Merchant of Venice: Act 2 Flashcards
Mislike me not for my complexion,
The shadowed livery of the burnished sun,
Morroco to Portia
And let us make incision for your love
Morroco to Portia
I would not change this hue
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen.
Morroco to Portia
Besides, the lottery of my destiny
Bars me the right of voluntary choosing.
Portia to Morroco
But if my father had not scanted me
And hedged me by his wit to yield myself
His wife who wins me by that means I told you,
Yourself, renownèd Prince, then stood as fair
Portia to Morroco
Therefore I pray you lead me to the caskets
To try my fortune.
Morroco to Portia
You must take your chance,
And either not attempt to choose at all
Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong
Never to speak to lady afterward
In way of marriage. Therefore be advised.
Portia to Morroco
First, forward to the temple. After dinner
Your hazard shall be made
Portia to Morroco
Certainly my conscience will serve me to run from this Jew, my master.
Launcelot to himself
The fiend gives the more friendly counsel. I will run, fiend. My heels are at your command. I will run.
Launcelot to himself
Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to
Master Jew’s?
Old Gobbo to Launcelot Gobbo
Nay, indeed if you had your eyes, you might fail of the knowing me. It is a wise father that knows his own child.
Launcelot to old Gobbo
My master’s a very Jew. Give him a present. Give him a halter. I am famished in his service. You may tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come. Give me your present to one Master Bassanio, who indeed gives rare new liveries.
Launcelot to his father
I know thee well. Thou hast obtained thy suit.
Shylock thy master spoke with me this day,
And hath preferred thee, if it be preferment
To leave a rich Jew’s service, to become
The follower of so poor a gentleman.
Bassanio to Lancelot
You must not deny me. I must go with you to Belmont
Gratiano to Bassanio
Thou art too wild, too rude and bold of voice—
Bassanio to Gratiano
Thy skipping spirit, lest through thy wild behavior
I be misconst’red in the place I go to,
And lose my hopes.
Bassanio to Gratiano
Nay, but I bar tonight. You shall not gauge me
By what we do tonight.
Gratiano to Bassanio
I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so.
Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil
Jessica to Lancelot
And Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see Lorenzo, who is thy new master’s guest. Give him this letter. (gives LAUNCELOT a letter) Do it secretly.
Jessica to Lancelot
Alack, what heinous sin is it in me To be ashamed to be my father’s child! But though I am a daughter to his blood, I am not to his manners. O Lorenzo, If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, Become a Christian and thy loving wife.
Jessica to herself
I know the hand. In faith, ’tis a fair hand,
And whiter than the paper it writ on
Is the fair hand that writ.
Lorenzo to Gratiano
She hath directed
How I shall take her from her father’s house,
What gold and jewels she is furnished with,
What page’s suit she hath in readiness.
If e’er the Jew her father come to heaven,
It will be for his gentle daughter’s sake.
And never dare Misfortune cross her foot
Unless she do it under this excuse:
That she is issue to a faithless Jew.
Come, go with me.
Lorenzo to Gratiano
Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge,
The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio.
Shylock to Lancelot
Look to my house. I am right loath to go.
There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest,
For I did dream of money bags tonight.
Shylock to Jessica
Lock up my doors, and when you hear the drum
And the vile squealing of the wry-necked fife,
Clamber not you up to the casements then,
Nor thrust your head into the public street
To gaze on Christian fools with varnished face
Shylock to Jessica
Farewell, and if my fortune be not crost,
I have a father, you a daughter, lost.
Jessica to Shylock
I am glad ’tis night, you do not look on me,
For I am much ashamed of my exchange.
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see
Jessica to Lorenzo
For she is wise, if I can judge of her.
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true.
And true she is, as she hath proved herself.
And therefore, like herself—wise, fair and true—
Shall she be placèd in my constant soul.
Lorenzo to Jessica
Must give—for what? For lead? Hazard for lead?
This casket threatens. Men that hazard all
Do it in hope of fair advantages
Morroco to Portia
If thou beest rated by thy estimation, Thou dost deserve enough, and yet enough May not extend so far as to the lady, And yet to be afeard of my deserving Were but a weak disabling of myself.
Morroco to Portia
Why, that’s the lady. All the world desires her.
From the four corners of the earth they come
To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint
Morroco to Portia
Never so rich a gem
Was set in worse than gold.
Morroco to Portia
A gentle riddance.—Draw the curtains, go.—
Let all of his complexion choose me so.
Portia to Nerissa?
Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail.
With him is Gratiano gone along.
And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not.
Salerio to Salanio
“My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter,
Fled with a Christian! O my Christian ducats!
Shylock himself but salerio to solanio
The French and English, there miscarried
A vessel of our country richly fraught.
I thought upon Antonio when he told me,
And wished in silence that it were not his.
Salerio to Solanio
Turning his face, he put his hand behind him,
And with affection wondrous sensible
He wrung Bassanio’s hand. And so they parted
Salerio to Solanio
Quick, quick, I pray thee. Draw the curtain straight.
The Prince of Arragon hath ta’en his oath
And comes to his election presently.
Nerissa to Portia
I am enjoined by oath to observe three things:
First, never to unfold to any one
Which casket ’twas I chose; next, if I fail
Of the right casket, never in my life
To woo a maid in way of marriage; lastly,
If I do fail in fortune of my choice,
Immediately to leave you and be gone.
Arragon to Portia
You shall look fairer ere I give or hazard.
Arragon to Portia
By the fool multitude that choose by show,
Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach;
Which pries not to th’ interior, but like the martlet
Builds in the weather on the outward wall,
Arragon to Portia
I will not choose what many men desire
Because I will not jump with common spirits
Arragon to Portia
Did I deserve no more than a fool’s head?
Is that my prize? Are my deserts no better?
Arragon to Portia
