Original text Act V, Scene I Enter Lorenzo and Iessica.
Lor.
The moone shines bright. In such a night as this,
When the sweet winde did gently kisse the trees,
And they did make no nnyse, in such a night
Troylus me thinkes mounted the Troian walls,
And sigh'd his soule toward the Grecian tents
Where Cressed lay that night.
Ies.
In such a night
Did Thisbie fearefully ore-trip the dewe,
And saw the Lyons shadow ere himselfe,
And ranne dismayed away.
Loren.
In such a night
Stood Dido with a Willow in her hand
Vpon the wilde sea bankes, and waft her Loue
To come againe to Carthage.
Ies.
In such a night
Medea gathered the inchanted hearbs
That did renew old Eson.
Loren.
In such a night
Did Iessica steale from the wealthy Iewe,
And with an Vnthrift Loue did runne from Venice,
As farre as Belmont.
Ies.
In such a night
Did young Lorenzo sweare he lou'd her well,
Stealing her soule with many vowes of faith,
And nere a true one.
Loren.
In such a night
Did pretty Iessica (like a little shrow)
Slander her Loue, and he forgaue it her.
Iessi.
I would out-night you did no body come:
But harke, I heare the footing of a man.
Enter Messenger.
Lor.
Who comes so fast in silence of the night?
Mes.
A friend.
Loren.
A friend, what friend? your name I pray you friend?
Mes.
Stephano is my name, and I bring word
My Mistresse will before the breake of day
Be heere at Belmont, she doth stray about
By holy crosses where she kneeles and prayes
For happy wedlocke houres.
Loren.
Who comes with her?
Mes.
None but a holy Hermit and her maid:
I pray you it my Master yet rnturn'd?
Loren.
He is not, nor we haue not heard from him,
But goe we in I pray thee Iessica,
And ceremoniously let vs vs prepare
Some welcome for the Mistresse of the house,
Enter Clowne.
Clo.
Sola, sola: wo ha ho, sola, sola.
Loren.
Who calls?
Clo.
Sola, did you see M. Lorenzo, & M.
Lorenzo, sola, sola.
Lor.
Leaue hollowing man, heere.
Clo.
Sola, where, where?
Lor.
Heere?
Clo.
Tel him ther's a Post come from my
Master, with his horne full of good newes, my Master will
be here ere morning.
Loren.
sweet soule / Let's in, and there expect their comming.
And yet no matter: why should we goe in?
My friend Stephen, signifie pray you
Within the house, your Mistresse is at hand,
And bring your musique foorth into the ayre.
How sweet the moone-light sleepes vpon this banke,
Heere will we sit, and let the sounds of musicke
Creepe in our eares soft stilnes, and the night
Become the tutches of sweet harmonie:
Sit Iessica, looke how the floore of heauen
Is thicke inlayed with pattens of bright gold,
There's not the smallest orbe which thou beholdst
But in his motion like an Angell sings,
Still quiring to the young eyed Cherubins;
Such harmonie is in immortall soules,
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grosly close in it, we cannot heare it:
Come hoe, and wake Diana with a hymne,
With sweetest tutches pearce your Mistresse eare,
And draw her home with musicke.
Play musicke.
Iessi.
I am neuer merry when I heare sweet musique.
Lor.
The reason is, your spirits are attentiue:
For doe but note a wilde and wanton heard
Or race of youthful and vnhandled colts,
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,
Which is the hot condition of their bloud,
If they but heare perchance a trumpet sound,
Or any ayre of musicke touch their eares,
You shall perceiue them make a mutuall stand,
Their sauage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze,
By the sweet power of musicke: therefore the Poet
Did faine that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods.
Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage,
But musicke for time doth change his nature,
The man that hath no musicke in himselfe,
Nor is not moued with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoyles,
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections darke as Erobus,
Let no such man be trusted: marke the musicke.
Enter Portia and Nerrissa.
Por.
That light we see is burning in my hall:
How farre that little candell throwes his beames,
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
Ner.
When the moone shone we did not see the candle?
