Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best worthy.
Pompion the Great: for mine own part, I know
not the degree of the worthy; but I am to stand
Biron. Go, bid them prepare.
[for him.
Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will
take some care.
[Exit COSTARD.
approach.
[some policy
Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord: and 'tis
To have one show worse than the king's and
Enter NATHANIEL arm'd, for Alexander. Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander;
King. Biron, they will shame us, let them not By east, west, north, and south, I spread my con
Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words.
My 'scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander.
Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for
Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the
world's commander;-
[Alisander.
Boyet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so,
Biron. Pompey the great,
Cost.
Your servant, and Costard.
Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away
Alisander.
Cost. O, sir, [TO NATH.] you have overthrown Alisander the conqueror! You will be scraped
out of the painted cloth for this your lion, that holds his poll-ax sitting on a close-stool, will be given to A-jax: he will be the ninth worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. [NATH. retires.]
[ARMADO converses with the King, and delivers him a paper. Prin. Doth this man serve God? Biron. Why ask you? Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's There, an't shall please you; a foolish mild Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey man; an honest man, look you, and soon monarch: for, I protest, the schoolmaster is ex- dash'd! He is a marvellous good neighbour, in ceeding fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain: sooth; and a very good bowler: but, for AliBut we will put it, as they say, to fortuna della sander, alas, you see how 'tis: a little o'er
guera. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal [Exit ARMADO.
King. Here is like to be a good presence of worthies: He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the great; the parish curate, Alexander: Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Machabæus.
And if these four worthies in their first show
thrive,
[other five.
These four will change habits, and present the
Biron. There is five in the first show.
King. You are deceiv'd, 'tis not so.
Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-
priest, the fool, and the boy.-
A bare throw at novum; and the whole world
[vein.
Cannot prick out five such, take each one in his
King. The ship is under sail, and here she
comes amain.
parted:-But there are worthies a coming will
Speak their mind in some other sort.
Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey.
Enter HOLOFERNES arm'd, for Judas, and MOTH
arm'd, for Hercules.
Hol. Great Hercul s is presented by this imp,
Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed
Dum. Judas Machabæus clipt, is plain Judas.
Biron. A kissing traitor; -How art thou
And now, forward; for we have put thee in countenance.
Hol. You have put me out of countenance.
Biron. False: we have given thee faces.
Hol. But you have out-fac'd them all.
Biron. An thou wert a lion, we would do so.
Boyet. Therefore, as he is, an ass, let him go.
And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou
Dum. For the latter end of his name. [stay?
Biron. For the ass to the Jude; give it him:-
Hoi. This is not generous, not gentle, not
humble.
Boyet. A light for monsieur Judas; it grows
dark, he may stumble.
[been baited |
Prin. Alas, poor Machabæus, how hath he
Enter ARMADO arm'd, for Hector.
Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles; here comes
Hector in arms.
Dum. Though my mocks come home by me,
I will now be merry.
King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of
Boyet. But is this Hector?
[this.
Dum. I think, Hector was not so clean-tim-
Long. His leg is too big for Hector. [ber'd.
Dum. More calf, certain.
Boyet. No; he is best indued in the small.
Biron. This cannot be Hector.
Dum. He's a god or a painter; for he makes
Arm. The armipotent Mars, of lances the al-
Dum. A gilt nutmeg.
Biron. A lemon.
Long. Stuck with cloves.
Dum. No, cloven.
Arm. Peace.
The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;
A man so breath'd, that certain ke would fight, yea
From morn till night, out of his pavilion.
Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.
Long. I must rather give it the rein; for it
runs against Hector.
Dum. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound.
Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly than will sup a flea.
Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee.
Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a north-
ern man; I'll slash; I'll do it by the sword:-
I pray you, let me borrow my arms again.
Dum. Room for the incensed worthies.
Cost. I'll do it in my shirt.
Dum. Most resolute Pompey!
Moth, Master, let me take you a buttonhole Do you not see, Pompey is uncasing for the What mean you? you will lose your reputation. Arm. Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my shirt.
