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As like almost to Claudio as himself.

       [Unmuffles CLAUDIO.]

       DUKE.

       If he be like your brother [to ISABELLA], for his sake

       Is he pardon’d; and for your lovely sake,

       Give me your hand and say you will be mine;

       He is my brother too: but fitter time for that.

       By this Lord Angelo perceives he’s safe;

       Methinks I see a quick’ning in his eye.—

       Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well”:

       Look that you love your wife; her worth worth yours.—

       I find an apt remission in myself;

       And yet here’s one in place I cannot pardon.—

       You, sirrah [to Lucio], that knew me for a fool, a coward,

       One all of luxury, an ass, a madman;

       Wherein have I so deserved of you

       That you extol me thus?

       LUCIO. Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according to the trick. If you will hang me for it, you may; but I had rather it would please you I might be whipped.

       DUKE.

       Whipp’d first, sir, and hang’d after.—

       Proclaim it, Provost, round about the city,

       If any woman wrong’d by this lewd fellow,—

       As I have heard him swear himself there’s one

       Whom he begot with child,—let her appear,

       And he shall marry her: the nuptial finish’d,

       Let him be whipp’d and hang’d.

       LUCIO. I beseech your highness, do not marry me to a whore! Your highness said even now I made you a duke; good my lord, do not recompense me in making me a cuckold.

       DUKE.

       Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her.

       Thy slanders I forgive; and therewithal

       Remit thy other forfeits.—Take him to prison;

       And see our pleasure herein executed.

       LUCIO. Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to death, whipping, and hanging.

       DUKE.

       Slandering a prince deserves it.—

       [Exeunt Officers with LUCIO.]

       She, Claudio, that you wrong’d, look you restore.—

       Joy to you, Mariana!—Love her, Angelo;

       I have confess’d her, and I know her virtue.—

       Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness

       There’s more behind that is more gratulate.

       Thanks, Provost, for thy care and secrecy;

       We shall employ thee in a worthier place.—

       Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home

       The head of Ragozine for Claudio’s:

       The offence pardons itself.—Dear Isabel,

       I have a motion much imports your good;

       Whereto if you’ll a willing ear incline,

       What’s mine is yours, and what is yours is mine:—

       So, bring us to our palace; where we’ll show

       What’s yet behind that’s meet you all should know.

       [Exeunt.]

       THE END

      THE MERCHANT OF VENICE

       Table of Contents

      By William Shakespeare

       DRAMATIS PERSONAE

       THE DUKE OF VENICE

       THE PRINCE OF MOROCCO, suitor to Portia

       THE PRINCE OF ARRAGON, suitor to Portia

       ANTONIO, a merchant of Venice

       BASSANIO, his friend

       SALANIO, friend to Antonio and Bassanio

       SALARINO, friend to Antonio and Bassanio

       GRATIANO, friend to Antonio and Bassanio

       LORENZO, in love with Jessica

       SHYLOCK, a rich Jew

       TUBAL, a Jew, his friend

       LAUNCELOT GOBBO, a clown, servant to Shylock

       OLD GOBBO, father to Launcelot

       LEONARDO, servant to Bassanio

       BALTHASAR, servant to Portia

       STEPHANO, servant to Portia

       PORTIA, a rich heiress

       NERISSA, her waiting-maid

       JESSICA, daughter to Shylock

       Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice,

       Gaoler, Servants to Portia, and other Attendants

       SCENE: Partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the seat of Portia, on the Continent

       ACT 1.

      SCENE I. Venice. A street

       [Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SALANIO]

       ANTONIO.

       In sooth, I know not why I am so sad;

       It wearies me; you say it wearies you;

       But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,

       What stuff ‘tis made of, whereof it is born,

       I am to learn;

       And such a want-wit sadness makes of me

       That I have much ado to know myself.

       SALARINO.

       Your mind is tossing on the ocean;

       There where your argosies, with portly sail—

       Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood,

       Or as it were the pageants of the sea—

       Do overpeer the petty traffickers,

       That curtsy to them, do them reverence,

       As they fly by them with their woven wings.

       SALANIO.

       Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth,

       The better part of my affections would

       Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still

       Plucking the grass to know where sits the wind,

       Peering in maps for ports, and piers, and roads;

       And every object that might make me fear

       Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt

       Would make me sad.

       SALARINO.

       My wind, cooling my broth

       Would blow me to an ague, when I thought

       What harm a wind too great might do at sea.

       I should not see the sandy hour-glass run

       But I should think of shallows and of flats,

       And see my wealthy Andrew dock’d in sand,

       Vailing her

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