The Works of William Shakspere

Gra. Signior Bassanio, -
Gra. I have a suit to you.
Bass.

to Belmont.

Bass. Gratiano! | Lor. Hold here, take this:-tell gentle Jessica,

You have obtain'd it. Gra. You must not deny me: I must go with you [tiano; Bass. Why, then you must. But hear thee. GraThou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice; Parts, that become thee happily enough,

And in such eyes as ours appear not faults;

I will not fail her;-speak it privately: go.
Gentlemen,

[Exit Launcelot.
Will you prepare you for this masque to-night?
I am provided of a torch-bearer.

Salar. Ay, marry, I 'll be gone about it straight.
Solan. And so will I.
Lor.

Meet me and Gratiano

At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence.

But where they are not known, why, there they show Salar. 'T is good we do so. [Ex. Salar, and Solan.

Something too liberal: -pray thee take pain

To allay with some cold drops of modesty

Thy skipping spirit; lest, through thy wild be
I be misconstrued in the place I go to,

And lose my hopes.

Gra.

[haviour,

Signior Bassanio, hear me:

If I do not put on a sober habit,

Talk with respect, and swear but now and then,
Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely;
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say amen;
Use all the observance of civility,

Like one well studied in a sad ostent

To please his grandam, never trust me more.
Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing.
Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night; you shall not gage
By what we do to-night.

Bass.

No, that were pity;

I would entreat you rather to put on

Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends

That purpose merriment: But fare you well,

I have some business.

Gra. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest;

But we will visit you at supper-time.

gage

[ine

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-Venice. A Room in Shylock's
House.

Enter Jessica and Launcelot.

Jes. I am sorry thou wilt leave iny father so;
Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil,
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness:
But fare thee well there is a ducat for thee:
And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest:
Give him this letter; do it secretly,

And so farewell; I would not have my father

See me in talk with thee.

[Exit.

Laun. Adieu!-tears exhibit my tongue. Most beautiful pagan, most sweet Jew! If a Christian did not play the knave and get thee, I am much deceived: But, adieu! these foolish drops do somewhat drown my manly spirit: adieu! Jes. Farewell, good Launcelot. Alack, what heinous sin is it in me, To be asham'd 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.

SCENE IV. - Venice. A Street.

Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica?
Lor. I must needs tell thee all She hath directed
How I shall take her from her father's house;
What gold and jewels she is furnish'd 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; peruse this as thou goest:
Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-Venice. Before Shylock's House.
Enter Shylock and Launcelot.

Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy
The difference ofold Shylock and Bassanio: [judge,
What, Jessica!-thou shalt not gormandize,
As thou hast done with me;-What, Jessica!
And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out-
Why, Jessica, I say! Laun. Why, Jessica!
Shy. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call.
Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me I could
do nothing without bidding.

Shy. What! are there masques? Hear you me,
Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum,
And the vile squealing of the wry-neck'd fife,
Clamber not you up to the casements then,
Nor thrust your head into the public street,
[Exit. To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces:
But stop my house's çars, I mean my casements;
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter
My sober house. By Jacob's staff I swear,
I have no mind of feasting forth to-night:
But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah;
Say, I will come.
Laun.

Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Solanio.
Lor. Nay, we will slink away in supper-time;
Disguise us at my lodging, and return
All in an hour.

Gra. We have not made good preparation.
Salar. We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers.
Solan. "T is vile, unless it may be quaintly order'd;
And better, in my mind, not undertook.
Lor. 'T is now but four o'clock; we have two hours
To furnish us.-

Enter Launcelot, with a letter.

Friend Launcelot, what 's the news? Laun. An it shall please you to break up this, it shall seem to signify.

Lor. I know the hand: In faith 't is a fair hand;
And whiter than the paper it writ on

Is the fair hand that writ.

Gra.

Laun. By your leave, sir.

I will go before, sir.-
Mistress, look out at window, for all this;
There will come a Christian by,

Will be worth a Jewess' eye. [Ex. Laun.
Shy. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha?
Jes. His words were, Farewell, mistress; nothing
else.

Shy. The patch is kind enough; but a huge feeder,
Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day
More than the wild cat: drones hive not with me,
Therefore I part with him; and part with him
To one that I would have him hơ help to waste
His borrow'd purse.--Well, Jessica, go in;
Perhaps, I will return immediately;

Love-news, in faith.

Lor. Whither goest thou?

A proverb never stale in thrifty mind.

[Exit.

Fes. Farewell; and if my fortune be not cross'd,

I have a father, you a daughter, lost.

[Exit

Laun. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew

to sup to-night with any new master the Christian.

SCENE VI. - The same.