Dum. You may not deny it; Pompey hath made the challenge.
Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will.
Biron. What reason have you for't?
Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no
shirt; I go woolward for penance.
Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen: since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none, but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta's; and that 'a wears next his heart for a favour. Enter MERCADE.
Mer. God save you, madam.
Prin. Welcome, Mercade;
But that thou interrupt'st our merriment.
Mer. I am sorry. madam; for the news I
Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father-
Prin. Dead, for my life.
Mer. Even so; my tale is told.
tcloud.
Biron. Worthies, away; the scene begins to
Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free
breath: I have seen the day of wrong through
the little hole of discretion, and I will right
myself like a soldier.
[Exeunt Worthies.
King. How fares your majesty?
Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night.
King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay.
Prin. Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious
lords,
Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; For all your fair endeavours; and entreat, sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried: Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe when he breath'd, he was a man-But I will In your rich wisdom, to excuse, or hide, forward with my device: Sweet royalty, [to The liberal opposition of our spirits: the Princess.] bestow on me the sense of hear- If over-boldly we have borne ourselves ing. [BIRON whispers COSTARD. In the converse of breath, your gentleness Prin. Speak, brave Hector; we are much Was guilty of it.-Farewell, worthy lord! delighted.
Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper.
Boyet. Loves her by the foot.
Dum. He may not by the yard.
Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,
A heavy heart bears not an humble tongue;
Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtain'd.
[form King. The extreme parts of time extremely All causes to the purpose of his speed;
Cost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is And often, at his very loose, decides
gone; she is two months on her way.
Arm. What meanest thon?
Cost. 'Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan, the poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in her belly already; 'tis yours. Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among poten
Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd, for Jaquenetta that is quick by him; and hang'd, for Pompey that is dead by him.
Dum. Most rare Pompey!
Royet. Renowned Pompey!
That which long process could not arbitrate:
And though the mourning brow of progeny
Forbid the smiling courtesy of love,
The holy suit which fain it would convince;
Yet, since love's argument was first on foot,
Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it
[lost,
From what it purpos'd; since, to wall friends
Is not by much so wholesome, profitable,
As to rejoice at friends but newly found.
Prin. I understand you not; my griefs are
double.
[ear of grief;
Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the
Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great And by these badges understand the king.
Pompey! Pompey the huge!
Dum. Hector trembles.
Biron. Pompey is moved:-More Ates, more
Ates; stir them on! stir them on!
Dum. Hector will challenge him.
For your fair sakes have we neglected time,
Play'd foul play with our oaths; your beauty,
Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours
Even to the opposed end of our intents;
And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,-
As love is full of unbefitting strains;
All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain;
Form'd by the eye, and therefore, like the eve,
Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forms,
Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll
To every varied object in his glance:
Which party-coated presence of loose love
Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities,
Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested us to make: Therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
By being once false for ever to be true
To those that make us both,-fair ladies, you
And even that falsehood, in itself a sin,
Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace.
Prin. We have receiv'd your letters
Your favours, the ambassadors of love;
And, in our maiden council, rated them
At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy,
As bombast, and as lining to the time:
But more devout than this, in our respects,
Have we not been; and therefore met your loves
In their own fashion, like a merriment.
Dum. Our letters, madam, show'd much more
than jest.
Long. So did our looks.
Ros.
We did not quote them so.
King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour,
Grant us your loves.
Prin.
A time, methinks, too short
To make a world-without-end bargain in :
No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur'd much,
Full of dear guiltiness: and therefore this,-
If for my love (as there is no such cause)
You will do aught, this shall you do for me:
Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed
To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world;
There stay, until the twelve celestial signs
Have brought about their annual reckoning:
If this austere insociable life
Change not your offer made in heat of blood:
If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds,
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love;
But that it bear this trial, and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,
Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts,
And, by this virgin palm, now kissing thine,
I will be thine; and, till that instant, shut
My woful self up in mourning house;
Raining the tears of lamentation,
For the remembrance of my father's death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part;
Neither entitled in the other's heart.
