ACT 1
Scene 1

...jest be laughable.
Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano.

...my good lords.
Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? Say, when?
You grow exceeding strange. Must it be so?

...we must meet.
I will not fail you.

...that anything now?
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.

...tell me of?
’Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
How much I have disabled mine estate
By something showing a more swelling port
Than my faint means would grant continuance.
Nor do I now make moan to be abridged
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 gaged. To you, Antonio,
I owe the most in money and in love,
And from your love I have a warranty
To unburden all my plots and purposes
How to get clear of all the debts I owe.

...to your occasions.
In my school days, when I had lost one shaft,
I shot his fellow of the selfsame flight
The selfsame way with more advisèd watch
To find the other forth; and by adventuring both
I oft found both. I urge this childhood proof
Because what follows is pure innocence.
I owe you much, and, like a willful youth,
That which I owe is lost. But if you please
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.

...it. Therefore speak.
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
Renownèd suitors, and her sunny locks
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece,
Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos’ strond,
And many Jasons come in quest of her.
O my Antonio, had I but the means
To hold a rival place with one of them,
I have a mind presages me such thrift
That I should questionless be fortunate!

...for my sake.
They exit.

Scene 3

...at the door.
Enter Bassanio with Shylock the Jew.

...thousand ducats, well.
Ay, sir, for three months.

...three months, well.
For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall
be bound.

...become bound, well.
May you stead me? Will you pleasure me?
Shall I know your answer?

...and Antonio bound.
Your answer to that?

...a good man.
Have you heard any imputation to the
contrary?

...take his bond.
Be assured you may.

...speak with Antonio?
If it please you to dine with us.

... Enter Antonio.
This is Signior Antonio.

...I forgive him!
Shylock, do you hear?

...kind I offer.
This were kindness!

...in the Jew.
You shall not seal to such a bond for me!
I’ll rather dwell in my necessity.

...he grows kind.
I like not fair terms and a villain’s mind.

...before the day.
They exit.

ACT 2
Scene 2

...Jew any longer.
Enter Bassanio with Leonardo and a follower or two.
to an Attendant
You may do so, but let it be
so hasted that supper be ready at the farthest by five
of the clock. See these letters delivered, put the
liveries to making, and desire Gratiano to come
anon to my lodging.

...bless your Worship.
Gramercy. Wouldst thou aught with me?

...man, my father—
One speak for both. What would you?

...the matter, sir.
to Lancelet
I know thee well. Thou hast obtained thy suit.
Shylock thy master spoke with me this day,
And hath preferred thee, if it be preferment
To leave a rich Jew’s service, to become
The follower of so poor a gentleman.

...he hath “enough.”
Thou speak’st it well.—Go, father, with thy son.—
Take leave of thy old master, and inquire
My lodging out. To an Attendant.
Give him a livery
More guarded than his fellows’. See it done.
Bassanio and Leonardo talk apart.

...in the twinkling.
I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this. Handing him a paper.
These things being bought and orderly bestowed,
Return in haste, for I do feast tonight
My best esteemed acquaintance. Hie thee, go.

...walks. Signior Bassanio!
Gratiano!

...suit to you.
You have obtained it.

...you to Belmont.
Why then you must. 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.

...trust me more.
Well, we shall see your bearing.

...we do tonight.
No, that were pity.
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.

...at supper time.
They exit.

ACT 3
Scene 2

...our synagogue, Tubal.
Enter Bassanio, Portia, and all their trains, Gratiano, Nerissa.

...you from election.
Let me choose,
For as I am, I live upon the rack.

...with your love.
None but that ugly treason of mistrust,
Which makes me fear th’ enjoying of my love.
There may as well be amity and life
’Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love.

...do speak anything.
Promise me life and I’ll confess the truth.

...confess and live.
“Confess and love”
Had been the very sum of my confession.
O happy torment, when my torturer
Doth teach me answers for deliverance!
But let me to my fortune and the caskets.

...Ding, dong, bell.
So may the outward shows be least themselves;
The world is still deceived with ornament.
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt
But, being seasoned with a gracious voice,
Obscures the show of evil? In religion,
What damnèd error but some sober brow
Will bless it and approve it with a text,
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?
There is no vice so simple but assumes
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts.
How many cowards whose hearts are all as false
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars,
Who inward searched have livers white as milk,
And these assume but valor’s excrement
To render them redoubted. Look on beauty,
And you shall see ’tis purchased by the weight,
Which therein works a miracle in nature,
Making them lightest that wear most of it.
So are those crispèd snaky golden locks,
Which maketh such wanton gambols with the wind
Upon supposèd fairness, often known
To be the dowry of a second head,
The skull that bred them in the sepulcher.
Thus ornament is but the guilèd shore
To a most dangerous sea, the beauteous scarf
Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word,
The seeming truth which cunning times put on
To entrap the wisest. Therefore, then, thou gaudy gold,
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee.
Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge
’Tween man and man. But thou, thou meager lead,
Which rather threaten’st than dost promise aught,
Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence,
And here choose I. Joy be the consequence!
Bassanio is given a key.

...fear I surfeit.
Bassanio opens the lead casket.
What find I here?
Fair Portia’s counterfeit! What demigod
Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes?
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine,
Seem they in motion? Here are severed lips
Parted with sugar breath; so sweet a bar
Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs
The painter plays the spider, and hath woven
A golden mesh t’ entrap the hearts of men
Faster than gnats in cobwebs. But her eyes!
How could he see to do them? Having made one,
Methinks it should have power to steal both his
And leave itself unfurnished. Yet look how far
The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow
In underprizing it, so far this shadow
Doth limp behind the substance. Here’s the scroll,
The continent and summary of my fortune. He reads the scroll.
You that choose not by the view
Chance as fair and choose as true.
Since this fortune falls to you,
Be content and seek no new.
If you be well pleased with this
And hold your fortune for your bliss,
Turn you where your lady is,
And claim her with a loving kiss.
A gentle scroll! Fair lady, by your leave,
I come by note to give and to receive.
Like one of two contending in a prize
That thinks he hath done well in people’s eyes,
Hearing applause and universal shout,
Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt
Whether those peals of praise be his or no,
So, thrice-fair lady, stand I even so,
As doubtful whether what I see be true,
Until confirmed, signed, ratified by you.

