Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew,
We freely cope your courteous pains withal.

Por. He is well paid that is well satisfied;
And I, delivering you, àm satisfied;

I pray you, know me, when we meet again :
I wish you well, and so I take my leave.

Bass. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further; Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute.

Por. You press me far, and therefore I will yield. Give me your glòves, I'll wear them for your sake; And, for your love, I'll take this rìng from you :— Do not draw back your hand; I'll take no more.

Bass. This ring, good sir,-alas, it is a trifle I will not shame myself to give you this.

Por. I will have nothing else but only this; And now, methinks, I have a mind to it.

Bass. There's more depends on this, than on the vàlue.

The dearest ring in Venice will I give you,

And find it out by proclamation :

Only for this, I pray you, pardon me.

Por. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers: You taught me first to beg; and now, methinks, You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd. Bass. 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. Por. That 'scuse serves many men to save their gifts.

An if

your wife be not a màd woman,

And know how well I have deserv'd this ring,
She would not hold out enemy for ever,

For giving it to me.

Well, peace be with you!

[Exeunt Portia and Nerissa.

Ant. My lord Bassanio, let him have the ring. Bass. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him, Give him the ring; and bring him, if thou canst, Unto Antonio's house :—away, make haste.

[Exit Gratiano.

Come, you and I will thither presently
And in the morning early we will both
Fly toward Belmont: Come, Antonio.

[Exeunt.

ACT V.

Belmont. Avenue to Portia's House.

Enter LORENZO and JESSICA.

Lorenzo.

HE moon shines bright:-In such a night as this,

When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees

And they did make no noise; In such a night,

Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew:

And, with an unthrift love, did run from Venice,
As far as Belmont.

Jes.

And in such a night,

Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well;
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith,
And ne'er a true one.

Lor.

And in such a night,

Did pretty Jessica, a little shrew,

Slander her love, and he forgàve it her.

Sit, Jessica: Look! how the floor of heaven

Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold.
There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st,
But in his motion like an angel sings,

Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubim :
Such harmony is in immortal souls;
But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hèar it.—

[Musick.
Jes. I'm never merry when I hear sweet musick.
Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive:
For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, neighing loud.
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,
Or any air of musick touch their ears,
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze,
By the sweet power of musick: Thus, the poet
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, floods :
The man that hath no musick in himself,
Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treason, stratagems, and spoils :
Let no such man be trusted.—Mark the musick.

Enter PORTIA and NERISSA at a distance.
Por. That light we see, is burning in my hall.
How far that little candle throws his beams!
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.

[Musick ceases.

Lor. That is the voice, or I am much deceiv'd,

Of Portia.―Dear lady, welcome home.

Por. We have been praying for our husbands' welfare.

Are they return'd?

Lor.

Madam, they are not yet;

But there is come a messenger before,

Bass. I thank you, and give welcome to my

friend.

This is the man, this is Antonio,

To whom I am so infinitely bound.

Por. You should in all sense be much bound to him, For, as I hear, he was much bound for you.

Sir, you are very welcome to our house.

[Gratiano and Nerissa talk apart.

Gra. By yonder moon, I swear, you do me wrong;

In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk:

Would he were dead that had it, for my part,

Since you do take it, love, so much at heart.

Por. A quarrel, ho, already? what's the matter? Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring That she did give to me; whose posy was For all the world like cutler's poetry

Upon a knife, Love me, and leave me not.

Ner. What talk you of the posy, or the value? You swore to me, when I did give it you,

That
you would wear it till your hour of death;
And that it should lie with you in your grave.
Gave it a judge's clerk !—But well I know

The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it.
Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man.

Ner. Ay, if a wòman live to be a man.

Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth,

A kind of boy; a little scrubbed boy,

No higher than thyself; the judge's clerk;
I could not for my heart deny it him.

Por. You were to blame, I must be plain with you,
To part so lightly with your wife's first gift.
I gave my lòve a ring, and made him swear
Never to part with it; and here he stands;

I dare be sworn for him, hè would not leave it,
Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth
That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano,
You give your wife too great a cause of grief;
An 'twere to me, I should be màd at it.

Bass. Why, I were best to cut my left hand off,
And swear I lost the ring defending it. [Aside.
Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away
Unto the judge that begg'd it, and, indeed,
Deserv'd it too; and then the boy begg'd mine:
And neither man, nor master, would take aught
But the two rings.

Por.
What ring gave you, my lord?
Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me.

Bass. 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.
Por. Even so void is your false heart.
Bass.

Sweet Portia,

If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
If
you did know for whom I gave the ring,
And how unwillingly I gave the ring,

When nought would be accepted but the ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure.
Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring,
Or half her worthiness that gave the ring,
Or your own honour to retain the ring,
You would not then have parted with the ring.