Ever shall be fortunate.
So shall all the couples three
Ever true in loving be;
And the blots of Nature’s hand
Shall not in their issue stand;
Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar,
Nor mark prodigious, such as are
Despised in nativity,
Shall upon their children be.
With this field-dew consecrate,
Every fairy take his gait,
And each several chamber bless,
Through this palace, with sweet peace,
And the owner of it blest
Ever shall in safety rest.
Trip away; make no stay;
Meet me all by break of day.
Exeunt [Oberon, Titania, and Train].
Puck.
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumb’red here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend.
If you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to scape the serpent’s tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call.
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.
[Exit.]
¶
William Shakespeare
THE MERCHANT
OF VENICE
( 1596–1597 )
Quarto, 1600; First Folio, 1623.
merchant
¶
Act I
Act II
Sc. I Sc. II Sc. III Sc. IV Sc. V Sc. VI Sc. VII Sc. VIII Sc. IX
Act III
Sc. I Sc. II Sc. III Sc. IV Sc. V
Act IV
Sc. I Sc. II
Act V
Sc. I
[Dramatis Personae
The Duke of Venice
The Prince of Morocco,
The Prince of Arragon, suitors to Portia
Antonio, a merchant of Venice
Bassanio, his friend, suitor to Portia
Solanio,
Gratiano,
Salerio, friends to Antonio and Bassanio
Lorenzo, in love with Jessica
Shylock, a rich Jew
Tubal, a Jew, his friend
Launcelot Gobbo, a clown, servant to Shylock
Old Gobbo, father to Launcelot
Leonardo, servant to Bassanio
Balthazar,
Stephano, servants to Portia
–––––
Portia, a rich heiress, of Belmont
Nerissa, her waiting-gentlewoman
Jessica, daughter to Shylock
–––––
Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, Jailer, Servants to Portia, and other Attendants
Scene: Partly at Venice and partly at Belmont, the seat of Portia]
ACT I
[Scene I]
Enter Antonio, Salerio, and Solanio.
Ant.
In sooth, I know not why I am so sad;
It wearies me, you say it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff ’tis made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn;
And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.
Sal.
Your mind is tossing on the ocean,
There where your argosies with portly sail
Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood,
Or as it were the pageants of the sea,
Do overpeer the petty traffickers
That cur’sy to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.
Sol.
Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth,
The better part of my affections would
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
Plucking the grass to know where sits the wind,
Piring in maps for ports and piers and roads;
And every object that might make me fear
Misfortune