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Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore this, - It cannot be ; it is impossible :
If for my love (as there is no such cause)

Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
You will do aught, this shall you do for me:

Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed Whose influence is begot of that loose grace, To some forlorn and naked hermitage,

Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools: Remote from all the pleasures of the world ; A jest's prosperity lies in the ear There stay, until the twelve celestial signs

of him that hears it, never in the tongue Have brought about their annual reckoning ; Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears, If this austere insociable life

Deafʼd with the clamours of their own dear Change not your offer made in heat of blood;

groans, If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds 8, Will hear your idle scorns, continue then, Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,

And I will have you, and that fault withal ; But that it bear this trial, and last love ;

But, if they will not, throw away that spirit,
Then, at the expiration of the year,

And I shall find you empty of that fault,
Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts, Right joyful of your reformation.
And, by this virgin palm, now kissing thine,

Biron. A twelvemonth? well, befal what will I will be thine; and, till that instant, shut

befal, My woeful self up in a mourning house ;

I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. Raining the tears of lamentation,

Prin. Ay, sweet my lord: and so I take my For the remembrance of my father's death.

leave.

[To the King. If this thou do deny, let our hands part;

King. No, madam : we will bring you on your Neither intitled in the other's heart.

way. King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old play;

To flatter up these powers of mine with rest, Jack hath not Jill: these ladies' courtesy The sudden hand of death close up mine eye ! Might well have made our sport a comedy.

Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. King. Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day, Biron. And what to me, my love? and what to And then 'twill end. me ?

Biron.

That's too long for a play. Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rank; You are attaint with faults and perjury;

Enter ARMADO.
Therefore, if you my favour mean to get,

Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me, –
A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, Prin. Was not that Hector ?
But seek the weary beds of people sick.

Dum. The worthy knight of Troy.
Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me? Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger and take leave:
Kath. A wife! A beard, fair health, and ho- I am a votary; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold
nesty ;

the plough for her sweet love three years. But, With three-fold love I wish you all these three. most esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue

Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife? that the two learned men have compiled, in praise

Kath. Not so, my lord ;-a twelvemonth and a day of the owl and the cuckoo? it should have followed J'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers say : in the end of our show. Come when the king doth to my lady come,

King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so. Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some. Arm. Holla! approach.

Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then.
Kath. Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn again. Enter HOLOFERNES, NATHANIEL, Moth, Costard,
Long. What says Maria ?

and others. Mar.

At the twelvemonth's end, This side is Hiems, winter; this Ver, the spring; I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend.

the one maintain'd by the owl, the other by the Long. I'll stay with patience; but the time is long. cuckoo. Ver, begin. Mar. The liker you ; few taller are so young. Biron. Studies my lady? mistress, look on me.

SONG.
Behold the window of my heart, mine eye,

I.
What bumble suit attends thy answer there ;
Impose some service on me for thy love.

Spring. When daisies pied, and violets blue,
Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Birón,

And lady-smocks all silver-white, Before I saw you : and the world's large tongue

And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue, Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks;

Do paint the meadows with delight, Full of comparisons and wounding flouts ;

The cuckoo then, on every free, Which you on all estates will execute,

Mocks married men, for thus sings he,
That lie within the mercy of your wit :

Cuckoo ;
To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain ; Cuckoo, cuckoo, - ( word of fear,
And, therewithal, to win me, if you please,

Unpleasing to a married ear! (Without the which I am not to be won,)

II.
You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day
Visit the speechless sick, and still converse

When shepherds pipe on oalen straws,
With groaning wretches; and your task shall be,

And merry lurks are ploughmen's clocks, With all the fierce endeavour of your wit,

When turlles tread, and rouks, and dau's, To enforce the pained impotent to smile.

And maidens bleach their summer smocks, Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of

The cuckoo then, on every tree, death?

Mocks married men, for thus sings he, & Clothing

Cuckoo ;

Cuckoo, cuckoo - 0 word of fear,

IV.
Unpleasing to a married ear!

When all aloud the wind doth blow,

And coughing drowns the parson's saw, III.

And birds sit brooding in the snow, Winter. When icicles hang by the wall,

And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,

When roasted crabs' hiss in the bowl,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,

Then nightly sings the staring owl,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,

To-who ;
When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul,

Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
To-who ;
Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note,

Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after the
While greasy Joan doth keel 9 the pot. songs of Apollo. You, that way; we, this way.

(Ereunt. 9 Scum.

I Wild apples.

MERCHANT OF VENICE.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

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DUKE OF Venice,

Old GOBBO, Father to Launcelot.
PRINCE OF MOROCCO,
Suitors to Portia.

SALERIO, a Messenger from Venice.

LEONARDO, Servant to Bassanio. AxTOx:0, the Merchant of Venice.

BalTuaZAR,

Servants to Portia.
BASSANIO, his Friend.
SALAXIO,
SALARIXO, Friends to Antonio and Bassanio. Portia, a rich Heiress.
GRATIANO,

Nerissa, her Waiting-Maid.
LORENZO, in love with Jessica.

Jessica, Daughter to Shylock.
SHYLOCK, a Jew.
TUBAI., a Jew, his Friend.

Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, LAUNCELOT GOBBO, a Clown, Servant lo Shylock. Gaoler, Servants, and other Attendants.

SCENE, partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the Seat of Portia, on the Continent.

}

ACT I.

SCENE I. – Venice. A Street.

But I should think of shallows and of flats;

And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand, Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SaLaNIO, Vailing? her bigh-top lower than her ribs,

To kiss her burial. Should I go to church,
Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad; And see the holy edifice of stone,
It wearies me ; you say it wearies you;

And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks?
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, Which touching but my gentle vessel's side,
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,

Would scatter all her spices on the stream; I am to learn ;

Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks; And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,

And, in a word, but even now worth this, That I have much ado to know myself.

And now worth nothing! Shall I have the thought Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean; To think on this ; and shall I lack the thought, There, where your argosies ' with portly sail,

That such a thing, bechanc'd, would make me sad? Like signiors and rich burghers of the flood,

But, tell not me; I know, Antonio Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea, —

Is sad to think upon his merchandize. Do overpeer the petty traffickers,

Ant. Believe me, no : I thank my fortune for it, That curt'sy to them, do them reverence,

My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, As they fly by them with their woven wings. Nor to one place ; nor is my whole estate

Salan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, Upon the fortune of this present year : The better part of my affections would

Therefore, my merchandize makes me not sad. Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still

Salan. Why then you are in love. Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind;

Ant.

Fye, fye! Peering in maps, for ports, and piers, and roads; Salan. Not in love neither? Then let's say, you And every object, that might make me fear

are sad, Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt,

Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy Would make me sad.

For you, to laugh, and leap, and say, you are merry, Salar.

My wind, cooling my broth, Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus,
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time :
What harm a wind too great might do at sea. Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,

And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper ;
Ships of large burden.

2 Lowering.

1

And other of such vinegar aspect,

you shall seek all day ere you find them : and, when That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, you have them, they are not worth the search. Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.

Anl. Well; tell me now, what lady is this same

To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, Enter Bassanio, LORENZO, and GratiaNO.

That you to-day promis'd to tell me of ? Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble Bass. "Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, kinsman,

How much I have disabled mine estate, Gratiano, and Lorenzo : Fare you well;

By something showing a more swelling port We leave you now with better company.

Than my faint means would grant continuance :
Salar. I would have staid till I had made you merry, Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd
If worthier friends had not prevented me.

From such a noble rate; but my chief care
Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. Is, to come fairly off from the great debts,
I take it, your own business calls on you,

Wherein my time, something too prodigal,
And you embrace the occasion to depart.

Hath left me gag'd: To you, Antonio, Salur. Good morrow, my good lords.

I owe the most, in money, and in love; Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? And from your love I have a warranty Say, when ?

To unburthen all my plots, and purposes, You grow exceeding strange : Must it be so ? How to get clear of all the debts I owe. Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me kuow it;

(Ereunt SALARINO and Salanio. And, if it stand, as you yourself still do, Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found within the eye of honour, be assured, Antonio,

My purse, my person, my extremest means, We two will leave you : but, at dinner-time, Lie all unlock'd to your occasions. I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft Bass. I will not fail you.

I shot his fellow of the self-same fight
Gra. You look not well, signior Antonio ; The self-same way, with more advised watch,
You have too much respect upon the world : To find the other forth ; and by advent'ring both,
They lose it, that do buy it with much care. I oft found both : I urge this childhood proof,
Believe me, you are marvellously chang’d.

Because what follows is pure innocence.
Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; I owe you much ; and, like a wilful youth,
A stage, where every man must play a part, That which I owe is lost : but if you please
And mine a sad one.

To shoot another arrow that self way
Gra.

Let me play the Fool : Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; As I will watch the aim, or to find both, And let my liver rather heat with wine,

Or bring your latter hazard back again, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. And thankfully rest debtor for the first. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Ant. You know me well; and herein spend but Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ?

time, Sleep when he wakes ? and creep into the jaundice To wind about my love with circumstance; By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio, And, out of doubi, you do me now more wrong, I love thee, and it is my love that speaks ;

In making question of my uttermost, There are a sort of men, whose visages

Than if you had made waste of all I have : Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond; Then do but say to me what I should do, And do a wilful stillness 3 entertain,

That in your knowledge may by me be done, With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion

And I am prest 4 unto it: therefore, speak. Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;

Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left, As who should say, I am sir Oracle,

And she is fair, and, fairer than that word, And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark !

Of wond'rous virtues ; sometimes 5 from her eyes O, my Antonio, I do know of these,

I did receive fair speechless messages :
That therefore only are reputed wise,

Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalued
For saying nothing; who, I am very sure, To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia.
If they should speak, would almost dam those ears, Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ;
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers, fools. For the four winds blow in from every coast
I'll tell thee inore of this another time :

Renowned suitors : and her sunny locks
But fish not, with this melancholy bait,

Hang on her temples like a golden fleece ; For this fool's gudgeon, this opinion.

Which makes her seat of Belmont, Colchos' strand, Come, good Lorenzo: — Fare ye well, a while; And many Jasons come in quest of her. I'll end my exhortation after dinner.

O my Antonio, had I but the means Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner-time: | To hold a rival place with one of them, I must be one of these same dumb wise men, I have a mind presages me such thrift, For Gratiano never lets me speak.

That I should questionless be fortunate. Gra. Well, keep me company but two years more, Ant. Thou know'st, that all my fortunes are at sea Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. Nor have I money, nor commodity Ant. Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear. To raise a present sum: therefore go forth,

(Ereunt Gratis NO and LORENZO. Try what my credit can in Venice do ; Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost, more than any man in all Venice: His reasons are To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; Go presently inquire, and so will I,

3 Obstinate silence,

* Ready.

» Formerly.

Where money is; and I no question make,

Por. You know, I say nothing to him; for he To have it of my trust, or for my sake. (Ereunt. understands not me, nor I him : he hath neither

Latin, French, nor Italian; and you will come into SCENE II.- Belmont. A Room in Portia's House. the court and swear, that I have a poor pennyworth

in the English. He is a proper man's picture; But, Enter PORTIA and NERISSA.

alas! who can converse with a dumb show? How Por. By iny troth, Nerissa, my little body is oddly he is suited! I think he bought his doublet a-weary of this great world.

in Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your mi- Germany, and his behaviour every where. series were in the same abundance as your good Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his fortunes are: And yet, for aught I see, they are as neighbour ? sick, that surfeit with too much, as they that starve Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him; with nothing: It is no mean happiness, therefore, for he borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman, to be seated in the mean; superfluity comes sooner and swore he would pay him again, when he was by white hairs, but competency lives longer. | able : I think, the Frenchman became his surety,

Por. Good sentences, and well pronounced. and sealed under for another.
Ner. They would be better, if well followed. Ner. How like you the young German, the duke

Por. If to do were as easy as to know what were of Saxony's nephew ? good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he is men's cottages, princes' palaces. It is a good divine sober; and most vilely in the afternoon, when he is that follows his own instructions : I can easier teach drunk : when he is best, he is a little worse than a twenty what were good to be done, than be one of man; and when he is worst, he is little better than the twenty to follow mine own teaching. But this a beast : an the worst fall that ever fell, I hope, I reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me a hus- shall make shift to go without him. band: - 0 me, the word choose! I may neither Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the choose whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike ; right casket, you should refuse to perform your so is the will of a living daughter curb’d by the will father's will, if you should refuse to accept him. of a dead father: – Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, cannot choose one, nor refuse none ?

set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary Ner. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy casket; for, if the devil be within, and that temptmen, at their death, have good inspirations; there- ation without, I know he will choose it. I will do fore, the lottery, that he hath devised in these three any thing, Nerissa, ere I will be married to a spunge. chests, of gold, silver, and lead, (whereof who Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of chooses his meaning, chooses you,) will, no doubt, these lords; they have acquainted me with their never be chosen by any rightly, but one who you determinations : which is indeed, to return to their shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in home, and to trouble you with no more suit; unless your affection towards any of these princely suitors you may be won by some other sort than your fathat are already come?

ther's imposition, depending on the caskets. Por. I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die namest them, I will describe them; and, according as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manto my description, level at my affection.

ner of my father's will : I am glad this parcel of Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. wooers are so reasonable ; for there is not one among

Por. Ay, that's a colt, indeed, for he doth nothing them but I dote on his very absence, and I wish them but talk of his horse ; and he makes it a great ap- a tair departure. propriation to his own good parts, that he can shoe Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's him himself.

time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, that came Ner. Then, is there the county 6 Palatine. hither in company of the Marquis of Montferrat ?

Por. He doth nothing but frown; as who should Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, so say, An if you will not have me, choose ; he hears was he called. merry tales, and smiles not: I fear he will prove Ner. True, madam; he of all the men that ever the weeping philosopher when he grows old, being my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had a fair lady. rather be married to a death's head with a bone in Por. I remember him well; and I remember him his mouth, than to either of these. Heaven defend worthy of thy praise. How now! what news? me from these two! Ner. How say you by the French lord, monsieur

Enter a Servant.
Le Bon ?
Por. Heaven made him, and therefore let him

Serv. The four strangers seek for you, madam,

to take their leave : and there is a fore-runner come pass for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker : But, he ! why, he hath a horse better than word, the prince, his master, will be here to-night.

from a fifth, the prince of Morocco; who brings the Neapolitan's; a better bad habit of frowning

Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so than the count Palatine: he is every man in no man: if a throstle sing, he falls straight a capering; he good heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I will fence with his own shadow : If I should marry dition 7 of a saint, and the complexion of a devil, I

should be glad of his approach : if he have the conhim, I should marry twenty husbands : If he would

had rather he should shrive me than wive me. despise me, I would forgive him; for if he love me Come, Nerissa. to madness, I shall never requite him.

- Sirrah, go before. - Whiles we Ner. What say you then to Faulconbridge, the shut the gate upon one wooer, another knocks at

(Exeunt. young baron of England ? 6 Count.

the door.

7 Temper, qualities.

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