King. If this, or more than this, I would deny,
To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,
The sudden hand of death close up mine eye!
Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast.
Biron. And what to me, my love? and what
I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers say:
Come when the king doth to my lady come,
Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some.
Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till
Kath. Yetswear not, lest you be forsworn again.
Long. What says Maria?
Mar.
At the twelvemonth's end,
I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend.
Long. I'll stay with patience; but the time is
long.
Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young.
Biron. Studies my lady? mistress, look on me.
Behold the window of mine heart, mine eye,
What humble suit attends thy answer there:
Impose some service on me for thy love.
Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Biron,
Before I saw you: and the world's large tongue
Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks,
Full of comparisons and wounding flouts;
Which you on all estates will execute,
That lie within the mercy of your wit: [brain;
To weed this wormwood from your fruitiul
And, therewithal to win me if you please
(Without the which, I am not to be won),
You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day
Visit the speechless sick, and still converse
With groaning wretches; and your task shall be,
With all the fierce endeavour of your wit,
To enforce the pained impotent to smile.
Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat
It cannot be; it is impossible: [of death!
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
[spirit,
Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing
Whose influence is begot of that loose grace,
Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools:
A jest's prosperity lies in the ear
Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears,
Deafd with the clamours of their own dear
groans,
Will hear your idle scorns, continue then,
And I will have you, and that fault withal:
But, if they will not, throw away that spirit,
And I shall find you empty of that fault,
Right joyful of your reformation.
Biron. A twelvemonth? well, befall what will I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. [befall, Prin. Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my [To the King. King. No, madam; we will bring you on your way. [play: Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old Jack hath not Jill: these ladies' courtesy Might well have made our sport a comedy. King. Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and And then 'twill end. [a day. Biron, That's too long for a play.
Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,-
Prin. Was not that Hector?
Dum. The worthy knight of Troy.
Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave: I am a votary; I have vowed to Jaque
netta to hold the plough for her sweet love three
vears. But, most esteemed greatness, will you bear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled in praise of the owl and the cuckoo? it should have followed in the end of our show. King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so. Aim. Holla! approach.
Enter HOLOFERNES, NATH., MOTH, COSTARD, and others. This side is Hiems, winter; this Ver, the spring;
Winter When icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipp'd and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-who;
To-whit, to-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keell the pot.
IV.
When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-who:
To-whit, to-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keell the pot.
Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. You, that way; we, this [Exeunt. way.
Merchant of Venice.
Persons Represented.
ANTONIO, the Merchant of Venice.
BASSANIO, his Friend.
SALANIO,
SALARINO,
GRATIANO,
OLD GOBBO, Father to Launcelot.
SALERIO, A Messenger from Venice.
LEONARDO, Servant to Bassanio.
Friends to Antonio and Bassanio. PORTIA, a rich Heiress.
LORENZO, in love with Jessica.
NERISSA, her Waiting-Maid.
JESSICA, Daughter to Shylock
TUBAL, a Jew, his Friend.
Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Jus
LAUNCELOT Gовво, а Clown, Servant to Shylock. tice, Jailer, Servants, and other Attendants.
SCENE, partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the Seat of Portia, on the Continent.
Art First.
SCENE I. Venice. A Street.
Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SALANIO,
Ant. 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.
Salar. 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 curt'sy to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.
Yılan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture
The better part of my affections would [forth,
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.
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 high-top lower than her ribs,
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church,
And see the holy edifice of stone,
And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks;
Which touching but my gentle vessel's side,
Would scatter all her spices on the stream;
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks;
And, in a word, but even now worth this,
And nowworth nothing? Shall I have the thought
To think on this; and shall I lack the thought,
That such a thing, bechanc'd, would make me
But, tell not me; I know, Antonio
Is sad to think upon his merchandise.
Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it,
My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,
Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
Upon the fortune of this present year:
Therefore, my merchandise makes me not sad.
Salan. Why then you are in love.
Ant.
Fye, fye.
