The Merchant Of Venice

William Shakespeare

• Editorial: HarperPerennial Classics
• Año: 2014
• ISBN:
  9781443443500
• Categoría: Literature
• Categoría: Drama

The beautiful Portia has many suitors within Venetian society, among them the young nobleman Bassanio, who has squandered his fortune. Desperate to win Portia's heart, Bassanio borrows money from Shylock, the Jewish moneylender, and turns to Antonio, a wealthy merchant who has helped him in the past, to guarantee the loan. Shylock agrees, only with harsh terms—if Antonio does not repay the loan by the due date, Shylock will take a pound of Antonio's flesh.

Known as "The Bard of Avon, " William Shakespeare is arguably the greatest English-language writer known. Enormously popular during his life, Shakespeare's works continue to resonate more than three centuries after his death, as has his influence on theatre and literature. Shakespeare's innovative use of character, language, and experimentation with romance as tragedy served as a foundation for later playwrights and dramatists, and some of his most famous lines of dialogue have become part of everyday speech.

HarperPerennial Classics brings great works of literature to life in digital format, upholding the highest standards in ebook production and celebrating reading in all its forms. Look for more titles in the HarperPerennial Classics collection to build your digital library.

ACT TWO

SCENE I. Belmont. Portia’s house.

Flourish of cornets. Enter the PRINCE OF MOROCCO, a tawny Moor all in white, and three or four Followers accordingly, with PORTIA, NERISSA, and Train.

MOROCCO Mislike me not for my complexion,

The shadowed livery of the burnish’d sun,

To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred.

Bring me the fairest creature northward born,

[5]

Where Phoebus’ fire scarce thaws the icicles,

And let us make incision 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

[10]

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.

PORTIA In terms of choice I am not solely led

By nice direction of a maiden’s eyes;

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Besides, the lott’ry of my destiny

Bars me the right of voluntary choosing.

But, if my father had not scanted me,

And hedg’d me by his wit to yield myself

His wife who wins me by that means I told you,

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Yourself, renowned Prince, then stood as fair

As any comer I have look’d on yet

For my affection.

MOROCCO Even for that I thank you.

Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets

To try my fortune. By this scimitar,

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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,

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Yea, mock the lion when ’a roars for prey,

To win thee, lady. But, alas the while!

If Hercules and Lichas play at dice

Which is the better man, the greater throw

May turn by fortune from the weaker hand.

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So is Alcides beaten by his page;

And so may I, blind Fortune leading me,

Miss that which one unworthier may attain,

And die with grieving.

PORTIA You must take your chance,

And either not attempt to choose at all,

[40]

Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong,

Never to speak to lady afterward

In way of marriage; therefore be advis’d.

MOROCCO Nor will not; come, bring me unto my chance.

PORTIA First, forward to the temple. After dinner

Your hazard shall be made.

[45]

MOROCCO Good fortune then,

To make me blest or cursed’st among men!

[Comets, and exeunt.

SCENE II. Venice. A street.

Enter LAWCELOT GOBBO.

LAUNCELOT Certainly my conscience will serve me to run from this Jew my master. The fiend is at mine elbow and tempts me, saying to me ‘Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot’ or ‘good Gobbo’ or ‘good Launcelot Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away’. My conscience says ‘No; take heed, honest Launcelot, take heed, honest Gobbo’ or, as aforesaid, honest Launcelot Gobbo, do not run; scorn running with thy heels’. Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack. ‘Via!’ says the fiend; ‘away!’ says the fiend. ‘For the heavens, 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 honest man’s son’ or rather ‘an honest woman’s son’; for indeed my father did something smack, something grow to, he had a kind of taste – well, my conscience says ‘Launcelot, budge not’. ‘Budge’ says the fiend. ‘Budge not’ says my conscience. ‘Conscience,’ say I ‘you counsel well.’ ‘Fiend,’ say I ‘you counsel well.’ To be rul’d by my conscience, I should stay with the Jew my master, who – God bless the mark! – is a kind of devil; and, to ran 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 conscience is but a kind of hard conscience to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The fiend gives the more friendly counsel. I will ran, fiend; my heels are at your commandment; I will ran.

Enter OLD GOBBO, with a basket.

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OLD GOBBO Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew’s?

LAUNCELOT [Aside] O heavens! This is my true-begotten father, who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel blind, knows me not. I will try confusions with him.

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OLD GOBBO Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew’s?

LAUNCELOT Turn up on 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

[38]

Jew’s house.

[41]

OLD GOBBO Be God’s sonties, ’twill be a hard way to hit! Can you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, dwell with him or no?

[44]

LAUNCELOT Talk you of young Master Launcelot? [Aside] Mark me now; now will I raise the waters. – Talk you of young Master Launcelot?

[47]

OLD GOBBO No master, sir, but a poor man’s son; his father, though I say’t, is an honest exceeding poor man, and, God be thanked, well to live.

LAUNCELOT Well, let his father be what ’a will, we talk of young Master Launcelot.

[50]

OLD GOBBO Your worship’s friend, and Launcelot, sir.

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

[53]

OLD GOBBO Of Launcelot, an’t please your mastership.

LAUNCELOT Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master Launcelot, father; for the young gentleman, according to Fates and Destinies and such odd sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of learning, is indeed deceased; or, as you would say in plain terms, gone to heaven.

[60]

OLD GOBBO Marry, God forbid! The boy was the very staff of my age, m...