The Merchant of Venice, Act 1, Scene 3

Three thousand ducats, well.

Three thousand ducats, all right.

Ay, sir, for three months.

Yes, sir, for three months.

For three months, well.

For three months, all right.

For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound.

And for it, as I told you, Antonio will be the one bound by the agreement.

Antonio shall become bound, well.

Antonio will be bound by it, all right.

May you stead me? Will you pleasure me? Shall I know your answer?

Can you help me? Will you do me this favour? May I have your answer?

Three thousand ducats for three months, and Antonio bound.

Three thousand ducats for three months, and Antonio bound.

Your answer to that.

Your answer to that.

Antonio is a good man.

Antonio is a good man.

Have you heard any imputation to the contrary?

Have you heard any accusation that says otherwise?

Ho, no, no, no, no: my meaning in saying he is a good man is to have you understand me that he is sufficient. Yet his means are in supposition: he hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies. I understand, moreover, upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England, and other ventures he hath squandered abroad. But ships are but boards, sailors but men; there be land-rats and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves—I mean pirates—and then there is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks. The man is, notwithstanding, sufficient. Three thousand ducats. I think I may take his bond.

Oh, no, no, no, no: what I mean by calling him a good man is that you should understand he has enough to cover it. Still, his wealth is only a guess: he has a fleet bound for Tripolis, another for the Indies. I hear too, on the Rialto, that he has a third at Mexico, a fourth heading for England, and other ventures he has scattered abroad. But ships are only planks, and sailors only men; there are land-rats and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves — I mean pirates — and then there is the danger of the seas, the winds, and the rocks. All the same, the man has enough. Three thousand ducats. I think I can accept his bond.

Be assured you may.

You can be sure you can.

I will be assured I may. And that I may be assured, I will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio?

I will make sure that I can. And so that I can be sure, I will think it over. May I speak with Antonio?

If it please you to dine with us.

If you would like to have dinner 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, talk with you, walk with you, and so following; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with you. What news on the Rialto? Who is he comes here?

Yes, to smell pork, to eat out of the dwelling that your prophet, the Nazarite, drove the devil into. I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so on; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, or pray with you. What is the news on the Rialto? Who is this coming here?

This is Signior Antonio.

This is Signior Antonio.

[Aside.] How like a fawning publican he looks! I hate him for he is a Christian, But more for that in low simplicity He lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice. If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. He hates our sacred nation, and he rails, Even there where merchants most do congregate, On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe If I forgive him!

[Aside.] How like a fawning tax collector he looks! I hate him because he is a Christian, but more because in his stupid simplicity he lends out money free of charge, and drives down the rate of interest here with us in Venice. If I can once catch him at a disadvantage, I will feed fat the old grudge I have against him. He hates our holy nation, and he abuses me, even in the very place where merchants gather most, abuses my deals and my hard-earned profits, which he calls interest. May my tribe be cursed if I forgive him!

Shylock, do you hear?

Shylock, are you listening?

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. What of that? Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, Will furnish me. But soft! how many months Do you desire? [To Antonio.] Rest you fair, good signior, Your worship was the last man in our mouths.

I am working out how much I have on hand at present, and as near as I can remember I cannot immediately raise the whole sum of three thousand ducats. What of it? Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, will supply me. But wait! How many months do you want? [To Antonio.] Good day to you, good sir, your worship was the very man we were talking about.

Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor borrow By taking nor by giving of excess, Yet to supply the ripe wants of my friend, I’ll break a custom. [To Bassanio.] Is he yet possess’d How much ye would?

Shylock, although I neither lend nor borrow at interest, either taking it or paying it, still, to meet the urgent needs of my friend, I will break my habit. [To Bassanio.] Has he been told yet how much you want?

Ay, ay, three thousand ducats.

Yes, yes, three thousand ducats.

And for three months.

And for three months.

I had forgot, three months, you told me so. Well then, your bond. And let me see, but hear you, Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow Upon advantage.

