Anth. This was a venture, Sir, that Jacob ferv'd for; A thing not in his power to bring to pass, But fway'd, and fashion'd, by the hand of heav'n. Or is your gold and filver, ewes and rams? » Anth. Mark you this, Baffanio? The devil can cite fcripture for his purpose. Q, what a goodly outfide's falfehood hath! Shy. Three thousand ducats! 'tis a good round fum. About my monies and my ufances. A cur can lend three thousand ducats? Or, With 'bated breath, and whifp'ring humbleness, Say this, Fair Sir, you fpit on me laft Wednesday, You call'd me dog; and for thefe courtefies Anth. I am as like to call thee fo again, A's As to thy friend, (for when did friendship take Who, if he break, thou may'st with better face Shy. Why, how you ftorm? I would be friends with you, and have your love; Anth. This were kindness. Shy. This kindness will I show; If you repay me not on fuch a day, In fuch a place, fuch fum, or fums, as are Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken In what part of your body it shall please me. Anth. Content, in faith; I'll feal to fuch a bond, And fay, there is much kindness in the Jew. Baff. You fhall not feal to such a bond for me, I'll rather dwell in my neceffity. Anth. Why, fear not, man; I will not forfeit it; Within these two months (that's a month before This bond expires) I do expect return Of thrice three times the value of this bond. Shy. O father Abraham, what these Chriftians are! A pound of man's flesh, taken from a man, As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I fay, And Breed of metal, meaning money at ufury, money that breeds more- -The old editions (two of them) have it, A bribe of barren metal And for my love, I pray you, wrong me not. Anth. Hie thee gentle Jew. This Hebrew will turn Chriftian; he grows kind. ACT II. SCENE I. Belmont. [Exity [Exeunt▸ Enter Morochius, a Tawny-Moor, all in white; and three or four followers accordingly; with Portia, Nerissa, and her train. Flourish cornets. MISLIKE me not for my complexion, Mor. Have lov'd it too: I would not change this hue, Befides, the lottery of my destiny H you; As As any comer I have look'd on yet, For my affection. Mor. Ev'n for that I thank you; Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the cafkets That flew the Sophy and a Perfian prince, And fo may I, blind fortune leading me, Por. You must take your chance, And either not attempt to chufe at all, Or fwear, before chufe, if you chufe you Never to speak to lady afterward In way of marriage; therefore be advis'd. wrong, Mor. Nor will not; therefore bring me to my chance. Por. Firft, forward to the temple; after dinner Your hazard shall be made. Mor. Good fortune then, [Cornets. To make me blefs'd, or curfed'ft among men! [Exeunt, SCENE II. Changes to Venice. Enter Launcelot alone, Laun. Certainly my confcience will ferve me to run from this Jew my mafter. The fiend is at mine elbow, and tempts me, faying to me, Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbe, good Launcelot, or good Gobbo, or good Launcelot Gobbo, ufe your legs, take the ftart, run away. My confcience fays, No; take heed, honeft Launcelot ; take heed, honest Gobbo; or, as aforefaid, honest Launcelot Gobbo, do not run; fcorn running with thy heels. Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack; Via! fays the fiend; Away! fays the fiend; for the heav'ns roufe up a brave mind, fays the fiend, and run. Well, my confcience, hanging about the neck of my heart, fays very wifely to me, My honeft friend Lauricelot, being an honeft man's fon, or rather an honeftwoman's fon (for indeed my father did fome thing fmack, fomething grow to; he had a kind of tafte;) -well, my confcience fays, Budge not; Budge, fays the fiend; Budge not, fays my confcience; Confcience, fay 1, you counfel ill; Fiend, fay I, you counfel ill. To be rul'd by my confcience, I should ftay with the Jew my master, who, God blefs the mark, is a kind of devil; and to run away from the Jew, I fhould be rul❜d by the fiend, who, faving your reverence, is the devil himself. Certainly the Jew is the very devil incarnal; and in my confcience, my confcience is but a kind of hard confcience, to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The fiend gives the more friendly counfel; I will run, fiend, my heels are at your commandment, I will run. Enter old Gobbo, with a basket. Gob. Mafter young man, you, I the way to Mafter Jew's? pray you, which is Laun. O heav'ns, this is my true-begotten father, who being more than fand-blind, high-gravel-blind, knows me not; I will try confufions with him. Gob. Mafter young Gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to Mafter Jew's? Laun. Turn up, on your right-hand at the next turning, but, at the next turning of all, on your left; marry, very next turning turn of no hand, but turn down, indirectly to the Jew's houfe. at the Gub. By God's fonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit; can you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, dwell with him or no? Laun. Talk you of young Mafter Launcelot? (mark me now, now will I raife the waters;) talk you of young Mafter Launcelot? Gob. No, Mater, Sir, but a poor man's fon. His father, though I fay't, is an honeft exceeding poor man, and, God be thanked, well to live. |