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, beeves, 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

The 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

2.1 ⌈Flourish of cornetts.⌉ Enter the Prince of Morocco, a tawny Moor all in white, and three or four followers accordingly, with Portia, Nerissa, and their train

MOROCCO (to Portia)

Mislike me not for my complexion,

The shadowed livery of the burnished 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 feared the valiant. By my love I swear,

The best regarded virgins of our clime

Have loved 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 lott’ry of my destiny

Bars me the right of voluntary choosing.

But if my father had not scanted me,

And hedged 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 looked on yet

For my affection.

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 Suleiman,

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 a roars for prey,

To win the 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 rage,

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 advised.

MOROCCO

Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my chance.

PORTIA

First, forward to the temple. After dinner

Your hazard shall be made.

MOROCCO Good fortune then,

To make me blest or cursèd’st among men.

⌈Flourish of cornetts.⌉ Exeunt

2.2 Enter Lancelot the clown

LANCELOT 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, Lancelot Gobbo, good Lancelot,’ or ‘good Gobbo,’ or ‘good Lancelot Gobbo—use your legs, take the start, run away.’ My conscience says ‘No, take heed, honest Lancelot, take heed, honest Gobbo,’ or, as aforesaid, ‘honest Lancelot 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 Lancelot’—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, ‘Lancelot, 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 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.

Enter old Gobbo, ⌈blind,⌉ with a basket

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

LANCELOT (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 ?

LANCELOT 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 By God’s sonties, ’twill be a hard way to hit. Can you tell me whether one Lancelot that dwells with him dwell with him or no?

LANCELOT Talk you of young Master Lancelot? (Aside) Mark me now, now will I raise the waters. (To Gobbo) Talk you of young Master Lancelot?

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.