Por.
So doth the greater glory dim the lesse,
A substitute shines brightly as a King
Vntill a King be by, and then his state
Empties it selfe, as doth an inland brooke
Into the maine of waters: musique, harke. Musicke.
Ner.
It is your musicke Madame of the house.
Por.
Nothing is good I see without respect,
Methinkes it sounds much sweeter then by day?
Ner.
Silence bestowes that vertue on it Madam.
Por.
The Crow doth sing as sweetly as the Larke
When neither is attended: and I thinke
The Nightingale if she should sing by day
When euery Goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a Musitian then the Wren?
How many things by season, season'd are
To their right praise, and true perfection:
Peace,
Musicke ceases.
how the Moone sleepes with Endimion,
And would not be awak'd.
Lor.
That is the voice,
Or I am much deceiu'd of Portia.
Por.
He knowes me as the blinde man knowes the / Cuckow
by the bad voice?
Lor.
Deere Lady welcome home?
Por.
We haue bene praying for our husbands welfare
Which speed we hope the better for our words,
Are they return'd?
Lor.
Madam, they are not yet:
But there is come a Messenger before
To signifie their comming.
Por.
Go in Nerrissa,
Giue order to my seruants, that they take
No note at all of our being absent hence,
Nor you Lorenzo, Iessica nor you.
A Tucket sounds.
Lor.
Your husband is at hand, I heare his Trumpet,
We are no tell-tales Madam, feare you not.
Por.
This night methinkes is but the daylight sicke,
It lookes a little paler, 'tis a day,
Such as the day is, when the Sun is hid.
Enter Bassanio, Anthonio, Gratiano, and their Followers.
Bas.
We should hold day with the Antipodes,
If you would walke in absence of the sunne.
Por.
Let me giue light, but let me not be light,
For a light wife doth make a heauie husband,
And neuer be Bassanio so for me,
But God sort all: you are welcome home my Lord.
Bass.
I thanke you Madam, giue welcom to my friend
This is the man, this is Anthonio,
To whom I am so infinitely bound.
Por.
You should in all sence be much bound to him,
For as I heare he was much bound for you.
Anth.
No more then I am wel acquitted of.
Por.
Sir, you are verie welcome to our house:
It must appeare in other waies then words,
Therefore I scant this breathing curtesie.
Gra.
By yonder Moone I sweare you do me wrong,
Infaith I gaue it to the Iudges Clearke,
Would he were gelt that had it for my part,
Since you do take it Loue so much at hart.
Por.
A quarrel hoe alreadie, what's the matter?
Gra.
About a hoope of Gold, a paltry Ring
That she did giue me, whose Poesie was
For all the world like Cutlers Poetry
Vpon a knife; Loue mee, and leaue mee not.
Ner.
What talke you of the Poesie or the valew:
You swore to me when I did giue it you,
That you would weare it til the houre of death,
And that it should lye with you in your graue,
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,
You should haue beene respectiue and haue kept it.
Gaue it a Iudges Clearke: but wel I know
The Clearke wil nere weare haire on's face that had it.
Gra.
He wil, and if he liue to be a man.
Nerrissa.
I, if a Woman liue to be a man.
Gra.
Now by this hand I gaue it to a youth,
A kinde of boy, a little scrubbed boy,
No higher then thy selfe, the Iudges Clearke,
A prating boy that begg'd it as a Fee,
I could not for my heart deny it him.
Por.
You were too blame, I must be plaine with you,
To part so slightly with your wiues first gift,
A thing stucke on with oathes vpon your finger,
And so riueted with faith vnto your flesh.
I gaue my Loue a Ring, and made him sweare
Neuer to part with it, and heere he stands:
I dare be sworne for him, he would not leaue it,
Nor plucke it from his finger, for the wealth
That the world masters. Now in faith Gratiano,
You giue your wife too vnkinde a cause of greefe,
And 'twere to me I should be mad at it.
Bass.
Why I were best to cut my left hand off,
And sweare I lost the Ring defending it.
Gra.
