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If you repay me not on fuch 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 it pleaseth me.
Anth. Content, in Faith, I'll seal to such a Bond,
And say there is much Kindness in the Jew.
Baf. You shall not seal to such a Bond for me,
I'll rather dwell in my Neceffity.

Anth. 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,

Shy. O Father Abraham, what these Christians are ! Whose own hard Dealing teaches them suspe & 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.

Anth. Yes, Shylock, I will feal unto this Bond.
Shy. 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.

[Exit.

Anth. Hie thee, gentle Jew. This Hebrew will turn

Christian, he grows kind.

Baff. I like not fair Terms, and a Villain's Mind.

Anth. Come on, in this there can be no dismay,

My Ships come home a Month before the Day. [Exeunt,

!

ACT.

ACT II. SCENE I.

SCENE Belmont.

Enter Morochius a Tawny-Moor all in White, and three or four Followers accordingly, with Portia, Neriffa, and her Train. Flo. Cornets.

Mor.

M

Islike me not for my Complection,

The shadowed Livery of the burnish'd Sun,

To whom I am a Neighbour, and near bred.
Bring me the fairest Creature Northward born,
Where Phœbus Fire scarce thaws the Isicles, "
And let us make Incifion 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.
Por. In terms of Choice I am not folely led

By nice Direction of a Maiden's Eyes:
Befides, the Lottery of my Destiny
Bars me the right of voluntary chusing:
But if my Father had not scanted me;
And hedg'd me by his wit to yield my felf
His Wife, who wins me by that means I told you,
Your felf, Renowned Prince, then stood as fair
As any Comer I have look'd on yet
For my Affection.

Mor. Even for that I thank you,
Therefore I pray you lead me to the Caskets
To try my Fortune: By this Scimitar,
That flew the Sophy, and a Persian Prince,
That won three Fields of Sultan Solyman,
I would o'er-stare the sternest Eyes that look,
Out-brave the Heart most daring on the Earth,
Pluck the young fucking Cubs from the She-Bear,
Yea, mock the Lion when he roars for Prey,

To

To win the Lady. But alas, the while,
If Hercules and Lychas 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 fo may I, blind Fortune leading me,
Mass that which one unworthier may attain,
And dye with grieving.

Por. You must take your Chance,

And either not attempt to chuse at all,

Or swear before you chuse, if you chuse wrong,
Never to speak to Lady afterward

In way of Marriage; therefore be advis'd.

Mor. Nor will not; come bring me unto my Chance. Por. First forward to the Temple, after Dinner

Your hazard shall be made.

Mor. Good Fortune then,

To make me blest or cursed'st among Men,

SCENE II. Venice.

Enter Launcelot alone.

[Cornets [Exeunt.

Laun. Certainly, my Confcience will ferve me to run from this Jew my Master: The Fiend is at my Elbow, and attempts me, faying to me, Job, Launcelot Job, good Launcelot, or good Job, or good Launcelot Job, use your Legs, take the start, run away: My Confcience fays no; take heed, honest Launcelot, take heed, honeft Job, or as aforefaid, honest Launcelot Job, do not run, scorn running with thy Heels: Well, the most couragious Fiend bids me pack, Via says the Fiend, away says the Fiend, for the Heav'ns 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 honeft Man's Son, or rather an honest Woman's Son for indeed my Father did fomething smack, something grow too; he had a kind of taste Well, my Confcience fays, Launcelot budge not; budge, says the Fiend; budge not, says my Conscience; Conscience, fay I, you counsel well; Fiend, say I, you counsel well; to be rul'd by my Confcience 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 Confcience is a kind of hard Conscience, to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew; the Fiend gives the more friendly counfel; I will run, Fiend, my Heels are at your Commandment, I will run.

ence

Enter Old Gobbo with a Basket.

Gob. Master Young-man, you, I pray you, which is the way to Master Jew's!

Laun. O Heav'ns, this is my true begotten Father, who being more than sand-blind, high gravel-blind, knows me not; I will try Confusions with him.

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

Laun. Turn upon 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.

Gob. By God's fonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit; can you tell me whither one Launcelet that dwells with him, dwell with him or no?

Laun. Talk you of young Master Launcelot? Mark me now, now will I raise the Waters; talk you of young Master Launcelot?

Gob. No Master, Sir, but a poor Man's Son, his Father, thơ' I say't, is an honest exceeding poor Man, and God be thanked well to live.

Laun. Well, let his Father be what a will, we talk of young Master Launcelot.

Gob. Your Worship's Friend and Launcelot.

Laun. But I pray you Ergo, old Man, Ergo I beseech you, talk you of young Master Launcelot ?

Gob. Of Launcelot, an't please your Mastership.

Laun. Ergo Master Launcelot, talk not of Master Launcelot Father, for the young Gentleman according to Fates and Destinies, and such odd Sayings, the Sifters three, and such Branches of Learning, is indeed deceased, or as you would say in plain terms, gone to Heaven.

Gob.

Gob. Marry God forbid, the Boy was the very Staff of my Age, my very Prop.

Laun. Do I look like a Cudgel or a Hovel-post, a Staff or a Prop? Do you know me, Father ?

Gob. 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?

Laun. Do you not know me, Father?

Gob. Alack Sir, I am fand-blind, I know you not.

Laun. Nay, indeed, if you had your Eyes you might fail of the knowing me: It is a wife 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 not.

Gob. Pray you Sir stand up, I am fure you are not Launcelot my Boy.

Laun. 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.

Gob. I cannot think you are my Son.

Laun. 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.

Gob. Her Name is Margery indeed, I'll be sworn if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own Flesh and Blood: Lord worship'd might he be! what a Beard haft thou got; thou haft got more hair on thy Chin, than Dobbin my Phil-horse has on his Tail.

Laun. It should feem 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.

Gob. Lord how art thou chang'd! how dost thou and thy Master agree? I have brought him a Present; how gree you now?

Laun. Well, well, but for mine own part, as I have fet 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 famish'd 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 Baffanio, who

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