I had forgotten — three months, you did tell me so. Well then, your bond. And let me see — but listen, I thought you said you neither lend nor borrow at interest.

I do never use it.

I never do it.

When Jacob graz’d his uncle Laban’s sheep,— This Jacob from our holy Abram was As his wise mother wrought in his behalf, The third possessor; ay, he was the third.

When Jacob grazed his uncle Laban's sheep — this Jacob was the third to inherit from our holy Abram, since his clever mother worked things in his favour; yes, he was the third.

And what of him? Did he take interest?

And what about him? Did he take interest?

No, not take interest, not, as you would say, Directly interest; mark what Jacob did. When Laban and himself were compromis’d That all the eanlings which were streak’d and pied Should fall as Jacob’s hire, the ewes being rank In end of autumn turned to the rams, And when the work of generation was Between these woolly breeders in the act, The skilful shepherd pill’d me certain wands, And in the doing of the deed of kind, He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes, Who then conceiving did in eaning time Fall parti-colour’d lambs, and those were Jacob’s. This was a way to thrive, and he was blest; And thrift is blessing if men steal it not.

No, he did not take interest — not what you would call interest outright; notice what Jacob did. When Laban and he had agreed that all the newborn lambs that came out striped and spotted should go to Jacob as his wages, and the ewes, being in heat at the end of autumn, were put to the rams, and while the work of breeding was going on between these woolly breeders, the clever shepherd peeled certain sticks, and while the act of nature was being done, he set them up in front of the ewes in heat, who then conceived, and at lambing time gave birth to multicoloured lambs, and those were Jacob's. That was a way to prosper, and he was blessed; and profit is a blessing, so long as men do not steal it.

This was a venture, sir, that Jacob serv’d for, A thing not in his power to bring to pass, But sway’d and fashion’d by the hand of heaven. Was this inserted to make interest good? Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams?

That was a risk, sir, that Jacob worked for, a thing not in his own power to bring about, but directed and shaped by the hand of heaven. Was that story put in to justify taking interest? Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams?

I cannot tell; I make it breed as fast. But note me, signior.

I cannot say; I make it breed just as quickly. But listen to me, sir.

Mark you this, Bassanio, The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. An evil soul producing holy witness Is like a villain with a smiling cheek, A goodly apple rotten at the heart. O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!

Notice this, Bassanio: the devil can quote Scripture for his own ends. An evil soul bringing forward holy proof is like a villain with a smiling face, a fine-looking apple rotten at the core. Oh, what a handsome outside falsehood has!

Three thousand ducats, ’tis a good round sum. Three months from twelve, then let me see the rate.

Three thousand ducats — that is a good round sum. Three months out of twelve; now let me work out the rate.

Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you?

Well, Shylock, are we going to be in your debt?

Signior Antonio, many a time and oft In the Rialto you have rated me About my moneys and my usances. Still have I borne it with a patient shrug, (For suff’rance is the badge of all our tribe.) You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, And spet upon my Jewish gaberdine, And all for use of that which is mine own. Well then, it now appears you need my help. Go to, then, you come to me, and you say “Shylock, we would have moneys.” You say so: You that did void your rheum upon my beard, And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur Over your threshold, moneys 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 bondman’s key, With bated breath and whisp’ring humbleness, Say this: “Fair sir, you spet on me on Wednesday last; You spurn’d me such a day; another time You call’d me dog; and for these courtesies I’ll lend you thus much moneys”?

Signior Antonio, many and many a time in the Rialto you have scolded me about my money and my lending at interest. I have always put up with it with a patient shrug, (since endurance is the badge of our whole tribe.) You call me an unbeliever, a cut-throat dog, and you spit on my Jewish coat, and all because I use what is my own. Well then, now it turns out you need my help. Come on, then: you come to me and you say, "Shylock, we would like some money." That is what you say — you who emptied your spit onto my beard, and kicked me the way you kick a stray dog off your doorstep. Money is what you are asking for. What should I say to you? Shouldn't I say, "Does a dog have money? Is it possible for a mongrel to lend three thousand ducats?" Or should I bow low and, in the voice of a slave, with held breath and whispering humility, say this: "Fair sir, you spat on me last Wednesday; you kicked me on such a day; another time you called me a dog; and for these kindnesses I will lend you this much money"?

