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Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it [lost, Raining the tears of lamentation, From what it purpos’d; since, to' wail friends For the remembrance of my father's death. Is not by much so wholesome, profitable, If this thou do deny, let our hands part ; As to rejoice at friends but newly found. Neither entitled in the other's heart, Prin. I understand you not; my griefs are King. If this,, or more than this, I would double. (ear of grief ;deny,
[rest, Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the To flatter up these powers of mine with And by these badges understand the king. The sadden hand of death close up mine eye! For your fair sakes have we neglected time, Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. Play'd foul play with our oaths; your beauty,
Biron. And what to me, my love? and what ladies,
(rank; Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our hu
Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are Even to the opposed end of our intents : You are attaint with faults and perjury;
And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous, - Therefore, if you my favour mean to get,
All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain; But seek the weary beds of people sick.
Dum. But what to me, my love? but what Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forms, to me?
[honesty; Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll Kath. A wife!-A beard, fair health, and To every varied object in his glance: T
With three-fold love I wish you all these three. Which party-coated presence of loose love Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
(and a day Have misbecom'd our oaths and grayities,
Kath. Not so, my lord ;-a twelvemonti Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults, I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers say: Suggested * us to make: Therefore, ladies, Come when the king doth to my lady come, Car love being yours, the error that love makes Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some. Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
Dúm. I'II serve thee true and faithfully till By being once false for ever to be true
[again. To those that make us both, --fair ladies, you:
Kath. Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn And even that falsehood, in itself a sin
Long. What says Maria ? Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace. [love;
At the twelvemonth's end, Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend. Your favours, the ambassadors of love; Long. I'll stay with patience ; bụt the time And, in our maiden council, rated them
[young. At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy,
Mar. The liker you ; few taller "are As bombast, and as lining to the time:
Biron. Studies my lady? mistress look on me, But more devout than this, in our respects,
Behold the window of my heart, mine eye, Have we not been ; and therefore met your. What hitimble suit attends thy answer there; E' In their own fashion, like a merriment. [loves Impose some service on me for thy love.
Dum.Our letters, madam, show'd much more Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Birón, Long. So did our looks. (than jest. Before I saw you: and the world's large tongue
We did not quote them' so. Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks; King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour, Full of comparisons and wounding fouts ; Grant us your loves.
Which you on all estates will execute, A time, methinks, too short. That lie within the mercy of your wit : [brain ; To make a world-without-end bargain in : To weed this wormwood from your fruitful No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur'd much, And, therewithal, to win
me, if you please, Full of dear guiltiness; and, therefore
this,-' Without the which I am not to be won,) [day If for my love (as there is no such cause)
You shall this twelvemonth term from day to You will do aught, this shall you do for me : Visit the speechless sick, and still converse Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed With groaning wretches; and your task shall To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
With all the fierceş endeavour of your wit, [be, Remote from all the pleasures of the world;
To enforce the pained impotent to smile. There stay, until the twelve celestial signs Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat Have brought about their annual reckoning : It cannot be ; it is impossible: (of death? If this austere insociable life
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. (spirit, Change not your offer made in heat of blood; Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin Whose influence is begot of that loose grace, weeds 1,
Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love, A jest's prosperity lies in the ear But that it bear this trial, and last love; of him that hears it, never in the tongue Then, at the expiration of the year,
Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears, Come challange, challenge me by these deserts, Deaf'd with the clamours of their own dear, And, by this virgin palm, now kissing thine,
groans, I will be thine; and, till that instant, shut Will hear your idle scorns, continue then, My woeful self up in a mourning house ; And I will have you, and that fault withal; • Tempted. + Regard. 1 Clothing. Vehement. || Immediate.
But, if they will not, throw away that spirit, The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
[To the King. And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, King. No, madam: we will bring you on When turtles tread, and rooks, and dau's, your way.
[play; And maidens bleach their summer Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old smocks, Jack hath not Jill: these ladies' courtesy The cuckoo then, on every tree, Might well have made our sport a comedy. Mocks married men, for thus sings he, King, Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth
Cuckoo; And then 'twill end.
