Shakespeare's First Folio
Chapter 157 : Portia. They shall Nerrissa: but in such a habit, That they shall thinke we are accomp

Portia. They shall Nerrissa: but in such a habit, That they shall thinke we are accomplished With that we lacke; Ile hold thee any wager When we are both accoutered like yong men, Ile proue the prettier fellow of the two, And weare my dagger with the brauer grace, And speake betweene the change of man and boy, With a reede voyce, and turne two minsing steps Into a manly stride; and speake of frayes Like a fine bragging youth: and tell quaint lyes How honourable Ladies sought my loue, Which I denying, they fell sicke and died.

I could not doe withall: then Ile repent, And wish for all that, that I had not kil'd them; And twentie of these punie lies Ile tell, That men shall sweare I haue discontinued schoole Aboue a twelue moneth: I haue within my minde A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Iacks, Which I will practise

Nerris. Why, shall wee turne to men?

Portia. Fie, what a questions that?

If thou wert nere a lewd interpreter: But come, Ile tell thee all my whole deuice When I am in my coach, which stayes for vs At the Parke gate; and therefore haste away, For we must measure twentie miles to day.

Exeunt.

Enter Clowne and Iessica.

Clown. Yes truly; for looke you, the sinnes of the Father are to be laid vpon the children, therefore I promise you, I feare you, I was alwaies plaine with you, and so now I speake my agitation of the matter: therfore be of good cheere, for truly I thinke you are d.a.m.n'd, there is but one hope in it that can doe you anie good, and that is but a kinde of b.a.s.t.a.r.d hope neither

Iessica. And what hope is that I pray thee?

Clow. Marrie you may partlie hope that your father got you not, that you are not the Iewes daughter

Ies. That were a kinde of b.a.s.t.a.r.d hope indeed, so the sins of my mother should be visited vpon me

Clow. Truly then I feare you are d.a.m.ned both by father and mother: thus when I shun Scilla your father, I fall into Charibdis your mother; well, you are gone both waies

Ies. I shall be sau'd by my husband, he hath made me a Christian

Clow. Truly the more to blame he, we were Christians enow before, e'ne as many as could wel liue one by another: this making of Christians will raise the price of Hogs, if wee grow all to be porke-eaters, wee shall not shortlie haue a rasher on the coales for money.

Enter Lorenzo.

Ies. Ile tell my husband Lancelet what you say, heere he comes

Loren. I shall grow iealous of you shortly Lancelet, if you thus get my wife into corners?

Ies. Nay, you need not feare vs Lorenzo, Launcelet and I are out, he tells me flatly there is no mercy for mee in heauen, because I am a Iewes daughter: and hee saies you are no good member of the common wealth, for in conuerting Iewes to Christians, you raise the price of Porke

Loren. I shall answere that better to the Commonwealth, than you can the getting vp of the Negroes bellie: the Moore is with childe by you Launcelet?

Clow. It is much that the Moore should be more then reason: but if she be lesse then an honest woman, shee is indeed more then I tooke her for

Loren. How euerie foole can play vpon the word, I thinke the best grace of witte will shortly turne into silence, and discourse grow commendable in none onely but Parrats: goe in sirra, bid them prepare for dinner?

Clow. That is done sir, they haue all stomacks?

Loren. Goodly Lord, what a witte-snapper are you, then bid them prepare dinner

Clow. That is done to sir, onely couer is the word

Loren. Will you couer than sir?

Clow. Not so sir neither, I know my dutie

Loren. Yet more quarreling with occasion, wilt thou shew the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant; I pray thee vnderstand a plaine man in his plaine meaning: goe to thy fellowes, bid them couer the table, serue in the meat, and we will come in to dinner

Clow. For the table sir, it shall be seru'd in, for the meat sir, it shall bee couered, for your comming in to dinner sir, why let it be as humors and conceits shall gouerne.

Exit Clowne.

Lor. O deare discretion, how his words are suted, The foole hath planted in his memory An Armie of good words, and I doe know A many fooles that stand in better place, Garnisht like him, that for a tricksie word Defie the matter: how cheer'st thou Iessica, And now good sweet say thy opinion, How dost thou like the Lord Ba.s.siano's wife?