My Lord Bassanio gaue his Ring away
Vnto the Iudge that beg'd it, and indeede
Deseru'd it too: and then the Boy his Clearke
That tooke some paines in writing, he begg'd mine,
And neyther man nor master would take ought
But the two Rings.
Por.
What Ring gaue you my Lord?
Not that I hope which you receiu'd of me.
Bass.
If I could adde a lie vnto a fault,
I would deny it: but you see my finger
Hath not the Ring vpon it, it is gone.
Por.
Euen so voide is your false heart of truth.
By heauen I wil nere come in your bed
Vntil I see the Ring.
Ner.
Nor I in yours,
til I againe see mine.
Bass.
Sweet Portia,
If you did know to whom I gaue the Ring,
If you did know for whom I gaue the Ring,
And would conceiue for what I gaue the Ring,
And how vnwillingly I left the Ring,
When nought would be accepted but the Ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure?
Por.
If you had knowne the vertue of the Ring,
Or halfe her worthinesse that gaue the Ring,
Or your owne honour to containe the Ring,
You would not then haue parted with the Ring:
What man is there so much vnreasonable,
If you had pleas'd to haue defended it
With any termes of Zeale: wanted the modestie
To vrge the thing held as a ceremonie:
Nerrissa teaches me what to beleeue,
Ile die for't, but some Woman had the Ring?
Bass.
No by mine honor Madam, by my soule
No Woman had it, but a ciuill Doctor,
Which did refuse three thousand Ducates of me,
And beg'd the Ring; the which I did denie him,
And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away:
Euen he that had held vp the verie life
Of my deere friend. What should I say sweete Lady?
I was inforc'd to send it after him,
I was beset with shame and curtesie,
My honor would not let ingratitude
So much besmeare it. Pardon me good Lady,
And by these blessed Candles of the night,
Had you bene there, I thinke you would haue beg'd
The Ring of me, to giue the worthie Doctor?
Por.
Let not that Doctor ere come neere my house,
Since he hath got the iewell that I loued,
And that which you did sweare to keepe for me,
I will become as liberall as you,
Ile not deny him any thing I haue,
No, not my body, nor my husbands bed:
Know him I shall, I am well sure of it.
Lie not a night from home. Watch me like Argos,
If you doe not, if I be left alone,
Now by mine honour which is yet mine owne,
Ile haue the Doctor for my bedfellow.
Nerrissa.
And I his Clarke: therefore be well aduis'd
How you doe leaue me to mine owne protection.
Gra.
Well, doe you so: let not me take him then,
For if I doe, ile mar the yong Clarks pen.
Ant.
I am th' vnhappy subiect of these quarrels.
Por.
Sir, grieue not you, / You are welcome notwithstanding.
Bas.
Portia, forgiue me this enforced wrong,
And in the hearing of these manie friends
I sweare to thee, euen by thine owne faire eyes
Wherein I see my selfe.
Por.
Marke you but that?
In both my eyes he doubly sees himselfe:
In each eye one, sweare by your double selfe,
And there's an oath of credit.
Bas.
Nay, but heare me.
Pardon this fault, and by my soule I sweare
I neuer more will breake an oath with thee.
Anth.
I once did lend my bodie for thy wealth,
Which but for him that had your husbands ring
Had quite miscarried. I dare be bound againe,
My soule vpon the forfeit, that your Lord
Will neuer more breake faith aduisedlie.
Por.
Then you shall be his suretie: giue him this,
And bid him keepe it better then the other.
Ant.
Heere Lord Bassanio, swear to keep this ring.
Bass.
By heauen it is the same I gaue the Doctor.
Por.
I had it of him: pardon Bassanio,
For by this ring the Doctor lay with me.
Ner.
And pardon me my gentle Gratiano,
For that same scrubbed boy the Doctors Clarke
In liew of this, last night did lye with me.
Gra.
Why this is like the mending of high waies
In Sommer, where the waies are faire enough:
What, are we Cuckolds ere we haue deseru'd it.
Por.
