The Merchant of Venice Page #3

as my father shall specify.

He hath a great infection, sir,

as one would say, to serve.

Indeed, sir. The short and the long is,

I serve the Jew, and have a desire,

as my father shall specify.

To be brief, the very truth is, as my father,

being an old man, shall fruitify unto you...

I have here a dish of doves

I would bestow upon your worship.

(Gobbo) And my suit is...

(Launcelot) 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.

One speak for both. What would you?

- Serve you, sir.

- That is the very defect of the matter, sir.

You have obtained your suit,

if it be preferment

to leave a rich Jew's service

to become the follower

of so poor a gentleman.

The old proverb is very well parted

between my master Shylock and you, sir.

You have the grace of God, sir,

and he has enough.

(Laughs)

You speak it well. Give him a livery more

guarded than his fellows'. See it done.

(Thunder)

I'm sorry you will leave my father so.

Our house is hell, and you, a merry devil,

did rob it of some taste of tediousness.

And Launcelot, soon at supper

shall you see Lorenzo,

who is thy new master's guest.

Give him this letter.

Do it secretly.

And so farewell.

I would not have my father

see me talk with thee.

Adieu. (Clears throat)

Tears exhibit my tongue.

Most beautiful pagan, most sweet Jew.

O Lorenzo, if thou keep promise,

I shall end this strife,

becoming Christian and your loving wife.

(Thunder crashes)

(Shylock) Jessica?

(Shylock coughs)

Well.

You will see, your eyes will be the judge,

the difference of old Shylock and Bassanio.

You will not gourmandise with him,

as you have done with me,

nor sleep and snore and wear apparel out.

Not with him.

- Jessica, I say!

- Why, Jessica.

Who bids you call?

I do not bid you call.

Your worship was used to say

I could do nothing without bidding.

- Oh.

- (Door opens)

Call you?

- What's your will?

- I am bid forth to supper, Jessica.

There are my keys.

Wherefore should I go?

I am not bid for love.

Oh, they flatter me.

Yet I will go and feed

upon the prodigal Christian.

Jessica, my girl, look to my house.

Oh, I am right loath to go.

(Bell tolling)

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 expects your reproach.

And so do I his.

And they have conspired together.

I will not say you shall see a masque,

but if you do, it was not for nothing

that my nose fell a-bleeding

on Black Monday last

at six o'clock in the morning.

What, are there masques?

Hear you me, Jessica,

clamber not you up to the casements then,

nor thrust your head into the public street

to gaze on Christian fools

with varnished faces.

Let not the sound of shallow foppery

enter my sober house.

Oh, by Jacob's staff, I swear I have

no mind of feasting forth tonight.

But I will go.

Go you before, sirrah. Say I will come.

I will go before, sir.

Mistress, look out the window for all this.

There will come a Christian boy

will be worth a Jewess' eye.

What says that fool

of Hagar's offspring, ha?

His words were, "Farewell, mistress. "

Nothing else.

(Sighs) The fool is kind enough

but a huge feeder.

Snail-slow in profit,

and he sleeps by day more than a tomcat.

Therefore, I part with him.

Well, Jessica, go in.

Perhaps I will return immediately.

(Thunder rumbling)

Do as I bid you.

(Thunder)

(Sighs) Farewell.

And if my fortune be not crost,

I have a father, you a daughter, lost.

(# North African music)

How do I know if I do choose the right?

The one of them

contains my picture, Prince.

If you choose that, then I am yours withal.

Some god direct my judgment!

(Speaks in native tongue)

Let me see.

"Who chooseth me

must give and hazard all he hath. "

- (Men) Hmm...

- Must give? For what?

For lead? Hazard for lead?

This casket, my friends, threatens.

Men who hazard all

do it in hope of fair advantages.

A golden mind stoops not

to shows of dross, eh?

(All laugh)

I'll then nor give nor hazard

aught for lead, ah? Mm-mm.

(Spits, laughs)

What says the silver with her virgin hue?

(Chuckles)

"Who chooseth me...

"shall gain as much as he deserves. "

Pause there, Morocco,

and weigh thy value

with an even hand, ha?

I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes,

and in graces, and in qualities of breeding!

(Gasps)

What if I stray no further but choose here?

Hmm...

"Who chooseth me...

"will gain what many men...

"desire. "

- (Men) Hmm...

- Huh?

Why, that's the lady!

All of the world desires her!

From the four corners of the earth,

they come to kiss this shrine,

this mortal-breathing saint.

Deliver me the key.

Here do I choose, and thrive as I may.

There, take it, Prince.

And if my form lie there, I am yours.

(# Musicians playing fanfare)

Ha!

(Men gasping)

O hell.

What have we here?

"All that glistens is not gold.

"Often have you heard that told.

"Gilded tombs do worms enfold.

"Fare you well...

- "but your suit is cold. "

- (Sighs of sympathy)

(Laughter)

For all of my fortune, Shylock,

I give thanks.

To best-esteemed acquaintances.

Antonio, good health.

I know the hand. In faith, it is a fair hand,

and whiter than the paper it writ on

is the fair hand that writ.

Love-news, in faith.

(Laughter)

(Lorenzo) Meet me tonight.

(Thunder crashes)

This is the penthouse under which

Lorenzo desired us to make stand?

His hour is almost past.

And it is a marvel he outstays his hour

for lovers always run before the clock.

That ever holds.

Who rises from a feast with

that keen appetite that he sits down?

(Lorenzo yells)

Sweet friends,

your patience for my long delay.

Ho! Who's within?

(Jessica) Who are you?

Tell me for more certainty,

albeit I swear that I do know your tongue.

Lorenzo and thy love.

Lorenzo, certain, and my love indeed,

for who I love so much?

And now who knows but you, Lorenzo,

whether I am yours?

Heaven and thy thoughts are witness

that thou art.

Here! Catch this casket.

(All) No!

It is worth the pains.

I'm glad 'tis night. You do not look on me

for I am much ashamed of my disguise.

But love is blind and lovers cannot see

the pretty follies that themselves commit.

(Thunder)

For if they could,

Cupid himself would blush

to see me thus transformed into a boy.

(Grunting)

Descend, for you must be my torchbearer.

Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love,

and I should be obscured.

So are you, sweet,

even in the lovely garnish of a boy.

But come at once,

for the close night doth play the runaway.

I will gild myself with some more ducats

and be with you straight.

(Thunder crashes)

Contend me, but I love her, heartily.

For she is wise, if I can judge of her,

and fair, she is, if that mine eyes be true

and true she is, as she hath proved herself.

And therefore, like herself,

wise, fair and true,

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