Iessi. Past all expressing, it is very meete The Lord Ba.s.sanio liue an vpright life For hauing such a blessing in his Lady, He findes the ioyes of heauen heere on earth, And if on earth he doe not meane it, it Is reason he should neuer come to heauen?

Why, if two G.o.ds should play some heauenly match, And on the wager lay two earthly women, And Portia one: there must be something else Paund with the other, for the poore rude world Hath not her fellow

Loren. Euen such a husband Hast thou of me, as she is for a wife

Ies. Nay, but aske my opinion to of that?

Lor. I will anone, first let vs goe to dinner?

Ies. Nay, let me praise you while I haue a stomacke?

Lor. No pray thee, let it serue for table talke, Then how som ere thou speakst 'mong other things, I shall digest it?

Iessi. Well, Ile set you forth.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus.

Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Anthonio, Ba.s.sanio, and Gratiano

Duke. What, is Anthonio heere?

Ant. Ready, so please your grace?

Duke. I am sorry for thee, thou art come to answere A stonie aduersary, an inhumane wretch, Vncapable of pitty, voyd, and empty From any dram of mercie

Ant. I haue heard Your Grace hath tane great paines to qualifie His rigorous course: but since he stands obdurate, And that no lawful meanes can carrie me Out of his enuies reach, I do oppose My patience to his fury, and am arm'd To suffer with a quietnesse of spirit, The very tiranny and rage of his

Du. Go one and cal the Iew into the Court

Sal. He is ready at the doore, he comes my Lord.

Enter Shylocke.

Du. Make roome, and let him stand before our face.

Shylocke the world thinkes, and I thinke so to That thou but leadest this fas.h.i.+on of thy mallice To the last houre of act, and then 'tis thought Thou'lt shew thy mercy and remorse more strange, Than is thy strange apparant cruelty; And where thou now exact'st the penalty, Which is a pound of this poore Merchants flesh, Thou wilt not onely loose the forfeiture, But touch'd with humane gentlenesse and loue: Forgiue a moytie of the princ.i.p.all, Glancing an eye of pitty on his losses That haue of late so hudled on his backe, Enow to presse a royall Merchant downe; And plucke commiseration of his state From bra.s.sie bosomes, and rough hearts of flints, From stubborne Turkes and Tarters neuer traind To offices of tender curtesie, We all expect a gentle answer Iew?

Iew. I haue possest your grace of what I purpose, And by our holy Sabbath haue I sworne To haue the due and forfeit of my bond.

If you denie it, let the danger light Vpon your Charter, and your Cities freedome.

You'l aske me why I rather choose to haue A weight of carrion flesh, then to receiue Three thousand Ducats? Ile not answer that: But say it is my humor; Is it answered?

What if my house be troubled with a Rat, And I be pleas'd to giue ten thousand Ducates To haue it bain'd? What, are you answer'd yet?

Some men there are loue not a gaping Pigge: Some that are mad, if they behold a Cat: And others, when the bag-pipe sings i'th nose, Cannot containe their Vrine for affection.

Masters of pa.s.sion swayes it to the moode Of what it likes or loaths, now for your answer: As there is no firme reason to be rendred Why he cannot abide a gaping Pigge?

Why he a harmlesse necessarie Cat?

Why he a woollen bag-pipe: but of force Must yeeld to such ineuitable shame, As to offend himselfe being offended: So can I giue no reason, nor I will not, More then a lodg'd hate, and a certaine loathing I beare Anthonio, that I follow thus A loosing suite against him? Are you answered?

Ba.s.s. This is no answer thou vnfeeling man, To excuse the currant of thy cruelty

Iew. I am not bound to please thee with my answer

Ba.s.s. Do all men kil the things they do not loue?

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

Ba.s.s. Euerie offence is not a hate at first

Iew. What wouldst thou haue a Serpent sting thee twice?

Ant. I pray you thinke you question with the Iew: You may as well go stand vpon the beach, And bid the maine flood baite his vsuall height, Or euen as well vse question with the Wolfe, The Ewe bleate for the Lambe: You may as well forbid the Mountaine Pines To wagge their high tops, and to make no noise When they are fretted with the gusts of heauen: You may as well do any thing most hard, As seeke to soften that, then which what harder?

His Iewish heart. Therefore I do beseech you Make no more offers, vse no farther meanes, But with all briefe and plaine conueniencie Let me haue iudgement, and the Iew his will