The Merchant of Venice | Page 8

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.