prepare you for this masque tonight? I am provided of a torch-bearer. SALANIO Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it straight. SALANIO And so will I. LORENZO Meet me and Gratiano At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence. SALARINO 'Tis good we do so. [Exeunt SALARINO and SALANIO] GRATIANO Was not that letter from fair Jessica? LORENZO 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, What page's suit she hath in readiness. If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven, It will be for his gentle daughter's sake: And never dare misfortune cross her foot, Unless she do it under this excuse, That she is issue to a faithless Jew. Come, go with me; peruse this as thou goest: Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. [Exeunt] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE ACT II SCENE V The same. Before SHYLOCK'S house. [Enter SHYLOCK and LAUNCELOT] SHYLOCK Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge, The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio:-- What, Jessica!--thou shalt not gormandise, As thou hast done with me:--What, Jessica!-- And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out;-- Why, Jessica, I say! LAUNCELOT Why, Jessica! SHYLOCK Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call. LAUNCELOT Your worship was wont to tell me that I could do nothing without bidding. [Enter Jessica] JESSICA Call you? what is your will? SHYLOCK I am bid forth to supper, 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. 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. LAUNCELOT I beseech you, sir, go: my young master doth expect your reproach. SHYLOCK So do I his. LAUNCELOT An 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 on Black-Monday last at six o'clock i' the morning, falling out that year on Ash-Wednesday was four year, in the afternoon. SHYLOCK What, are there masques? Hear you me, Jessica: Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum And the vile squealing of the wry-neck'd fife, 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. LAUNCELOT I will go before, sir. Mistress, look out at window, for all this, There will come a Christian boy, will be worth a Jewess' eye. [Exit] SHYLOCK What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha? JESSICA His words were 'Farewell mistress;' nothing else. SHYLOCK The patch is kind enough, 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 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] JESSICA Farewell; and if my fortune be not crost, I have a father, you a daughter, lost. [Exit] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE ACT II SCENE VI The same. [Enter GRATIANO and SALARINO, masqued] GRATIANO This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo Desired us to make stand. SALARINO His hour is almost past. GRATIANO And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, For lovers ever run before the clock. SALARINO O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly To seal love's bonds new-made, than they are wont To keep obliged faith unforfeited! GRATIANO 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. How like a younker or a prodigal The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind! How like the prodigal doth she return, With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails, Lean, rent and beggar'd by the strumpet wind! SALARINO Here comes Lorenzo: more of this hereafter. [Enter LORENZO] LORENZO 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. Approach; Here dwells my father Jew. Ho! who's within? [Enter JESSICA, above, in boy's clothes] JESSICA Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty, Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue. LORENZO Lorenzo, and thy love. JESSICA Lorenzo, certain, and my love indeed, For who love I so much? And now who knows But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours? LORENZO Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art. JESSICA Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains. I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me, For I am much ashamed of my exchange: But love is blind and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit; For if they could, Cupid himself would blush To see me thus transformed to a boy. LORENZO Descend, for you must be my torchbearer. JESSICA What, must I hold a candle to my shames? They in themselves, good-sooth, are too too light. Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love; And I should be obscured. LORENZO So are you, sweet, Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. But come at once; For the close night doth play the runaway, And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast. JESSICA I will make fast the doors, and gild myself With some more ducats, and be with you straight. [Exit above] GRATIANO Now, by my hood, a Gentile and no Jew. LORENZO 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 proved 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. [Exit with Jessica and Salarino] [Enter ANTONIO] ANTONIO Who's there? GRATIANO Signior Antonio! ANTONIO Fie, fie, Gratiano! where are all the rest? 'Tis nine o'clock: our friends all stay for you. No masque to-night: the wind is come about; Bassanio presently will go aboard: I have sent twenty out to seek for you. GRATIANO I am glad on't: I desire no more delight Than to be under sail and gone to-night. [Exeunt]