 The Merchant of Venice, Act IV. The Merchant of Venice, by William Shakespeare, Act IV, Scene I, Venice, a Court of Justice. The Duke, the Magnificos, Antonio, Bassanio, Garciano, Salarino, Salanio, and others. What is Antonio here? Ready, so please your grace. I am sorry for thee, thou art come to answer a stony adversary, an inhuman wretch, uncapable of pity, void, and empty, from any dream of mercy. I have heard your grace has tain great pains to qualify his rigorous course, but since he stands obvurate and that no lawful means can carry me out of his envy's reach, I do oppose my patience to his fury, and am armed to suffer with the quietness of spirit, the very tyranny and rage of his. Go one, and call the Jew into the court. He is ready at the door, he comes, my lord. Enter Shylock. Make room, and let him stand before our face. Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, that thou but leadest this fashion of thy malice to the last hour of act, and then it is thought. Thou shalt show thy mercy and remorse, more strange that is thy strange apparent cruelty, and where thou now exact the penalty, which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh, thou will not only lose the forfeiture, but touched with human gentleness and love, forgive a moiety of the principle, cleansing an eye of pity on his losses, have of late so huddled on his back, inow to press a royal merchant down, and block commiseration of his state for brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint, from stubborn turds and tartars, never trained to offices of tender courtesy. We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. I have possessed your grace of what I purpose, and by our holy Sabbath have I sworn to have the due and forfeit of my bond. If you deny it, let the danger light upon your charter and your city's freedom. You'll ask me why I rather choose to have a weight of carry and flesh than to receive three thousand dockets. I'll not answer that, but say it is my humour. Is it answered? What if my house be troubled with a rat, and I be pleased to give ten thousand dockets to have it baked? What are you answered yet? Some men there are, love not a gaping pig, some that are mad if they behold a cat, and others, when the bagpipe sings of the nose, cannot contain their urine. For affection, mistress of passion, sways it to the mood of what it likes or loaves. Now, for your answer, as there is no firm reason to be rendered why he cannot abide a gaping pig, why he a harmless necessary cat, why he a walling bagpipe, but a force must yield to such inevitable shame as to offend himself being offended, so can I give no reason, nor will I not. There is no more than a lodged hate, and a certain loathing, I bear Antonio, that I follow thus a losing suit against him. Are you answered? This is no answer, thou unfeeling man, to excuse the current of thy cruelty. I am not bound to please thee with my answer. Do all men kill the things they do not love? Hates any man the thing he would not kill? Free offense is not a hate at first. What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice? I pray you think you question with the Jew. You may as well go stand upon the beach, and bid the main flood bait his usual height. You may as well use question with the wolf, why he hath made the ewe bleed for the lamb. You may as well forbid the mountain pines to wag their high tops, and to make no noise when they are threatened with the gusts of heaven. May as well do anything most hard as to seek to soften that, than which what's harder, his Jewish heart. Therefore I do beseech you, make no more offers, use no farther means, but with all brief and plain conveniency. Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will. For thy three thousand ducats here is six. If every ducat in six thousand ducats were in six parts, and every part a ducat I would not draw them, I would have my bond. How shall thou hope for mercy, rendering none? What judgment shall I dread? Doing no wrong. You have among you many a purchased slave, which, like your asses and your dogs, and mules you use in abject and in slavish parts, because you bought them. Shall I say to you, let them be free, marry them to your heirs? Why, sweat they under burdens, let their beds be made as soft as yours, and let their pallets be seasoned with such viens? You will answer, the slaves are ours. So do I answer you. The pound of flesh, which I demand of him, is dearly bought. It is mine, and I will have it. If you deny me, fie upon your law, there is no force in the decrees of Venice. I stand for judgment. Answer, shall I have it? Upon my power I may dismiss this court, unless Bellario, a learned doctor, whom I have sent for to determine this, come here today. My lord, here stays without a messenger with letters from the doctor, new come from Padua. Bring us the letters. Call the messenger. Good cheer, Antonio. What man, courage yet? The Jews shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all, ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood. I am a tainted weather of the flock, meadest for death. The weakest kind of fruit drops earliest to the ground, and so let me. You cannot better be employed, Bassanio, than to live still and write mine epitaph. Enter Narissa, dressed like a lawyer's clerk. Came you from Padua, from Bellario? From both, my lord. Bellario greets your grace. Presents a letter. Why does thou wet thy knife so earnestly? To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there. Not on thy soul, but on thy soul, harsh Jew, thou makes thy knife keen. But no metal can, no, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keenness of thy sharp envy, can no prayers pierce thee? No, none that thou hast with enough to make. O be thou damned inexacrable dog! And for thy life let justice be accused. Thou almost makes me waver in my faith, to hold opinion with Pythagoras, that souls of animals infused themselves into the trunks of men. Thy courage spirit governed a wolf, who hanged for human slaughter, even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet. And whilst thou laced in thy unhallowed dam, infused itself in thee, for thy desires are wolfish, bloody, starved, and ravenous. