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Por. Too long a paufe for that which you find there. Ar. What's here? the portrait of a blinking idiot, Prefenting me a schedule? I will read it.

How much unlike art thou to Portia !

How much unlike my hopes, and my defervings!
Who chufeth me, fhall have as much as he deferves.
Did I deferve no more than a fool's head?

Is that my prize? are my deferts no better?
Por. To offend, and judge, are diftinct offices,
And of oppofed natures.
Ar. What is here?

The fire feven times tried this;
Seven times try'd that judgment is,
That did never chufe amifs:
Some there be, that shadows kifs;
Such have but a fhadow's bliss:
There be fools alive, "I wis,
Silver'd o'er; and fo was this.
"Take what wife you will to bed,
I will ever be your head:
So be gone, fir, you are fped.

Ar. Still more fool I fhall appear
By the time I linger here:
With one fool's head I came to woo,

But I go away with two.-
Sweet, adieu! I'll keep my oath,
Patiently to bear my wroth.

Por. Thus hath the candle fing'd the moth.
O these deliberate fools! when they do chuse,
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose.


"I wis,-I guess, imagine.

Take what wife you will to bed,]—an escape of memory: Portia's difappointed fuitors were never to marry.



Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy ;-
Hanging and wiving goes by deftiny.
Por. Come, draw the curtain, Neriffa.
Enter a Servant.

Serv. Where is my lady?

Por. Here; what would my lord?

Serv. Madam, there is alighted at your gate
A young Venetian, one that comes before
To fignify the approaching of his lord:
From whom he bringeth fenfible' regreets ;
To wit, befides commends, and courteous breath,
Gifts of rich value; yet I have not seen
So likely an embassador of love:

A day in April never came fo fweet,

To fhow how coftly fummer was at hand,
As this fore-fpurrer comes before his lord.


Por. No more, I pray thee; I am half afeard,
Thou wilt say anon, he is some kin to thee,
Thou spend'ft fuch high-day wit in praising him.-
Come, come, Neriffa; for I long to fee
Quick Cupid's poft, that comes fo mannerly.
Ner. Baffanio, lord love, if thy will it be!


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A Street in Venice.

Y regreets;]-falutations.




Enter Solanio and Salarino.

Sala. Now, what news on the Rialto?

Sol. Why, yet it lives there uncheck'd, that Anthonio

jay anon, &c.]-digrefs into a long tale of his being.

high-day wit]-you commend him in fuch high-flown terms.
"he fpeaks bolyday."



hath a fhip of rich lading wreck'd on the narrow feas; the Goodwins, I think they call the place; a very dangerous flat, and fatal, where the carcafes of many a tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my goffip report be an honest woman of her word.

Sala. I would fhe were as lying a goflip in that, as ever 'knapt ginger, or made her neighbours believe the wept for the death of a third husband: But it is true,—without any flips of prolixity, or croffing the plain high-way of talk,-that the good Anthonio, the honest Anthonio,— O that I had a title good enough to keep his name company!

Sol. Come the full stop.

Sala. Ha,-what say'st thou?

-Why the end is, he

hath loft a ship.

Sol. I would it might prove the end of his loffes! Sala. Let me fay amen betimes, left the devil crofs 'thy prayer; for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew.

Enter Shylock.

How now, Shylock? what news among the merchants? Shy. You knew, none fo well, none fo well as you, of my daughter's flight.

Sol. That's certain; I, for my part, knew the taylor that made the wings fhe flew withal.

Sala. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was fledge; and then it is the complexion of them all to leave the dam.


Shy. She is damn'd for it.

Sol. That's certain, if the devil may be her judge.
Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel!

knapt ginger,]-for a fpiced cup-as ever spiced a bowl.


my prayer-Solanio's, made his own by faying amen to it.
complexion]-nature, difpofition.


Sala. Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it at thefe years? Shy. I fay, my daughter is my flesh and blood.

Sol. There is more difference between thy flesh and hers, than between jet and ivory; more between your bloods, than there is between red wine and rhenifh :-But tell us, do you hear, whether Anthonio have had any lofs at sea or no?

Shy. There I have another bad match: a bankrupt, a prodigal, who dare scarce shew his head on the Rialto ;a beggar, that us'd to come fo fmug upon the mart ;-let him look to his bond: he was wont to call me ufurer ;let him look to his bond: he was wont to lend money for a Christian courtesy;-let him look to his bond.

Sol. Why, I am fure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his flesh; What's that good for?

Shy. To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. He hath difgrac'd me, and hinder'd me of half a million; laugh'd at my loffes, mock'd at my gains, fcorn'd my nation, thwarted my bargains, cool'd my friends, heated mine enemies; And what's his reafon ? I am a Jew: Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands; organs, dimensions, fenfes, affections, paffions? fed with the fame food, hurt with the fame weapons, fubject to the fame diseases, heal'd by the fame means, warm'd and cool'd by the fame winter and fummer, as a Chriftian is? if you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poifon us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, fhall we not revenge? if we are like you in the reft, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? revenge: If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his fufferance be by Christian


a prodigal,]-in his bounty, lending without intereft.


example? why, revenge. The villainy, you teach me, I will execute; and it fhall go hard, but I will better the instruction.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Gentlemen, my mafter Anthonio is at his house, and defires to speak with you both.

Sol. We have been up and down to seek him.

Enter Tubal.

Sala. Here comes another of the tribe; a third cannot be match'd, unless the devil himself turn Jew.

[Exeunt Sol. and Salar. Shy. How now, Tubal, what news from Genoa? haft thou found my daughter?

Tub. I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot find her.

Shy. Why there, there, there, there! a diamond gone, coft me two thousand ducats in Frankfort! the curfe never fell upon our nation 'till now: I never felt it 'till now :— two thousand ducats in that; and other precious, precious jewels.-I would, my daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels in her ear! 'would fhe were hears'd at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin! No news of them?-Why, fo:-and I know not what's spent in the search: Why, thou lofs upon lofs! the thief gone with so much, and so much to find the thief; and no fatisfaction, no revenge: nor no ill luck stirring, but what lights o' my fhoulders; no fighs, but o' my breathing; no tears, but o' my shedding.

Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too; Anthonio, as I heard in Genoa,—

Shy. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck?

Tub. Hath an argofy caft away, coming from Tripolis. Shy. I thank God, I thank God:-Is it true? is it true?


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