« ZurückWeiter »
you this, Bassanio, The devil can cite scripture for his purpose. An evil soul, producing holy witness, Is like a villain with a smiling cheek; A goodly apple rotten at the heart: O, what a goodly outside falshood hath! Shy. Three thousand ducats,—'tis a good round
sum. Three months from twelve, then let me see the rate.
Ant. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholden to you?
Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft
You call’d me—dog; and for these courtesies
thus much monies. Ant. I am as like to call thee so again, To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too. If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not As to thy friends: (for when did friendship take A breed for barren metal of his friend?) But lend it rather to thine enemy; Who if he break, thou may'st with better face Exact the penalty. Shy.
Ant. This were kindness.
This kindness will I show:-
you repay me not on such a day,
Ant. Content, in faith; I'll seal to such a bond, And say, there is much kindness in the Jew.
Bass. You shall not seal to such a bond for me, I'll rather dwell in my necessity.
Ant. Why, fear not, man; I will not forfeit it; Within these two months, that's a month before
This bond expires, I do expect return
Shy. O father Abraham, what these Christians are;
Ant. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond.
Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's; Give him direction for this merry bond, And I will go and purse the ducats straight; See to my house, left in the fearful guard Of an unthrifty knave; and presently I will be with you.
Hie thee, gentle Jew. This Hebrew will turn Christian; he
kind. Bass. I like not fair terms, and a villain's mind.
Ant. Come on; in this there can be no dismay, My ships come home a month before the day.
A ROOM IN PORTIA'S HOUSE.
Flourish of Cornets. Enter the Prince of Morocco,
and his train; Portia, Nerissa, and other of her attendants.
Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion,
prove whose blood is reddest, his, or mine.
Por. In terms of choice I am not solely led By nice direction of a maiden's eyes: Besides, the lottery 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, Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair, As any comer I have look'd on yet, For my affection. Mor.
Even for that I thank you;
Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets,
You must take your chance;
chance. Por. First, forward to the temple; after dinner Your hazard shall be made. Mor.
Good fortune then! (Cornets. To make me bless't, or cursed'st among men.