Salan. Not in love neither? Then let's say,
you are sad,
Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy
For you, to laugh, and leap, and say, you are
merry,
Gra. Well, keep me company but two years tongue. Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own Ant. Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear. Gra. Thanks, i'faith; for silence is only commendable
[Janus, Ina neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. [Exeunt GRA. and Lor.
Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed
Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time:
Some that will evermore peep through their
And laugh, like parrots at a bagpiper: [eyes,
And other of such vinegar aspect,
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.
Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO.
Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble
kinsman,
Gratiano, and Lorenzo: Fare you well:
We leave you now with better company.
Ant. Is that any thing now?
Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing more than any man in all Venice: His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; you shall seek all day ere you find them; and, when you have them, they are not worth the search.
Ant. Well; tell me now, what lady is this sane
To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,
That you to-day promis'd to tell me of?
Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
How much I have disabled mine estate,
Salar. I would have staid till I had made you By something showing a more swelling port
If worthier friends had not prevented me.
Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard.
I take it, your own business calls on you,
And you embrace the occasion to depart.
Salar. Good morrow, my good lords.
Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh?
Say, when?
Yon grow exceeding strange: Must it be so?
Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on
yours.
[Exeunt SALAR. and SALAN.
Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found
Antonio,
We two will leave you: but, at dinner time,
I pray you, have in mind where we must meet.
Bass. I will not fail you.
Gra. You look not well, signior Antonio:
You have too much respect upon the world:
They lose it, that do buy it with much care.
Believe me you are marvellously chang'd.
Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gra-
tiano;
A stage, where every man must play a part,
And mine a sad one.
Let me play the fool:
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come;
And let my liver rather heat with wine,
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? [dice
Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaun-
By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks;-
There are a sort of men, whose visages
Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond;
And do a wilful stillness entertain,
With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;
As who should say, I am Sir Oracle,
And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!
O, my Antonio, I do know of these,
That therefore only are reputed wise,
For saying nothing; who, I am very sure,
If they should speak, would almost damn those
[fools.
Than my faint means would grant continuance;
Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd
From such a noble rate; but my chief care
Is, to come fairly off from the great debts,
Wherein my time, something too prodigal,
Hath left me gag'd: To you, Antonio,
I owe the most, in money and in love;
And from your love I have a warranty
To unburthen all my plots, and purposes,
How to get clear of all the debts I owe.
Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know
And, if it stand, as you yourself still do, [it;
Within the eye of honour, be assur'd,
My purse, my person, my extremest means,
Lie all unlock'd to your occasions.
Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one
I shot his fellow of the selfsame flight [shaft,
The selfsame way, with more advised watch,
To find the other forth; and, by advent'ring both,
I oft found both: I urge this childhood proof,
Because what follows is pure innocence.
I owe you much; and, like a wilful youth,
That which I owe is lost but if you pleas
To shoot another arrow that self way
Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,
As I will watch the aim, or to find both,
Or bring your latter hazard back again,
And thankfully rest debtor for the first.
Ant. You know me well; and herein spend
To wind about my love with circumstance:
And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong,
In making question of my uttermost,
Than if you had made waste of all I have:
Then do but say to me what I should do.
That in your knowledge may by me be done,
And I am prest unto it: therefore, speak.
Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left,
And she is fair, and, fairer than that word,
Of wondrous virtues: sometimes from her eyes
I did receive fair speechless messages:
Her name is Portia; nothing undervalued
To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia.
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth;
For the four winds blow in from every coast
Renowned suitors: and her sunny locks
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece:
Which makes her seat of Belmont, Colchos'
strand,
And many Jasons come in quest of her;
ears,
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers
I'll tell thee more of this another time:
But fish not, with this melancholy bait,
For this fool's gudgeon, this opinion.-
Come, good Lorenzo-Fare ye well a while:
I'll end my exhortation after dinner. [time: O my Antonio, had I but the means
Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner, To hold a rival place with one of them,
I must be one of these same dumb wise men, I have a mind presages me such thrift,
For Gratiano never lets me speak.
That I should questionless be fortunate.
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