(and a day. Cuckoo, cuckoo - word of fear, Biron.
That's too long for a play. Unpleasing to a married ear!
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,'. Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take
And milk comes frozen home in pail, leave: I am a votary ; I have vowed to Ja
When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul, quenetta to hold the plough for her sweet love
Then nightly sings the staring owl, three years. But, most esteemed greatness,
To-who; will you hear the dialogue that the two learn
Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note, ed men have compiled, in praise of the owl and the cuckoo? it should have followed in
While greasy Joan doth keel* the pot.
IV. the end of our show.
King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so. When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson's saw, Enter HOLOFERNES, NATHANIEL, MOTA,
And birds sit broorling in the snow,
And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs + hiss in the bowl, spring; the one maintain'd by the owl, the Then nightly sings the staring oul, other by the cuckoo. . Ver, begin.
Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note,
And lady-smocks all silver-white, Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue,
the songs of Apollo. You, that way; we, Do paint the meadows with delight,
+ Wild apples,
In this play, which all the editors have concurred to censure, and some have rejected as unworthy of our poet, it must be confesscd that there are many passages mean, childish, and vulgar; and some which ought not to have been exhibited, as we are told they were, to a maiden queen.
But there are scattered through the whole inany sparks of genius; nor is there any play that has more evident murks of the hand of Shakspeare.-JOHNSON.
MERCHANT OF VENICE.
Persons represented. Duke of Venice.
LAUNCELỘT GOBBO, a cloun, servant to Prince of Morocco,
Shylock. Prince of Arragon, } suitors to Portia.
OLD GOBBO, father to Launcelot.
LEONARDO, servant to Bassanio.
friends to Antonio and Bas- BALTHAZAR, } servants to Portia. GRATIANO,
Portia, a rich heiress. Lorenzo, in love with Jessica.
NERISSA, her waiting-maid. SHYLOCK, a Jew.
Jessica, daughter to Shylock. TÚBAL, & Jew, his friend, Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, Jailer, Servants, and other
Attendants. Scene,-Partly at Venice; and partly at Belmont, the Seat of Portia, on the Continent,
I am to learn ;
ACT I. SCENÉ I. Venice. A Street. Which touching but my gentle vessel's side, Enter Antonio, SALARINO, and SALAN10. Would scatter all her spices on the stream
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks ; Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad; And, in a word, but even now worth this, It wearies me; you say, it weariés you; And now worth nothing? Shall I have the But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, thought What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, To think on this; and shall I lack the thought,
That such a thing, bechanc'd would make me And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, But, tell not me; I know, Antonio (sad ? That I have much ado to know myself. Is sad to think opon his merchandise. (for it,
Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean; Ant. Believe me, no : I thank my fortune There, where your argosies * with portly sail, My ventures are not in one bottom
trusted, Like signiors and rich burghers of the flood, Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate Or, as it were the pageants of the sea, Upon the fortune of this present year: Do overpeer the petty traffickers, :'
Therefore, my merchandise makes me not sad. That cart'sy to them, do them reverence, .Salun. Wby then you are in love. As they fly by them with their woven wings. Ant.
Fie, fie! Salan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture Salan. Not in love neither? Then let's say, The better part of my affections would (forth, you are sad, Be with my hopes abroad. I shonld be still Because you are not merry : and 'twere as easy Plucking the grass, to know wherei sits the For you, to laugh, and leap, and say, you are
, Peering in maps, for ports, and piers, and Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed And every object, that might make me fear Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time: 1 Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt, Some that will evermore peep through their Would make me sad.':
And laugh, like parrots, at a bag piper; [eyes, My wind, cooling my broth, and other of such vinegar aspect, (smile, Would blow me to an ague; when I thought That they'll not show their teeth in way of What harm a wind too great might
do at sea. Thiongh Nestor
swear the jest be laughable. I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO. But I should think of shallows aiid of flats; Salan. Here comes Bassanio, yonr most And see my wealthy Andrew docks in sand, poble kinsman, il Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs, Gratiano, and Lorenzo : Fare you well; To kiss her buriat. Should I go to church, We leave you now with better company. And see the holy edifice of stoney (rocks?