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond, thou but offence thy lungs to speak so loud. Repair thy wit, good youth, for it will fall to cure this ruin. I stand here for law. This letter from Belario does commend a young and learned doctor to our court. Where is he? He attended here hard by to know your answer, whether you'll admit him. With all my heart, some three or four of you, go give him courteous conduct to this place. Meantime the court shall hear Belario's letter. Your grace shall understand that at the receipt of your letter I am very sick, but in the instant that your messenger came, in loving visitation was with me a young doctor of Rome. His name is Balthazar. I acquainted him with a cause in controversy between the Jew and Antonio, the merchant. We turned all many books together. He is furnished with my opinion, which, bettered with his own learning, to greatness whereof I cannot enough commend, comes with him at my importunity to fill up your grace's request in my stead. I beseech you, let his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a reverent estimation, for I never knew so young a body with so old a head. I leave him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his commendation. You hear the learned Belario, what he writes, and here I take it, is the doctor come. Enter Portia, dressed like a doctor of laws. You are welcome. Take your place. Are you acquainted with the difference that holds this present question in the court? I am informant truly of the cause. Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew? Antonio, an old Shylock. Both stand forth. Is your name Shylock? Shylock is my name. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow, yet in such rule that the Venetian law cannot impugn you as you do proceed. To Antonio. You stand within his danger, do you not? I, so he says. Do you confess the bond? I do. Then must the Jew be merciful? On what compulsion must I? Tell me that. The quality of mercy is not strained. It dropeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed. It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. Tis mightiest in the mightiest. It becomes the thrownid monarch better than his crown. His scepter shows the force of temporal power, the attribute to awe and majesty, wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings. But mercy is above this sceptered sway. It is enthroned in the hearts of kings. It is an attribute to God himself. And earthly power doth then show likeest gods when mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, though justice be thy plea, consider this, that in the course of justice none of us should see salvation. We do pray for mercy, and that same prayer doth teach us all to render the deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much to mitigate the justice of thy plea, which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice must needs give sentence against the merchant there. My deeds upon my head. I crave the law, the penalty and forfeit of my bond. Is he not able to 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 or on forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart. If this will not suffice, it must appear that malice bears down truth. And I beseech you, rest once the law to your authority, to do a great right, do a little wrong and curb this cruel devil of his will. It must not be. There is no power in Venice can alter a decree established. It will be recorded for a precedent, and many an error by the same example will rush into this state. It cannot be. Ha, Daniel, come to judgment. Yea, Daniel. Oh wise young judge, how I do honour thee. I pray you, let me look upon the bond. Here it is, most reverent doctor, here it is. Shylock, there's thrice thy money offered thee. An oath, an oath. I have an oath in heaven. Shall I lay perjury upon my soul? No, not for Venice. Why, this bond is forfeit. And lawfully by this, the Jew may claim a pound of flesh. To be by him cut off nearest the merchant's heart. Be merciful, take thrice thy money, bid me tear the bond. When it is paid according to the tenor. Each doth appear you are a worthy judge. You know the law. Your exposition hath been most sound. I charge you, by the law, whereof you are a well deserving pillar, proceed to judgment. By my soul I swear there is no power in the tongue of man to alter me. I stay here upon my bond. Most heartily I do beseech the court to give the judgment. Why, then, thus it is. You must prepare your bosom for his knife. Oh noble judge, oh excellent young man. For the intent and purpose of the law hath full relation to the penalty, which here appeareth due upon the bond. Be true, oh wise and upright judge, how much more elder art thou than thy looks. Therefore lay bare your bosom. Ay, his breast sows as the bond. Doth it not, noble judge, nearest his heart? Those are the very words. It is so. Are there balance here to weigh the flesh? I have them ready. Have by some surgeon Shylock on your charge to stop his wounds lest he do bleed to death. Is it so nominated in the bond? It is not so expressed, but what of that? To our good you do so much for charity. I cannot find it. It is not in the bond. You, merchant, have you anything to say? But little. I am armed and well prepared. Give me your hand, Bassanio. Fare you well. Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you. For herein fortune shows herself more kind than is her custom. It is still her use to let the wretched man outlive his wealth, to view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow an age of poverty from which lingering penance of such misery does she cut me off. Commend me to your honorable wife. Tell her the process of Antonio's end. Say how I loved you. Speak me fair in death. And when the tale is told, bid her be judged whether Bassanio had not once a love. Repent but you that you shall lose your friend. And he repents not that he pays your debt. For if the Jew do cut but deep enough, I'll pay it instantly with 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. I sacrifice them all here to this devil to deliver you. Your wife would give you little thanks for that if she were by to hear you make the offer. I have a wife whom I protest I love. I would she were in heaven, so she could entreat some power to change this courage Jew. Tis well you all fridge behind her back, who wish would else make an unquiet house. These be the Christian husbands. I have a daughter. Would any of the stock of Barabas had been her husband rather than a Christian? We trifle time, I pray thee pursue sentence. A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine. The court awards it and the law doth give it. Most rightful judge. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast. The law allows it and the court awards it. Most learned judge. A sentence come prepare. Terry a little. There is something else. This bond doth give thee hear no jot of blood. The words expressly are a pound of flesh. Take then thy bond. Take thou thy pound of flesh, but in the cutting it, if thou dost shed one drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods are by the laws of Venice confiscate unto the state of Venice. O upright judge, Mark Jew, O learned judge. Is that the law? Thyself shall see the act. For as thou urges justice, be assured thou shalt have justice more than thou desirest. O learned judge, Mark Jew, a learned judge. I take this offer then. Pay the bond thrice and let the Christian go. Here is the money. The Jew shall have all justice, soft no haste, he shall have nothing but the penalty. O Jew, an upright judge, a learned judge. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh, shed thou no blood, nor cut thou less nor more, but just a pound of flesh. If thou takes more or less than a just pound, be it but so much as makes it light or heavy in the substance, or the division of the twentieth part of one poor scruple. Nay, if the scale do turn but in the estimation of a hair, thou dyest, and all thy goods are confiscate. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew! Now, infidel, I have you on the hip. Why, doth the Jew pause, take thy forfeiture. Give me my principle and let me go. I have it ready for thee. Here it is. He hath refused it in the open court. He shall have merely justice and his bond. A Daniel, still I say, a second Daniel! I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. Shall I not have barely my principle? Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture to be so taken at thy peril, Jew. Why, then, the devil give him good of it. I'll stay no longer questioned. Terry, Jew, the law hath yet another hold on you. It is enacted in the laws of Venice. If it be proved against an alien that by direct or indirect attempts to seek the life of any citizen, the part against which he doth contrive shall seize one half his goods, the other half comes to the privy coffer of the state, and the offender's life lies in the mercy of the Duke only, against all other voice. In which predicament I say thou standst? For it appears by manifest proceeding that indirectly and directly, too, thou hast contrived against the very life of the defendant, and thou hast incurred the danger formerly by me rehearsed. Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke. Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself, and yet thy wealth being forfeit to the state, thou hast not left the value of a cord. Therefore thou must be hanged at the state's charge. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirits? I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it. For half thy wealth it is Antonius. The other half comes to the general state, which humbleness may drive unto a fine. I for the state, not for Antonio. They take my life and all pardon not that. You take my house when you do take the prop that doth sustain my house. You take my life when you do take the means whereby I live. What mercy can you render him, Antonio? A halter gratis, nothing else for God's sake. So please, my lord the Duke and all the court, to quit the fine for one half of his goods. I am content so he will let me have the other half in use to render it upon his death unto the gentleman that lately stole his daughter. Two things provided more, that for this favor he presently become a Christian, the other that he do record a gift here in the court of all he dies possessed unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter. He shall do this, or else I do recond the pardon that I laid pronounced here. Art thou contented, Jew? What does thou say? I am content. Clerk, draw a deed of gift. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence I am not well. Send the deed after me, and I will sign it. Get thee gone, but do it. In christening shall thou have two Godfathers, had I been judged thou shouldst have had ten more to bring thee to the gallows, not to the font. Exit Shilach. