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      There are some shrowd contents in yond same paper

      That steals the color from Bassanio’s cheek—

      Some dear friend dead, else nothing in the world

      Could turn so much the constitution

      Of any constant man. What, worse and worse!

      With leave, Bassanio, I am half yourself,

      And I must freely have the half of any thing

      That this same paper brings you.

       Bass.

      O sweet Portia,

      Here are a few of the unpleasant’st words

      That ever blotted paper! Gentle lady,

      When I did first impart my love to you,

      I freely told you all the wealth I had

      Ran in my veins: I was a gentleman;

      And then I told you true. And yet, dear lady,

      Rating myself at nothing, you shall see

      How much I was a braggart: when I told you

      My state was nothing, I should then have told you

      That I was worse than nothing; for indeed

      I have engag’d myself to a dear friend,

      Engag’d my friend to his mere enemy,

      To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady,

      The paper as the body of my friend,

      And every word in it a gaping wound

      Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio?

      Hath all his ventures fail’d? What, not one hit?

      From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England,

      From Lisbon, Barbary, and India,

      And not one vessel scape the dreadful touch

      Of merchant-marring rocks?

       Sal.

      Not one, my lord.

      Besides, it should appear, that if he had

      The present money to discharge the Jew,

      He would not take it. Never did I know

      A creature that did bear the shape of man

      So keen and greedy to confound a man.

      He plies the Duke at morning and at night,

      And doth impeach the freedom of the state,

      If they deny him justice. Twenty merchants,

      The Duke himself, and the magnificoes

      Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him,

      But none can drive him from the envious plea

      Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond.

       Jes.

      When I was with him I have heard him swear

      To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen,

      That he would rather have Antonio’s flesh

      Than twenty times the value of the sum

      That he did owe him; and I know, my lord,

      If law, authority, and power deny not,

      It will go hard with poor Antonio.

       Por.

      Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble?

       Bass.

      The dearest friend to me, the kindest man,

      The best-condition’d and unwearied spirit

      In doing courtesies, and one in whom

      The ancient Roman honor more appears

      Than any that draws breath in Italy.

       Por.

      What sum owes he the Jew?

       Bass.

      For me, three thousand ducats.

       Por.

      What, no more?

      Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond;

      Double six thousand, and then treble that,

      Before a friend of this description

      Shall lose a hair through Bassanio’s fault.

      First go with me to church and call me wife,

      And then away to Venice to your friend;

      For never shall you lie by Portia’s side

      With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold

      To pay the petty debt twenty times over.

      When it is paid, bring your true friend along.

      My maid Nerissa and myself mean time

      Will live as maids and widows. Come away!

      For you shall hence upon your wedding-day.

      Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer—

      Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear.

      But let me hear the letter of your friend.

      [Bass. (Reads.)] “Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all miscarried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low, my bond to the Jew is forfeit; and since in paying it, it is impossible I should live, all debts are clear’d between you and I, if I might but see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your pleasure; if your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter.”

       Por.

      O love! dispatch all business and be gone.

       Bass.

      Since I have your good leave to go away,

      I will make haste; but till I come again,

      No bed shall e’er be guilty of my stay,

      Nor rest be interposer ’twixt us twain.

       Exeunt.

       ¶

       Richard Westall, p. — George Noble, e.

[Scene III]

       Enter [Shylock] the Jew and [Solanio] and Antonio and the Jailer.

       Shy.

      Jailer, look to him, tell not me of mercy.

      This is the fool that lent out money gratis.

      Jailer, look to him.

       Ant.

      Hear me yet, good Shylock.

       Shy.

      I’ll have my bond, speak not against my bond,

      I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond.

      Thou call’dst me dog before thou hadst a cause,

      But since I am

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