Salar. I would have staid till I bad made yon And not bethink me straight of dangerous * merry,IN!
Ships of large burthen. Lowering. ***
If worthier friends had not prevented me. nothing, more than any man in all Venice:
Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid I take it, your own business calls on you, in two bushels of chaff; you shall seek all And you embrace the occasion
to depart. day ere you find them and when you have Salar. Good-morrow, my good lords. themthey Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we Ant. Well; tell me now, what lady is this laugh? Say, when ?
To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, (same You grow exceeding strange : Must it be so ? That you to-day promis'd to tell me of Salar. We'll make our leisures: 19: attens much I have disabled mine estate,
'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, on yours.
(. Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you haye Than my faint means would grant continuance: found Antonio,
Nor do I now make mgan to be abridg'd We two will leave you ; but, at dinner-time, From such a noble rate, but my chief care I pray you, have'in mind where we must meet. Is, to come fairly off from the great debts, Bass. I'will not fail you.
Wherein my time, something too prodigal, Gra. You look not well, sighior Antonio ;] Hath left me gaged : To you, Antonio, You have too much respect upon the world I owe the most, in money, and in love ; They lose it, that do buy it with much care. And from your love I have a warranty Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd. To unburthen all my płots, and purposes, Ant. I hold the world but as the world, How to get clear of all the debts I owe. Gratiano ;
Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know A stage, where every man must. play a part, And, if it stand, as you yourself still do, And mine a sad one.
Within the eye of honour, be assur’d, Gra,
Let me play the fool: My purse, my person, my extremest means, With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; Lie all unlock'd to your occasions. (one shaft, And let my liver rather heat with wine, Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. shot his fellow of the self-same flight Why should a inan, whose blood is warm The self-same way, with more advised watch, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? (within, To find the other forth ; and by advent'ring Sleep when he wakes and creep into the both, 1" is jaundide
I oft found þoth : urge this childhood proof, By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio, Because what follows is pure innocence. I love thee, and it is my love that speaks I owe you much; and, like a wilful youth, There are a sort of men, whose visages That which I owe is lost: but if you please ! Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond; To shoot another arrow that self way Aná do la wilful sullness entertain,
Which you did shoot he first, I do not doubt, With purpose to be dress'd'in an opinion ; As I will watch the aim, or to find both,Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit; ! . Or bring your latter hazard back again, As who should say, I am Sir Oracle, And thankfully rest debtor for the first.. And, when I ope my lips, tet no dog bark ! i Ant. You know me welt; and herein spend 0, my Antonio, I do know of these;
.but time in That therefore only are reputed wise, To'wind about my love with circumstance; For saying nothing ; who, I am very sure, And, out of doubt, you do me now more If they should speak, would almost damn those. In making question of my uttermost, [wrong,
;"1!1! [thers, fools. Than if you had made waste of all I have: Which, hearing them, would call their bro- Thenido but say to me what I should do, I'll tell thee more of this another time: That in your knowledge may by me be done, But fish not, with this melancholy bait, And I am prestt uinto it: therefore, speak. For this fooi's 'gudgeon, this opinion.es Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left, Come, good Lorenzo : Fare ýe well, a while; And she is fair, and, fairer than that word, I'll end my exhortation after dinner. [time: Of wondrous virtues; sometimes I from her
Lor. Well, we will leave you then tilt dinner- I did receive'fair speechless messages: leyes I must be one of these same dumb wise men, Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalued For Gratiano never lets me speak. 11, (more, To Cato's danghter, Brutus' Portia. i
Gra. Well, keep me company but two years Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ; Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own For the four winds blow in from every coast 7" : tongue !!
* fois l'ii'Renowned suitors :: and ber sunny locks Ant. Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this Hang on her temples like a golden fleece; gear.
1, [commendable Which makes her i seat of Belmont, Colchos' Gra. Thanks, 'i'faith ; for silence is only strand, In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not And many Jasons come in quest of her. vendible..
O my Antonio, bad I but the means ? (Exeunt GRATIANO and LORENZO. To hold a rival place with one of them, Ant. Is that any thing now?
I have a mind presages mé such thrift, Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of That I should questionless: be fortunate.
• Obstinate silence. • Ready. Formerly.
Ant. Thon know'st, that all my fortunes are Ner. Then, is there the county + Palatine. at sea;
Por. He doth nothing but frown; as who Nor bave I money, nor commodity
should say, An if you will not have me, To raise a present sum : therefore go forth, choose: he hears merry tales, and smiles not: Try what my credit can in Venice do ; I fear, he will prove the weeping philosopher That shall be rack’d, even to the uttermost, when he grows old, being so full of unmanTo furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. nerly sadness in his youth. I had rather be Go, presently inquire, and so will I,
married to a death's head with a bone in his Where money is : and I no qnestion make, mouth, than to either of these. God defend To bave it of my trust, or for my sake. me from these two !
[Exeunt. Ner. How say you by the French lord, SCENE II. Belmont. A Room in Portia's Monsieur Le Bon ? House.
Por. God made him, and therefore let him
pass for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin Enter Portia and NERISSA.
to be a mocker; But, he! why, he hath a Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body horse better than the Neapolitan's; a better is a-weary of this great world.
bad habit of frowning than the count Pala. Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your tine : be is every man in no map: if a miseries were in the same abundance as your throstle sing, he falls straight a capering; he good fortunes are: And, yet, for aught I see, will fence with his own shadow : if I should they are as sick, that surfeit with too much, marry him, I should marry twenty husbands : as they that starve with nothing: It is no If he would despise me, I would forgive him ; mean happiness therefore, to be seated in the for if he love me to madness, I shall never mean ; superfluity comes sooner by white requite him. hairs, but competency lives longer.
Ner. What say you then to Faulconbridge,
Por. If to do were as easy as to know for he understands not me, nor I him: hé what were good to do, chapels had been hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian; and churches, and poor men's cottages, princes' you will come into the court and swear, that palaces.' It is a good divine
that follows his I have a poor penny-worth in the English. own instructions : I can easier teach twenty He is a proper man's picture; Bat, alas! what were good to be done, than be one of who can converse wtth a dumb-show? How the twenty to follow mine own teaching. oddly he is suited! I think, he bought his The brain may devise laws for the blood ; doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, but a hot temper Jeaps over a cold decree : his bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour such a hare is madness the youth, to skip o'er every where. the meshes of good counsel the cripple. But Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose his neighbour ? me a husband :-0 me, the word choose! I Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in may neither choose whom I would, nor hinn; for he borrowed a box of the ear of the refuse whom I dislike; so is the will of a Englishman, and swore he would pay him living daughter curb'd by the will of a dead again, when he was able : I think, the Frenchfatber :- Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot man became his surety, and sealed under for choose one, nor refuse none ?
another. Ner. Your father was ever virtuous; and Ner. How like you the young German, holy men, at their death, have good inspira. the duke of Saxony's nephew ? tions ; therefore, the lottery, that he hath Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he devised in these three chests, of gold, silver, is sober; and most vilely in the afternoon, and lead, (whereof who chooses his meaning, when he is druk: when he is best, he is a chooses you,) will, no doubt, never be chosen little worse than a man; and when he is by any rightly, but one who you shall rightly worst, he is little better than a beast : an the love. But what warmth is there in your worst fall that ever fell, I hope, I shall.make affection towards any of these princely syitors shift to go without him. that are already cone?
Ner. If he should offer to choose, and Por. I pray thee, over-name them; and as choose the right casket, you should refuse to thou namest them, I will describe them; and, perform your father's will, if you should according to my description, level at my refuse to accept him. affection.
Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. pray thee, set a deep glass of Rhenish . wine
Por. Ay, that's a colt*, indeed, for he on the contrary casket : for, if the devil be doth nothing but talk of his horse; and he within, and that temptation without, I know makes it a great appropriation to his own he will choose it. I will do any thing, good parts, that he can shoe him bimself: ! Nerissa, ere I will be married to a spunge. am much afraid, my lady his mother played Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having false with a smith.
any of these lords; they have acquainted me • A heady, gay youngster. :