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. I humbly do desire your grace of pardon. I must away this night toward Padua, and it is me that I presently set forth. I am sorry that your leisure serves you not. Antonio, gratify this gentleman, for in my mind you are much bound to him. Exit Duke, Magnificos, and Train. Most worthy gentlemen, I and my friend have by your wisdom been this day acquitted of grievous penalties. In lieu whereof, three thousand ducats do unto the Jew we freely cope your courteous pains with all. And stand indebted over and above in love and service to you ever more. He is well paid that is well satisfied, and I, delivering you, am satisfied, and therein do account myself well paid. My mind was never yet more mercenary. I pray you, know me when we meet again. I wish you well, and so I take my leave. Dear sir of force, I must attempt you further. Take some remembrance of us as a tribute, not as a fee. Grant me two things. I pray you not to deny me and to pardon me. You press me far, and therefore I will yield. To Antonio. Give me your gloves. I'll wear them for your sake. To Bassanio. And for your love I'll take this ring from you. Do not draw back your hand. I'll take no more, and you in love shall not deny me this. This ring, good sir. Glass, it is a trifle. I will not shame myself to give you this. I will have nothing else but only this. And Naomi thinks I have a 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. I see sir, you are liberal in offers. You taught me first to beg, and now me thinks you teach me how a beggar 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. That excuse serves many men to save their gifts. And if your wife be not a mad woman and know how well I have deserved this ring, she would not hold out enemy forever for giving it to me. Well, peace be with you. Accent, Portia, and Arissa. Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring. Let his deservings and my love with all be valued against your wife's commandment. Go, Gracciano, run and overtake him. Give him the ring and bring him if thou canst unto Antonio's house. Away, make haste. Accent, Gracciano. Come, you and I will dither presently, and in the morning early will we both fly toward Belmont. Come, Antonio. Accent. Scene two. The same. A street. Enter Portia and Narissa. Inquire the Jew's house out. Give him this deed and let him sign it. We'll away to-night and be a day before our husband's home. This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. Enter Gracciano. There, sir, you are well overtaken. My Lord Bassanio, upon more advice, hath sent you here this ring and doth entreat your company at dinner. That cannot be. His ring I do accept most thankfully, and so I pray you tell him. Furthermore, I pray you show my youth old Shylock's house. That will I do. Sir, I would speak to you. Aside to Portia. I'll see if I can get my husband's ring, which I didn't make him swear to keep braver. To Narissa. Thou mayest I warrant. We shall have old swearing that they did give the rings away to men, but we'll out-face them and out-swear them too. Away, make haste. Thou knowest where I will tarry. Come, good sir. Will you show me to this house? Excellent. End of Act IV. The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare. Act V. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, visit LibriVox.org. The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare. Act V. Scene I. Belmont. The Avenue to Portia's Home. Enter Lorenzo and Jessica. 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. Troyless, methinks, mounted the Troyan walls, and sighed his soul toward the Grecian tents where Cressid lay that night. In such a night did Thizbe fearfully or trip the dew, and saw the lion's shadow air himself, and ran dismayed away. 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. In such a night Medea gathered the enchanted herbs that did renew old Eason. In such a night did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew, and with an unthrift love did run from Venice as far as Belmont. In such a night did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well, stealing her soul with many vows of faith, and nare a true one. In such a night did Pretty Jessica like a little shrew slander her love, and he forgave it her. I would outnight you did nobody come. But, Hark, I hear the footing of a man. Enter Stefano. Who comes so fast in silence of the night? A friend. A friend. What friend? Your name? I pray you friend. Stefano 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. Who comes with her? None but a holy hermit and her maid. I pray you, is my master yet returned? 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 Lancelot. Sola, sola, wo ha ho, sola, sola. Who calls? Sola, did you see Master Lorenzo? Master Lorenzo, sola, sola. Leave hallowing man here. Sola, where, where? Here. Tell him there's a post come from my master with his horn full of good news. My master will be here air morning. Exit. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect there coming. And yet, no matter, why should we go in? My friend Stefano signify I pray you within the house your mistress is at hand, and bring your music forth into the air. Exit Stefano. How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank. Here we will 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 patins of bright gold. There's not the smallest orb, which thou beholst, but in his motion, like an angel sings, still quarreling to the young-eyed cherubims. Such harmony is in immortal souls, but wilts 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 sweetness touches pierce your mistress's ear and draw her home with music. Music. I am never merry when I hear sweet music. The reason is your spirits are attentive, for do not note a wild and wanton herd, or race of youthful and unhandled cults 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 savagies turned to a modest gaze by the sweet power of music. Therefore the poet did fame that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods, since not 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 arabus. Let no such man be trusted, mark the music. Enter Portia and Larissa at a distance. 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. When the moon shone we did not see the candle. 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! It is your music, madame, of the house. Nothing is good I see without respect. Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madame. 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 season'd are to their right praise and true perfection. Peace, ho! The moon sleeps with indimion and would not be awaked. Music ceases. That is the voice, or I am such deceived of Portia. He knows me as the blind men knows the cuckoo by the bad voice. Dear lady, welcome home. We have been praying for our husband's welfare, which speed we hope the better for our words. Are they returned? Madam, they are not yet, but there has come a messenger before to signify their coming. Go in, Narissa. 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. Your husband is at hand. I hear his trumpet. We are no tell-tales, madam, fear you not. This nightmare thinks is but the daylight's sick. It looks a little paler. Tis a day such as the day is when the sun is hid. Enter Bassanio, Antonio, Gracciano, and their followers. We should hold day with the antipodes if you would walk in absence of the sun. 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's sword all. You are welcome home, my lord. I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my friend. This is the man, this is Antonio, to whom I am so infinitely bound. You should in all sense be much bound to him, for as I hear he was much bound for you. I know more than I am well acquitted of. Sir, you are very welcome to our house. It must appear in other ways than words. Therefore I scan to this breathing courtesy. To Narissa. By yonder moon I swear you'd 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? A quarrel how already? What's the matter? 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. What talk you of the posy of the value? You swore to me when I did give it to you, that you would wear it till your hour of death, and that it should lie with you in your grave. Though not from me, yet for your behemoth oaths, you should have been respective and have kept it. Gave it to the judge's clerk. No, God's my judge. The clerk will never wear hair on space that hard it. He will, and if he live to be a man. I, if a woman live to be a man. 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. 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, knitted 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, Grasciano, you give your wife too unkind a cause of grief, and were to me I should be mad at it. Aside. Why, I were best to cut my left hand off and swear I lost the ring defending it. 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 ought but the two rings. What ring gave you, my lord? Not that I hope which you 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. Even so void is your false heart of truth. By heaven, I will nare come in your bed until I see the ring. Not I in yours, till I can 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 not would be accepted but the ring, you would abate the strength of your displeasure. If you had known the virtue of the ring, or half her worthiness that gave the ring, or your own honor 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? Norissa teaches me what to believe. I'll die for it, but some woman 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 the 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 in gratitude so much besmirit. 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. Let not that doctor ere 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 my honor which is yet my known, I'll have that doctor for my bed-fellow. And I his clerk. Therefore be it well advised how you do lead me to my own protection. Well, do you so. Let me not take him then, for if I do I'll mar the young clerk's pen. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. Sir, grieve not you. You are welcome not withstanding. 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. Mark you but that. In both my eyes he doubly sees himself. In each I won. Swear by your double self, and there is an 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. 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. Then you shall be his surety. Give him this, and bid him keep it better than the other. Here, Lord Bassanio, swear to keep this ring. By heaven it is the same I gave the doctor. I had it of him. Pardon me, Bassanio, for by this ring the doctor lay with me. And pardon me, my gentle Graciana, for that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, in lieu of this I snout did lie with me. Why, this is like the mending of highways in summer, where the ways are fair enough. What, are we cuckolds there we have deserved it? 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, Narissa 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. You shall find three of your arguses are richly come to harbour suddenly. You shall not know by what strange accident I chanted on this letter. I am dumb. Were you the doctor? And I knew you not. Were you the clerk that is to make me cuckold? I, but the clerk that never means to do it, unless he live until they be a man. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bed-fellow. When I am absent, then lie with my wife. Sweet lady, you have given me life and living. For here I read for certain that my ships are safely come to road. How now Lorenzo? My clerk has some good comforts too for you. I, and I'll give them him without a fee. Therefore I do give to you and Jessica from the rich Jew a special deed of gift, after his death of all he dies possessed of. Fair ladies, you drop mana in the way of starved people. 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 interrogatories, and we will answer all things faithfully. Let it be so. The first interrogatory that my Nerissa shall be sworn on is where 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. Excellent. End of Act Five and End of the Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare.