Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail;

With him is Gratiano gone along;

And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not.

The villain Jew with outcries rais’d the Duke,

Who went with him to search Bassanio’s ship.

He came too late, the ship was under sail;

But there the Duke was given to understand

That in a gondola were seen together

Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica.

Besides, Antonio certified the Duke

They were not with Bassanio in his ship.

I never heard a passion so confus’d,

So strange, outrageous, and so variable

As the dog Jew did utter in the streets.

“My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter!

Fled with a Christian! O my Christian ducats!

Justice! the law! my ducats and my daughter!

A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats,

Of double ducats, stol’n from me by my daughter!

And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones,

Stol’n by my daughter! Justice! find the girl,

She hath the stones upon her and the ducats.”

Why, all the boys in Venice follow him,

Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats.

Let good Antonio look he keep his day

Or he shall pay for this.

Marry, well rememb’red.

I reason’d with a Frenchman yesterday,

Who told me, in the narrow seas that part

The French and English, there miscarried

A vessel of our country richly fraught.

I thought upon Antonio when he told me,

And wish’d in silence that it were not his.

You were best to tell Antonio what you hear,

Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him.

A kinder gentleman treads not the earth.

I saw Bassanio and Antonio part,

Bassanio told him he would make some speed

Of his return. He answered “Do not so,

Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio,

But stay the very riping of the time,

And for the Jew’s bond which he hath of me,

Let it not enter in your mind of love:

Be merry, and employ your chiefest thoughts

To courtship, and such fair ostents of love

As shall conveniently become you there.”

And even there, his eye being big with tears,

Turning his face, he put his hand behind him,

And with affection wondrous sensible

He wrung Bassanio’s hand, and so they parted.

I think he only loves the world for him.

I pray thee, let us go and find him out

And quicken his embraced heaviness

With some delight or other.

Do we so.