I am as like to call thee so again, To spet on thee again, to spurn thee too. If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not As to thy friends, for when did friendship take A breed for barren metal of his friend? But lend it rather to thine enemy, Who if he break, thou mayst with better face Exact the penalty.

I am just as likely to call you that again, to spit on you again, and to kick you too. If you will lend this money, do not lend it as to your friends — for when did friendship ever take interest, offspring bred from barren metal, from a friend? Lend it rather to your enemy, who, if he fails to pay, will let you demand the penalty with a better face.

Why, look you how you storm! I would be friends with you, and have your love, Forget the shames that you have stain’d me with, Supply your present wants, and take no doit Of usance for my moneys, and you’ll not hear me, This is kind I offer.

Why, look how you rage! I want to be friends with you and have your goodwill, to forget the disgraces you have stained me with, to supply what you need now, and to take not one penny of interest for my money — and you will not listen to me. What I am offering is kindness.

This were kindness.

This would be kindness.

This kindness will I show. Go with me to a notary, seal me there Your single bond; and in a merry sport, If you repay me not on such a day, In such a place, such sum or sums as are Express’d in the condition, let the forfeit Be nominated for an equal pound Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken In what part of your body pleaseth me.

This is the kindness I will show. Come with me to a notary, and seal your bond there in your own name alone; and, as a bit of fun, if you do not repay me on a certain day, in a certain place, the sum or sums set down in the agreement, let the penalty be named as exactly one pound of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken from whatever part of your body I choose.

Content, in faith, I’ll seal to such a bond, And say there is much kindness in the Jew.

Agreed, truly, I will put my seal to such a bond, and I will say the Jew is being very kind.

You shall not seal to such a bond for me, I’ll rather dwell in my necessity.

You shall not seal such a bond for my sake; I would rather stay in my need.

Why, fear not, man, I will not forfeit it, Within these two months, that’s a month before This bond expires, I do expect return Of thrice three times the value of this bond.

Why, don't be afraid, man, I will not forfeit it. Within the next two months — that is a month before this bond falls due — I expect returns worth nine times the value of this bond.

O father Abram, what these Christians are, Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect The thoughts of others. Pray you, tell me this, If he should break his day, what should I gain By the exaction of the forfeiture? A pound of man’s flesh, taken from a man, Is not so estimable, profitable neither, As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say, To buy his favour, I extend this friendship. If he will take it, so. If not, adieu, And for my love I pray you wrong me not.

Oh father Abram, what these Christians are — their own harsh dealings teach them to suspect other people's thoughts. Please, tell me this: if he should miss his day, what would I gain by demanding the forfeit? A pound of a man's flesh, taken from a man, is not so valuable, nor so profitable either, as the flesh of sheep, oxen, or goats. I tell you, I am offering this friendship to win his goodwill. If he will take it, fine. If not, goodbye — and for the sake of my goodwill, please do not wrong me.

Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond.

Yes, Shylock, I will put my seal to this bond.

Then meet me forthwith at the notary’s, Give him direction for this merry bond, And I will go and purse the ducats straight, See to my house left in the fearful guard Of an unthrifty knave, and presently I’ll be with you.

Then meet me right away at the notary's, give him instructions for this merry bond, and I will go and get the ducats together at once, look to my house, which is left in the nervous care of a wasteful servant, and I will be with you immediately.

Hie thee, gentle Jew.

Hurry, kind Jew.

This Hebrew will turn Christian; he grows kind.

This Hebrew will turn Christian; he is growing kind.

I like not fair terms and a villain’s mind.

I do not like generous terms joined to a villain's mind.

Come on; in this there can be no dismay; My ships come home a month before the day.

Come on; there can be nothing to worry about in this. My ships come home a month before the day.