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This was a way to thrive, and he was blest;

And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. [Crosses to R.
Ant. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob serv'd for ;
A thing not in his power to bring to pass,

But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of Heaven:
Was this inserted to make interest good?

Or is your gold and silver, ewes and rams?

Shy. (R.) I cannot tell; I make it breed as fast. Ant. [Apart to Bassanio, L.] Mark you this, Bassanio, The devil can cite scripture for his purpose.

An evil soul, producing holy witness,

Is like a villain with a smiling cheek;
A goodly apple rotten at the heart:

O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!

Shy. [Musing, R.] Three thousand ducats-'Tis a
good round sum.

Three months from twelve, then let me see the rate.
Ant. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholden to you?
Shy. [Slowly turning towards Antonio.] Signior An-
tonio, many a time and oft,

In the Rialto you have rated me

About my monies, and my usances;
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug;
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe:
You call me-misbeliever, cut-throat dog.
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine,
And all for use of that which is mine own.

[Advances nearer. Well, then, it now appears you need my help: Go to then; you come to me, and you say, 66 Shylock, we would have monies:" You say so; You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cur Over your threshold: monies is your suit. What should I say to you? Should I not say, "Hath a dog money? Is it possible

A cur can lend three thousand ducats?" or
Shall I bend low, and in a bondsman's key,
With 'bated breath, and whispering humbleness,
Say this-

"Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last;
You spurn'd me such a day; another time
You call'd me-dog; and for these courtesies
I'll lend you thus much monies."

Ant. I am as like to call thee so again,

To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too.
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not
As to thy friends; (for when did friendship take
A breed for barren metal of his friend?)

But lend it rather to thine enemy;

Who if he break, thou may'st with better face
Exact the penalty.

Shy. (R. C.) Why, look you, how you storm!
I would be friends with you, and have your love,
Forget the shames that you have stain'd we with,
Supply your present wants, and take no doit

Of usance for my monies, and you'll not hear me :
This is kind I offer.

Ant. This were kindness.

Shy. This kindness will I show :-
Go with me to a notary, seal me there
Your single bond; and, in a merry sport,
If you repay me not on such a day,

In such a place, such sum, or sums, as are
Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit
Be nominated for an equal pound

Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken
In what part of your body pleaseth me.

Ant. Content, in faith: I'll seal to such a bond,
And say, there is much kindness in the Jew.

Bass. You shall not seal to such a bond for me, I'd rather dwell in my necessity.

Ant. 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.

[Antonio and Bassanio retire to L. Shy. (R.) O, father Abraham, what these Christians

are;

Whose own hard dealing teaches them to suspect
The thoughts of others!-Pray you, tell me this;
[They advance.

If he should break his day, what should I gain
By the exaction of the forfeiture?
A pound of man's flesh, taken from a man,
Is not so estimable, profitable neither,
As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say,
To buy his favour, I extend this friendship;
If he will take it, so; if not, adieu;
And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not.

Ant. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond.
Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's;
Give him direction for this merry bond,
And I will go and purse the ducats straight;
See to my house, left in the fearful guard
Of an unthrifty knave; and presently

I will be with you.

Ant. Hie thee, gentle Jew.

[Exit Shylock, R.

This Hebrew will turn Christian; he grows kind.
Bass. (L.) I like not fair terms, and a villain's mind.
Ant. (L.) Come on; in this there can be no dismay,
My ships come home a month before the day. [Exeunt, L.

END OF ACT I.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-A Street in Venice.

Enter LAUNCELOT GOBBO, from L. D. F.

Laun. (c.) 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, Heaven bless the mark! is a kind of devil; and, to run away

from the Jew, I should be rul'd by the fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the devil himself: certainly, the Jew is the very devil incarnation, 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 commandment, I will run. [Going R. Gob. [Without, R.] Master, young man, you, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew's?

Laun. O, heavens, this is my true begotten father! who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel blind, knows me not:-I will try conclusions with him.

Enter OLD GOBBO, R. with a basket.

Gob. (R.) Master, young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew's?

Laun. (R.) 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.

Gob. "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 master Launcelot ?—[Aside.] Mark me now: now will I raise the waters :-Talk you of young master Launcelot?

Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man's son; his father, though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man, and, Heaven be thanked, well to live.

Laun. Well, let his father be what he will, we talk of young master Launcelot.

Gob. Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership.

Laun. 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.

Gob. Marry, Heaven forbid! the boy was the very staff of my age, my very prop.

Laun. Do I look like a cudgel, or a hovel-post, a staff, or a prop?-Do you know me, father?

Gob. Alack the day, I know you not, young gentleman: but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy (Heaven rest his soul!) alive or dead?

Laun. Do you not know me, father?

Gob. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind, I know you not. Laun. 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. [Falls on his knees.] Give me your blessing: truth will come to light; murder cannot be hid long, a man's son may; but, in the end, truth will out.

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Gob. Pray you, sir, stand up; I am sure, you are not Launcelot, my boy.

Laun. [Rises.] 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.

Gob. I cannot think you are my son.

Laun. 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.

Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed. I'll be sworn, if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood. Lord, worshipp'd might he be! what a beard hast thou got! thou hast got more hair on thy chin, than Dobbin my thill-horse has on his tail.

Laun. (c.) It should seem then, that Dobbin's tail grows backward; I am sure, he had more hair on his tail, than I have on my face, when I last saw him.

Gob. (c.) Lord, how art thou chang'd! How dost thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a present.

Laun. 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 Heaven 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 STEPHANO, r.

Bass. You may do so:-See these letters delivered; put the liveries to making and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging. [Exit Stephano, R.

Laun. To him, father.

Gob. Heaven bless your worship!

Bass. (R. c.) Gramercy; wouldst thou aught with me? Gob. Here's my son, sir, a poor boy

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