Speake not so grossely, you are all amaz'd;
Heere is a letter, reade it at your leysure,
It comes from Padua from Bellario,
There you shall finde that Portia was the Doctor,
Nerrissa there her Clarke. Lorenzo heere
Shall witnesse I set forth as soone as you,
And but eu'n now return'd: I haue not yet
Entred my house. Anthonio you are welcome,
And I haue better newes in store for you
Then you expect: vnseale this letter soone,
There you shall finde three of your Argosies
Are richly come to harbour sodainlie.
You shall not know by what strange accident
I chanced on this letter.
Antho.
I am dumbe.
Bass.
Were you the Doctor, and I knew you not?
Gra.
Were you the Clark that is to make me cuckold.
Ner.
I, but the Clark that neuer meanes to doe it,
Vnlesse he liue vntill he be a man.
Bass.
(Sweet Doctor) you shall be my bedfellow,
When I am absent, then lie with my wife.
An.
(Sweet Ladie) you haue giuen me life & liuing;
For heere I reade for certaine that my ships
Are safelie come to Rode.
Por.
How now Lorenzo?
My Clarke hath some good comforts to for you.
Ner.
I, and Ile giue them him without a fee.
There doe I giue to you and Iessica
From the rich Iewe, a speciall deed of gift
After his death, of all he dies possess'd of.
Loren.
Faire Ladies you drop Manna in the way
Of starued people.
Por.
It is almost morning,
And yet I am sure you are not satisfied
Of these euents at full. Let vs goe in,
And charge vs there vpon intergatories,
And we will answer all things faithfully.
Gra.
Let it be so, the first intergatory
That my Nerrissa shall be sworne on, is,
Whether till the next night she had rather stay,
Or goe to bed, now being two houres to day,
But were the day come, I should wish it darke,
Till I were couching with the Doctors Clarke.
Well, while I liue, Ile feare no other thing
So sore, as keeping safe Nerrissas ring.
Exeunt.
| Modern text Enter Lorenzo and Jessica
LORENZO
The 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
Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls,
And sighed his soul toward the Grecian tents
Where Cressid lay that night.
JESSICA
In such a night
Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew,
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself,
And ran dismayed away.
LORENZO
In such a night
Stood Dido with a willow in her hand
Upon the wild sea banks, and waft her love
To come again to Carthage.
JESSICA
In such a night
Medea gathered the enchanted herbs
That did renew old Aeson.
LORENZO
In such a night
Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew,
And with an unthrift love did run from Venice
As far as Belmont.
JESSICA
In such a night
Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well,
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith,
And ne'er a true one.
LORENZO
In such a night
Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,
Slander her love, and he forgave it her.
JESSICA
I would out-night you, did nobody come;
But hark, I hear the footing of a man.
Enter Stephano
LORENZO
Who comes so fast in silence of the night?
STEPHANO
A friend.
LORENZO
A friend? What friend? Your name I pray you, friend.
STEPHANO
Stephano is my name, and I bring word
My mistress will before the break of day
Be here at Belmont. She doth stray about
By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays
For happy wedlock hours.
LORENZO
Who comes with her?
STEPHANO
None but a holy hermit and her maid.
I pray you, is my master yet returned?
LORENZO
He is not, nor we have not heard from him.
But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica,
And ceremoniously let us prepare
Some welcome for the mistress of the house.
Enter Launcelot
LAUNCELOT
Sola, sola! Wo ha ho! Sola, sola!
LORENZO
Who calls?
LAUNCELOT
Sola! Did you see Master Lorenzo? Master
Lorenzo! Sola, sola!
LORENZO
Leave holloaing, man! Here.
LAUNCELOT
Sola! Where? Where?
LORENZO
Here!
LAUNCELOT
Tell him there's a post come from my
master, with his horn full of good news. My master will
be here ere morning.
Exit
LORENZO
Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their coming.
And yet no matter, why should we go in?
My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you,
Within the house, your mistress is at hand,
And bring your music forth into the air.
Exit Stephano
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patens of bright gold.
