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       Will show you his estate.

       GRATIANO.

       Nerissa, cheer yon stranger; bid her welcome.

       Your hand, Salanio. What’s the news from Venice?

       How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio?

       I know he will be glad of our success:

       We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece.

       SALANIO.

       I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost.

       PORTIA.

       There are some shrewd contents in yon same paper.

       That steal the colour from Bassanio’s cheek:

       Some dear friend dead, else nothing in the world

       Could turn so much the constitution

       Of any constant man. What, worse and worse!

       With leave, Bassanio: I am half yourself,

       And I must freely have the half of anything

       That this same paper brings you.

       BASSANIO.

       O sweet Portia!

       Here are a few of the unpleasant’st words

       That ever blotted paper. Gentle lady,

       When I did first impart my love to you,

       I freely told you all the wealth I had

       Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman;

       And then I told you true. And yet, dear lady,

       Rating myself at nothing, you shall see

       How much I was a braggart. When I told you

       My state was nothing, I should then have told you

       That I was worse than nothing; for indeed

       I have engag’d myself to a dear friend,

       Engag’d my friend to his mere enemy,

       To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady,

       The paper as the body of my friend,

       And every word in it a gaping wound

       Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salanio?

       Hath all his ventures fail’d? What, not one hit?

       From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England,

       From Lisbon, Barbary, and India?

       And not one vessel scape the dreadful touch

       Of merchant-marring rocks?

       SALANIO.

       Not one, my lord.

       Besides, it should appear that, if he had

       The present money to discharge the Jew,

       He would not take it. Never did I know

       A creature that did bear the shape of man,

       So keen and greedy to confound a man.

       He plies the duke at morning and at night,

       And doth impeach the freedom of the state,

       If they deny him justice. Twenty merchants,

       The duke himself, and the magnificoes

       Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him;

       But none can drive him from the envious plea

       Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond.

       JESSICA.

       When I was with him, I have heard him swear

       To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen,

       That he would rather have Antonio’s flesh

       Than twenty times the value of the sum

       That he did owe him; and I know, my lord,

       If law, authority, and power, deny not,

       It will go hard with poor Antonio.

       PORTIA.

       Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble?

       BASSANIO.

       The dearest friend to me, the kindest man,

       The best condition’d and unwearied spirit

       In doing courtesies; and one in whom

       The ancient Roman honour more appears

       Than any that draws breath in Italy.

       PORTIA.

       What sum owes he the Jew?

       BASSANIO.

       For me, three thousand ducats.

       PORTIA.

       What! no more?

       Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond;

       Double six thousand, and then treble that,

       Before a friend of this description

       Shall lose a hair through Bassanio’s fault.

       First go with me to church and call me wife,

       And then away to Venice to your friend;

       For never shall you lie by Portia’s side

       With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold

       To pay the petty debt twenty times over:

       When it is paid, bring your true friend along.

       My maid Nerissa and myself meantime,

       Will live as maids and widows. Come, away!

       For you shall hence upon your wedding day.

       Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer;

       Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear.

       But let me hear the letter of your friend.

       BASSANIO. ‘Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all miscarried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low, my bond to the Jew is forfeit; and since, in paying it, it is impossible I should live, all debts are clear’d between you and I, if I might but see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your pleasure; if your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter.’

       PORTIA.

       O love, dispatch all business and be gone!

       BASSANIO.

       Since I have your good leave to go away,

       I will make haste; but, till I come again,

       No bed shall e’er be guilty of my stay,

       Nor rest be interposer ‘twixt us twain.

       [Exeunt.]