The Merchant of Venice: Act 2

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

By this scimitar
That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince,
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,
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 he roars for prey,
To win thee, lady.

But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you, talk you of young Master Lancelet?

But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you, talk you of young Master Lancelet?

Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or a prop?

Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or a prop?

Father, I am glad you are come! Give me your present to one Master Bassanio, who indeed gives rare new liveries. If I serve not him, I will run as far as God has any ground.

See these letters delivered, put the liveries to making, and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging.

In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself, as your worship shall know by this honest old man, and though I say it, though old man, yet poor man, my father.

Here’s a small trifle of wives—alas, fifteen wives is nothing; eleven widows and nine maids is a simple coming-in for one man—and then to ’scape drowning thrice, and to be in peril of my life with the edge of a featherbed!

Well, if Fortune be a woman, she’s a good wench for this gear.

But hear thee, Gratiano,
Thou art too wild, too rude and bold of voice—
Parts that become thee happily enough,
And in such eyes as ours appear not faults.
But where thou art not known—why, there they show
Something too liberal.

Pray thee take pain
To allay with some cold drops of modesty
Thy skipping spirit, lest through thy wild behavior
I be misconstered in the place I go to,
And lose my hopes.

Pray thee take pain
To allay with some cold drops of modesty
Thy skipping spirit, lest through thy wild behavior
I be misconstered in the place I go to,
And lose my hopes.

If I do not put on a sober habit,
Talk with respect, and swear but now and then,
Wear prayer books in my pocket, look demurely,
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat, and sigh and say “amen,”
Use all the observance of civility
Like one well studied in a sad ostent
To please his grandam, never trust me more.

If I do not put on a sober habit,
Talk with respect, and swear but now and then,
Wear prayer books in my pocket, look demurely,
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat, and sigh and say “amen,”
Use all the observance of civility
Like one well studied in a sad ostent
To please his grandam, never trust me more.

Well, we shall see your bearing.

I would entreat you rather to put on
Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends
That purpose merriment.

But fare you well,
I have some business.

I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so.
Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil,
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness.

Come, go with me. Peruse this as thou goest;
[Handing him the letter.]
Fair Jessica shall be my torchbearer.

What, Jessica!—Thou shalt not gormandize
As thou hast done with me—what, Jessica!—
And sleep, and snore, and rend apparel out.

What, Jessica!—Thou shalt not gormandize
As thou hast done with me—what, Jessica!—
And sleep, and snore, and rend apparel out.

I am right loath to go.
There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest,
For I did dream of money bags tonight.

I beseech you, sir, go. My young master doth expect your reproach.

Hear you me, Jessica,
Lock up my doors, and when you hear the drum
And the vile squealing of the wry-necked fife,
Clamber not you up to the casements then,
Nor thrust your head into the public street
To gaze on Christian fools with varnished faces,
But stop my house’s ears (I mean my casements).

I will make fast the doors, and gild myself
With some more ducats, and be with you straight.

What says this leaden casket?
“Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.”
Must give, for what? For lead? Hazard for lead!

This casket threatens. Men that hazard all
Do it in hope of fair advantages.
A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross.
I’ll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead.

The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds
Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now
For princes to come view fair Portia.

’Twere damnation
To think so base a thought. It were too gross
To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave.
Or shall I think in silver she’s immured,
Being ten times undervalued to tried gold?

He came too late; the ship was under sail.
But there the Duke was given to understand
That in a gondola were seen together
Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica.

Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince.
If you choose that wherein I am contained,
Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemnized.

I am enjoined by oath to observe three things

To these injunctions everyone doth swear
That comes to hazard for my worthless self.

“Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.”
And well said, too; for who shall go about
To cozen fortune and be honorable
Without the stamp of merit?

How much low peasantry would then be gleaned
From the true seed of honor?

The fire seven times tried this;
Seven times tried that judgment is
That did never choose amiss.

The ancient saying is no heresy:
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.

Madam, there is alighted at your gate
A young Venetian, one that comes before
To signify th’ approaching of his lord,
From whom he bringeth sensible regreets