There's not the smallest orb which thou beholdest
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins;
Such harmony is in immortal souls,
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
Enter Musicians
Come ho, and wake Diana with a hymn,
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,
And draw her home with music.
Music
JESSICA
I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
LORENZO
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 and neighing loud,
Which is the hot condition of their blood,
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,
Or any air of music touch their ears,
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,
Their savage eyes turned to a modest gaze
By the sweet power of music. Therefore the poet
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods,
Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage
But music for the time doth change his nature.
The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils,
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus.
Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music.
Enter Portia and Nerissa
PORTIA
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.
NERISSA
When the moon shone we did not see the candle.
PORTIA
So doth the greater glory dim the less.
A substitute shines brightly as a king
Until a king be by, and then his state
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook
Into the main of waters. Music! hark!
NERISSA
It is your music, madam, of the house.
PORTIA
Nothing is good, I see, without respect;
Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day.
NERISSA
Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.
PORTIA
The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark
When neither is attended, and I think
The nightingale, if she should sing by day,
When every goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the wren.
How many things by season seasoned are
To their right praise and true perfection!
Peace!
Music ceases
How the moon sleeps with Endymion,
And would not be awaked.
LORENZO
That is the voice,
Or I am much deceived, of Portia.
PORTIA
He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo,
By the bad voice.
LORENZO
Dear lady, welcome home.
PORTIA
We have been praying for our husbands' welfare,
Which speed we hope the better for our words.
Are they returned?
LORENZO
Madam, they are not yet,
But there is come a messenger before
To signify their coming.
PORTIA
Go in, Nerissa,
Give order to my servants that they take
No note at all of our being absent hence,
Nor you, Lorenzo, Jessica, nor you.
A tucket sounds
LORENZO
Your husband is at hand, I hear his trumpet.
We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not.
PORTIA
This night methinks is but the daylight sick,
It looks a little paler. 'Tis a day
Such as the day is when the sun is hid.
Enter Bassanio, Antonio, Gratiano, and their followers
BASSANIO
We should hold day with the Antipodes
If you would walk in absence of the sun.
PORTIA
Let me give light, but let me not be light,
For a light wife doth make a heavy husband,
And never be Bassanio so for me.
But God sort all! You are welcome home, my lord.
BASSANIO
I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my friend.
This is the man, this is Antonio,
To whom I am so infinitely bound.
PORTIA
You should in all sense be much bound to him,
For, as I hear, he was much bound for you.
ANTONIO
No more than I am well acquitted of.
PORTIA
Sir, you are very welcome to our house;
It must appear in other ways than words,
Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.
GRATIANO
(to Nerissa)
By yonder moon I swear you do me wrong!
In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk.
Would he were gelt that had it for my part
Since you do take it, love, so much at heart.
PORTIA
A quarrel ho, already! What's the matter?
GRATIANO
About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
That she did give me, whose posy was
For all the world like cutler's poetry
Upon a knife, ‘ Love me, and leave me not.’
NERISSA
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.
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,
You should have been respective and have kept it.
Gave it a judge's clerk! No, God's my judge,
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it!
GRATIANO
He will, an if he live to be a man.
NERISSA
Ay, if a woman live to be a man.
GRATIANO
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,
A prating boy that begged it as a fee;
I could not for my heart deny it him.
PORTIA
You were to blame – I must be plain with you –
To part so slightly with your wife's first gift,
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger
And so riveted with faith unto your flesh.
I gave my love a ring, and made him swear
Never to part with it; and here he stands.
I dare be sworn for him he 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 unkind a cause of grief.
An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it.
BASSANIO
(aside)
Why, I were best to cut my left hand off
And swear I lost the ring defending it.
GRATIANO
My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away
Unto the judge that begged it, and indeed
Deserved it too; and then the boy, his clerk
That took some pains in writing, he begged mine,
And neither man nor master would take aught
But the two rings.
PORTIA
What ring gave you, my lord?
Not that, I hope, which you received of me?
BASSANIO
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.
PORTIA
Even so void is your false heart of truth.
By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed
Until I see the ring.
