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Scene Study (Male-Male)


Well, tell me now what lady is the same

To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,

That you today promis’d to tell me of?


’Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,

How much I have disabled mine estate,

By something showing a more swelling port

Than my faint means would grant continuance.

Nor do I now make moan to be abridg’d

From such a noble rate, but my chief care

Is to come fairly off from the great debts

Wherein my time something too prodigal

Hath left me gag’d. To you, Antonio,

I owe the most in money and in love,

And from your love I have a warranty

To unburden all my plots and purposes

How to get clear of all the debts I owe.


I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it,

And if it stand, as you yourself still do,

Within the eye of honor, be assur’d

My purse, my person, my extremest means,

Lie all unlock’d to your occasions.


In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft,

I shot his fellow of the self-same flight

The self-same way with more advised watch

To find the other forth, and by adventuring both

I oft found both. I urge this childhood proof,

Because what follows is pure innocence.

I owe you much, and like a willful youth,

That which I owe is lost, but if you please

To shoot another arrow that self way

Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,

As I will watch the aim, or to find both

Or bring your latter hazard back again,

And thankfully rest debtor for the first.


You know me well, and herein spend but time

To wind about my love with circumstance,

And out of doubt you do me now more wrong

In making question of my uttermost

Than if you had made waste of all I have.

Then do but say to me what I should do

That in your knowledge may by me be done,

And I am prest unto it; therefore speak.


In Belmont is a lady richly left,

And she is fair and, fairer than that word,

Of wondrous virtues. Sometimes from her eyes

I did receive fair speechless messages.

Her name is Portia, nothing undervalu’d

To Cato’s daughter, Brutus’ Portia.

Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth,

For the four winds blow in from every coast

Renowned suitors, and her sunny locks

Hang on her temples like a golden fleece,

Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchis’ strond,

And many Jasons come in quest of her.

O my Antonio, had I but the means

To hold a rival place with one of them,

I have a mind presages me such thrift

That I should questionless be fortunate!


Thou know’st that all my fortunes are at sea,

Neither have I money nor commodity

To raise a present sum; therefore go forth,

Try what my credit can in Venice do.

That shall be rack’d, even to the uttermost,

To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia.

Go presently inquire, and so will I,

Where money is, and I no question make

To have it of my trust, or for my sake.


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