...with this ring,
Handing him a ring.

...exclaim on you.
Madam, you have bereft me of all words.
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins,
And there is such confusion in my powers
As after some oration fairly spoke
By a belovèd prince there doth appear
Among the buzzing pleasèd multitude,
Where every something being blent together
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy
Expressed and not expressed. But when this ring
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence.
O, then be bold to say Bassanio’s dead!

...be married too.
With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.

...stand pleased withal.
And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith?

...faith, my lord.
Our feast shall be much honored in your marriage.

...Venetian friend Salerio?
Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither—
If that the youth of my new int’rest here
Have power to bid you welcome. To Portia.
By your leave,
I bid my very friends and countrymen,
Sweet Portia, welcome.

...reason for it.
Handing him a paper.

...him to you.
Ere I ope his letter,
I pray you tell me how my good friend doth.

...you his estate.
Bassanio opens the letter.

...paper brings you.
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 engaged myself to a dear friend,
Engaged 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 failed? 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?

...thus in trouble?
The dearest friend to me, the kindest man,
The best conditioned and unwearied spirit
In doing courtesies, and one in whom
The ancient Roman honor more appears
Than any that draws breath in Italy.

...he the Jew?
For me, three thousand ducats.

...of your friend.
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 cleared 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.

...business and begone!
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.
They exit.

ACT 4
Scene 1

...set you forth.
Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Antonio, Bassanio, Salerio, and Gratiano, with Attendants.

...Are you answered?
This is no answer, thou unfeeling man,
To excuse the current of thy cruelty.

...with my answers.
Do all men kill the things they do not love?

...would not kill?
Every offence is not a hate at first.

...Jew his will.
For thy three thousand ducats here is six.

...Call the messenger.
Good cheer, Antonio! What, man, courage yet!
The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all
Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood!

...of his shoe.
Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?

...discharge the money?
Yes. Here I tender it for him in the court,
Yea, twice the sum. If that will not suffice,
I will be bound to pay it ten times o’er
On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart.
If this will not suffice, it must appear
That malice bears down truth. To the Duke.
And I beseech you,
Wrest once the law to your authority.
To do a great right, do a little wrong,
And curb this cruel devil of his will.

...all my heart.
Antonio, I am married to a wife
Which is as dear to me as life itself,
But life itself, my wife, and all the world
Are not with me esteemed above thy life.
I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all
Here to this devil, to deliver you.

...the Christian go.
Here is the money.

...let me go.
I have it ready for thee. Here it is.

...bound to him.
to Portia as Balthazar
Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend
Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted
Of grievous penalties, in lieu whereof
Three thousand ducats due unto the Jew
We freely cope your courteous pains withal.

...begins to exit.
Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further.
Take some remembrance of us as a tribute,
Not as fee. Grant me two things, I pray you:
Not to deny me, and to pardon me.

...deny me this.
This ring, good sir? Alas, it is a trifle.
I will not shame myself to give you this.

...mind to it.
There’s more depends on this than on the value.
The dearest ring in Venice will I give you,
And find it out by proclamation.
Only for this, I pray you pardon me.

...should be answered.
Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife,
And when she put it on, she made me vow
That I should neither sell nor give nor lose it.

...your wife’s commandment.
Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him.
Give him the ring, and bring him if thou canst
Unto Antonio’s house. Away, make haste.
Come, you and I will thither presently,
And in the morning early will we both
Fly toward Belmont.—Come, Antonio.
They exit.

ACT 5
Scene 1

...sun is hid.
Enter Bassanio, Antonio, Gratiano, and their followers.
We should hold day with the Antipodes
If you would walk in absence of the sun.

...Nerissa talk aside.
I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my friend.
This is the man, this is Antonio,
To whom I am so infinitely bound.

...mad at it.
aside
Why, I were best to cut my left hand off
And swear I lost the ring defending it.

...received of me.
If I could add a lie unto a fault,
I would deny it, but you see my finger
Hath not the ring upon it. It is gone.

...again see mine!
Sweet Portia,
If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
If you did know for whom I gave the ring,
And would conceive for what I gave the ring,
And how unwillingly I left the ring,
When naught would be accepted but the ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure.

...had the ring!
No, by my honor, madam, by my soul,
No woman had it, but a civil doctor,
Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me
And begged the ring, the which I did deny him
And suffered him to go displeased away,
Even he that had held up the very life
Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady?
I was enforced to send it after him.
I was beset with shame and courtesy.
My honor would not let ingratitude
So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady,
For by these blessèd candles of the night,
Had you been there, I think you would have begged
The ring of me to give the worthy doctor.

...welcome notwithstanding.
Portia, forgive me this enforcèd wrong,
And in the hearing of these many friends
I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes,
Wherein I see myself—

...oath of credit.
Nay, but hear me.
Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear
I never more will break an oath with thee.

...keep this ring.
By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor!

...are all amazed.
She hands a paper to Bassanio.

...I am dumb.
Were you the doctor and I knew you not?

...be a man.
to Portia
Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow.
When I am absent, then lie with my wife.

...safe Nerissa’s ring.
They exit.