NERISSA
Nor I in yours
Till I again see mine!
BASSANIO
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.
PORTIA
If you had known the virtue of the ring,
Or half her worthiness that gave the ring,
Or your own honour to contain the ring,
You would not then have parted with the ring.
What man is there so much unreasonable,
If you had pleased to have defended it
With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty
To urge the thing held as a ceremony?
Nerissa teaches me what to believe,
I'll die for't but some woman had the ring!
BASSANIO
No, by my honour, 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 honour would not let ingratitude
So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady!
For, by these blessed candles of the night,
Had you been there I think you would have begged
The ring of me to give the worthy doctor.
PORTIA
Let not that doctor e'er come near my house.
Since he hath got the jewel that I loved,
And that which you did swear to keep for me,
I will become as liberal as you,
I'll not deny him anything I have,
No, not my body nor my husband's bed.
Know him I shall, I am well sure of it.
Lie not a night from home; watch me like Argus.
If you do not, if I be left alone,
Now by mine honour which is yet mine own,
I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow.
NERISSA
And I his clerk. Therefore be well advised
How you do leave me to mine own protection.
GRATIANO
Well, do you so. Let not me take him then!
For if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen.
ANTONIO
I am th' unhappy subject of these quarrels.
PORTIA
Sir, grieve not you, you are welcome notwithstanding.
BASSANIO
Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong;
And in the hearing of these many friends
I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes,
Wherein I see myself ...
PORTIA
Mark you but that!
In both my eyes he doubly sees himself,
In each eye one. Swear by your double self,
And there's an oath of credit.
BASSANIO
Nay, but hear me.
Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear
I never more will break an oath with thee.
ANTONIO
I once did lend my body for his wealth,
Which but for him that had your husband's ring
Had quite miscarried. I dare be bound again,
My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord
Will never more break faith advisedly.
PORTIA
Then you shall be his surety. Give him this,
And bid him keep it better than the other.
ANTONIO
Here, Lord Bassanio. Swear to keep this ring.
BASSANIO
By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor!
PORTIA
I had it of him. Pardon me, Bassanio,
For by this ring the doctor lay with me.
NERISSA
And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano,
For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk,
In lieu of this last night did lie with me.
GRATIANO
Why, this is like the mending of highways
In summer, where the ways are fair enough.
What, are we cuckolds ere we have deserved it?
PORTIA
Speak not so grossly. You are all amazed.
Here is a letter, read it at your leisure.
It comes from Padua from Bellario.
There you shall find that Portia was the doctor,
Nerissa there her clerk. Lorenzo here
Shall witness I set forth as soon as you,
And even but now returned, I have not yet
Entered my house. Antonio, you are welcome,
And I have better news in store for you
Than you expect. Unseal this letter soon,
There you shall find three of your argosies
Are richly come to harbour suddenly.
You shall not know by what strange accident
I chanced on this letter.
ANTONIO
I am dumb!
BASSANIO
Were you the doctor and I knew you not?
GRATIANO
Were you the clerk that is to make me cuckold?
NERISSA
Ay, but the clerk that never means to do it,
Unless he live until he be a man.
BASSANIO
Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow.
When I am absent, then lie with my wife.
ANTONIO
Sweet lady, you have given me life and living,
For here I read for certain that my ships
Are safely come to road.
PORTIA
How now, Lorenzo?
My clerk hath some good comforts too for you.
NERISSA
Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee.
There do I give to you and Jessica
From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift,
After his death, of all he dies possessed of.
LORENZO
Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way
Of starved people.
PORTIA
It is almost morning,
And yet I am sure you are not satisfied
Of these events at full. Let us go in,
And charge us there upon inter'gatories,
And we will answer all things faithfully.
GRATIANO
Let it be so. The first inter'gatory
That my Nerissa shall be sworn on is
Whether till the next night she had rather stay,
Or go to bed now, being two hours to day.
But were the day come, I should wish it dark,
Till I were couching with the doctor's clerk.
Well, while I live I'll fear no other thing
So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring.
Exeunt
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