书城公版Merchant of Venice
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第20章

Gives Bassanio a letter BASSANIO Ere I ope his letter, I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth. SALERIO Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind;Nor well, unless in mind: his letter there Will show you his estate. GRATIANO Nerissa, cheer yon stranger; bid her welcome.

Your hand, Salerio: 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. SALERIO I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost. PORTIA There are some shrewd contents in yon same paper, That steals 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 engaged myself to a dear friend, Engaged 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, Salerio?

Have 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? SALERIO 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 ******* 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 [Reads] 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 cleared 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, No rest be interposer 'twixt us twain.