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Thou knowest my fortunes are at sea.
Neither have I money nor commodity to raise a present sum.
Therefore, go forth.
Try what my credit can in Venice do.
It shall be racked, even to the uttermost, to furnish you to Belmont,
and fair Portia.
I swear to you, Nerissa,
- I am more weary of this great world. - You would be, sweet madam,
if your miseries were as plentiful as your good fortunes are.
And yet, from what I see,
they are as sick that have it in excess as those that starve with nothing.
If doing were as easy as knowing what were good to do,
chapels had been churches,
and poor men"s cottages princes" palaces.
But this reasoning is not in the way to choose me a husband.
O me, the word "choose"!
I may neither choose who I would nor refuse who I dislike.
So is the will of a living daughter ruled by a dead father.
Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose one nor refuse none?
Your father was always virtuous,
and holy men, at their death, have good inspirations.
Therefore the lottery, that he devised
in these three chests of gold and silver and lead,
so that who chooses his meaning chooses you,
will no doubt only be guessed, rightly, by someone who you shall rightly love.
Right.
What warmth is there in your affection
towards any of these princely suitors that are already come?
Pray name them, and as you name them I will describe them,
and, according to my description, level at my affection.
How say you of the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon?
Oh, God.
God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man.
I know it is a sin to be a mocker, but he...!
What say you to Falconbridge, the young baron of England?
How oddly he's suited!
And the Duke of Saxony's nephew?
Very vilely in the morning when he is sober,
and most vilely in the afternoon when he is drunk.
O Nerissa!
Wait! Wait.
If he should offer to choose, and choose the right casket,
you should refuse to perform your father's will if you should refuse to accept him.
Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee,
set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary casket.
I will do anything, Nerissa, ere I will be married to a sponge.
Three thousand ducats.
Well.
Ay, sir, for three months.
For three months?
- Well... - For which, as I told you,
Antonio shall be bound.
Antonio shall be bound?
Well...
May you help me? Will you pleasure me?
Should I know your answer?
Three thousand ducats for three months,
and Antonio bound.
Your answer to that.
Antonio is a good man.
Have you heard any imputation to the contrary?
No. No, no, no, no. My meaning in saying that he is a good man
is to have you understand that he is of good credit.
Yet his means are in question.
He hath a ship bound for Tripolis, another to the Indies.
I understand moreover, upon the Rialto, he hath a third ship at Mexico,
a fourth for England,
and other ventures he hath squandered abroad.
But ships are but boards,
sailors are but men,
there be land rats and water rats,
water thieves and land thieves.
I mean pirates.
Then there is the peril of waters, winds and rocks.
The man is, notwithstanding, of good credit.
Three thousand ducats.
I think I may take his bond.
- Be assured you may. - May I speak with Antonio?
If it please you, dine with us.
Yes, to smell pork,
to eat of the habitation which your prophet the Nazarite conjured the devil into.
I will buy with you, sell with you, walk with you, talk with you, and so following,
but I will not eat with you, nor drink with you,
nor pray with you.
Who is he comes here?
This is Signior Antonio. Antonio!
Antonio.
How like a fawning publican he looks.
Shylock! Shylock, do you hear?
I am debating of my present store,
and by the near guess of my memory, I cannot instantly raise up the gross
of full three thousand ducats.
But Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, will furnish me.
Benjamin. Go, seek out Tubal.
But soft, how many months?
Rest you fair, good signior.
Your worship was the last man in our mouths.
- Is he possessed how much you would? - Ay, ay, three thousand ducats.
And for three months.
Ah, I forgot. Three months, you told me so.
But soft, erm... methought you said you neither lend nor borrow with interest.
- I do never use it. - Well.
Three thousand ducats, "tis a good round sum.
Launcelot.
The rates.
Three months... from twelve.
Let me see the rate.
Well, Shylock,
shall we be beholden to you?
Signior Antonio...
many a time, and oft in the Rialto,
you have reviled me about my moneys and my usances.
Still, I have borne it with a patient shrug,
for sufferance is the badge of all our tribe.
You call me misbeliever,
cut-throat dog,
and spit upon my Jewish gaberdine.
And all for use of that which is my own.
Well, it now appears you need my help.
You come to me and you say, "Shylock, we would have money. "
You say so. You, that did void your rheum upon my beard
and kick me as you spurn a stranger cur over your threshold.
Money is your suit. What should I say to you?
Should I not say, "Hath a dog money?
"Is it possible a cur can lend three thousand ducats?"
Or shall I bend low
and, in a slavish voice, with bated breath and whispering humbleness say this -
"Fair sir, you spat on me on Wednesday last,
"you spurned me such a day, another time you called me dog.
"For these courtesies, I'll lend you thus much moneys. "
I'm as like to call you so again, to spit on you again, to spurn you too.
If you would lend this money, lend it not unto your friends.
For when did friendship take a breed for barren metal from his friends?
Lend it rather to your enemy who, if he break,
you may with better face exact the penalty.
Why, look how you storm. I would be friends with you
and have your love.
Forget the stains that you have shamed me with.
Supply your present wants, and take not a drop of interest for my moneys...
...and you'll not hear me.
This is kind I offer.
- This is kindness. - No...
This kindness I will show.