The Merchant of Venice - William Shakespeare (best thriller novels to read .TXT) 📗

I bend low and, in a bondman's key,
With bated breath and whisp'ring 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 moneys?'

ANTONIO.
I am as like to call thee so again,
To spet 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 mayst with better face
Exact the penalty.

SHYLOCK.
Why, look you, how you storm!
I would be friends with you, and have your love,
Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with,
Supply your present wants, and take no doit
Of usance for my moneys, and you'll not hear me:
This is kind I offer.

BASSANIO.
This were kindness.

SHYLOCK.
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.

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

BASSANIO.
You shall not seal to such a bond for me;
I'll rather dwell in my necessity.

ANTONIO.
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.

SHYLOCK.
O father Abram, what these Christians are,
Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect
The thoughts of others. Pray you, tell me this;
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.

ANTONIO.
Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond.

SHYLOCK.
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'll be with you.

ANTONIO.
Hie thee, gentle Jew.

[Exit SHYLOCK]

This Hebrew will turn Christian: he grows kind.

BASSANIO.
I like not fair terms and a villain's mind.

ANTONIO.
Come on; in this there can be no dismay;
My ships come home a month before the day.

[Exeunt]


ACT 2.

SCENE I. Belmont. A room in PORTIA's house.

[Flourish of cornets. Enter the PRINCE of MOROCCO, and his
Followers;
PORTIA, NERISSA, and Others of her train.]

PRINCE OF Morocco.
Mislike me not for my complexion,
The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun,
To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred.
Bring me the fairest creature northward born,
Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles,
And let us make incision for your love
To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine.
I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine
Hath fear'd the valiant; by my love, I swear
The best-regarded virgins of our clime
Have lov'd it too. I would not change this hue,
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen.

PORTIA.
In terms of choice I am not solely led
By nice direction of a maiden's eyes;
Besides, the lottery of my destiny
Bars me the right of voluntary choosing;
But, if my father had not scanted me
And hedg'd me by his wit, to yield myself
His wife who wins me by that means I told you,
Yourself, renowned Prince, then stood as fair
As any comer I have look'd on yet
For my affection.

PRINCE OF MOROCCO.
Even for that I thank you:
Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets
To try my fortune. By this scimitar, -
That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince,
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, -
I would o'erstare the sternest eyes that look,
Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth,
Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear,
Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey,
To win thee, lady. But, alas the while!
If Hercules and Lichas play at dice
Which is the better man, the greater throw
May turn by fortune from the weaker hand:
So is Alcides beaten by his page;
And so may I, blind Fortune leading me,
Miss that which one unworthier may attain,
And die with grieving.

PORTIA.
You must take your chance,
And either not attempt to choose at all,
Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong,
Never to speak to lady afterward
In way of marriage; therefore be advis'd.

PRINCE OF MOROCCO.
Nor will not; come, bring me unto my chance.

PORTIA.
First, forward to the temple: after dinner
Your hazard shall be made.

PRINCE OF MOROCCO.
Good fortune then!
To make me blest or cursed'st among men!

[Cornets, and exeunt.]


SCENE 2. Venice. A street

[Enter LAUNCELOT GOBBO.]

LAUNCELOT.
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, God bless the mark! is a kind of devil;
and, to run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the fiend,
who, saving your reverence! is the devil himself. Certainly the
Jew is the very devil incarnal; 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.

[Enter OLD GOBBO, with a basket]

GOBBO.
Master young man, you, I pray you; which is the way to Master
Jew's?

LAUNCELOT.
[Aside] O heavens! This is my true-begotten father, who, being
more
than sand-blind, high-gravel blind, knows me not: I will try
confusions with him.

GOBBO.
Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to Master
Jew's?

LAUNCELOT.
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.

GOBBO.
Be God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit. Can you tell
me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, dwell with him or
no?

LAUNCELOT.
Talk you of young Master Launcelot? [Aside] Mark me
now; now will I raise the waters. Talk you of young Master
Launcelot?

GOBBO.
No master, sir, but a poor man's son; his father, though I
say't, is an honest exceeding poor man, and, God be thanked, well
to live.

LAUNCELOT.
Well, let his father be what 'a will, we talk of young
Master Launcelot.

GOBBO.
Your worship's friend, and Launcelot, sir.

LAUNCELOT.
But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you, talk
you of young Master Launcelot?

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

LAUNCELOT.
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.

GOBBO.
Marry, God forbid! The boy was the very staff of my age, my
very prop.

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

GOBBO.
Alack the day! I know you not, young gentleman; but I pray
you tell me, is my boy - God rest his soul! - alive or dead?

LAUNCELOT.
Do you not know me, father?

GOBBO.
Alack, sir, I am sand-blind; I know you not.

LAUNCELOT.
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. 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.

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

LAUNCELOT.
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.

GOBBO.
I cannot think you are my son.

LAUNCELOT.
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.

GOBBO.
Her name is Margery, indeed: I'll be sworn, if thou be
Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood. Lord worshipped
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.

LAUNCELOT.
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.

GOBBO.
Lord! how art thou changed! How dost thou and thy master
agree? I have brought him a present. How 'gree you now?

LAUNCELOT.
Well, well; but, for mine own part, as I have set up my
rest to run away, so I will not rest till I have run some ground.
My master's a very Jew. 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 God 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, with and other Followers.]

BASSANIO.
You may do so; but let it be so hasted that supper be
ready at the farthest by five of the clock. See