Enter Gratiano and Salarino, masqued. Gra. This is the pent-house, under which Lorenzo Desir'd us to make stand.

Salar.

His hour is almost past. Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, For lovers ever run before the clock.

Salar. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly To seal love's bonds new made, than they are wont To keep obliged faith unforfeited!

Gra. That ever holds: who riseth from a feast,
With that keen appetite that he sits down?
Where is the horse that doth untread again
His tedious measures with the unbated fire
That he did pace them first? All things that are,
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd.
How like a younger, or a prodigal,

The scarfed bark puts from her native bay,
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind!
How like a prodigal doth she return;
With over-weather'd ribs, and ragged sails,
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind!

after.

Enter Lorenzo.

Salar. Here comes Lorenzo;-more of this here. [abode: Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for my long Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait: When you shall please to play the thieves for wives, I 'll watch as long for you then.-Approach; Here dwells my father Jew: -Ho! who's within?

Enter Jessica, above, in boy's clothes. Fes. Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty, Albeit I 'll swear that I do know your tongue. Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love.

[thou art.

Jes. Lorenzo, certain; and my love, indeed; For who love I' ove I so much? and now who knows But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours? Lor. Heaven, and thy thoughts, are witness that Jes. Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains. I am glad 't is night, you do not look on me, For I am much asham'd of my exchange: But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit; For if they could, Cupid himself would blush To see me thus transformed to a boy.

Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. Jes. What, must I hold a candle to my shames? They in themselves, good sooth, are too too light. Why, 't is an office of discovery, love; And I should be obscur'd.

Lor. So are you, sweet,

Even in the lovely garnish of a boy.

But come at once;

For the close night doth play the runaway,
And we are staid for at Bassanio's feast.

Jes. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself
With some more ducats, and be with you straight.
[Exit, from above.
Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile and no Jew.
Lor. Beshrew me, but I love her heartily:
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 prov'd herself;
And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true,
Shall she be placed in my constant soul.
Enter Jessica, below.

What, art thou come?-On, gentlemen, away;
Our masquing mates by this time for us stay.

[Exit, with Jessica and Salarino.
Enter Antonio.

Ant. Who's there? Gra. Signior Antonio?
Ant. Fye, fye, Gratiano! where are all the rest ?
'T is nine o'clock: our friends all stay for you:
No masque to-night; the wind is come about;
Bassanio presently will go aboard:
I have sent twenty out to seek for you.
Gra. I am glad on 't; I desire no more delight
Than to be under sail and gone to-night. [Exeunt.

SCENE VII.-Belmont. A Room in Portia's House.
Flourish of Cornets. Enter Portia, with the
Prince of Morocco, and both their trains.
Por. Go, draw aside the curtains, and discover

The several caskets to this noble prince :-
Now make your choice.

Mor. The first, of gold, who this inscription bears:
'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men de-
sire.'
The second, silver, which this promise carries :
'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he de-
serves.'

This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt:
Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.
How shall I know if I do choose the right?
Por. The one of them contains my picture, prince;
If you choose that, then I am yours withal.
Mor. Some god direct my judgment! Let me see.
I will survey the inscriptions back again:
What says this leaden casket?

'Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath. Must give-For what? for lead? hazard for lead? This casket threatens: men that hazard all

Do it in hope of fair advantages:

A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross;
I 'll then nor give, nor hazard, aught for lead.
What says the silver, with her virgin hue ?
'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.'
As much as he deserves? Pause there, Morocco,
And weigh thy value with an even hand:
If thou be'st 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.
As much as I deserve!-Why, that 's the lady:
I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes,
In graces, and in qualities of breeding;
But more than these, in love I do deserve.
What if I stray'd no no further, f but chose here?-
Let's see once more this saying grav'd in gold :
'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men de-
sire.'

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.
The Hyrcanian deserts, and the vasty wilds
Of wide Arabia, are as as through-fares now,
For princes to come view fair Portia:
The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head
Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar
To stop the foreign spirits; but they come,
As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia.

One of these three contains her heavenly picture.
Is 't like that lead contains her? 'T were damnation
To think so base a thought it were too gross
To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave.
Or shall I think in silver she 's immur'd,
Being ten times undervalued to tried gold?
O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem
Was set in worse than gold. They havein England
A coin that bears the figure of an angel
Stamped in gold; but that's insculp'd upon;
But here an angel in a golden bed

Lies all within.-Deliver me the key;
Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may!

Por. There, take it, prince, and if my form lie
Then I am yours.

[there,

[He unlocks the golden casket.

Mor. O hell! what have we here?
A carrion death, within whose empty eye
There is a written scroll? I'll read the writing:

All that glisters is not gold,
Often have you heard that told:
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold:
Gilded tombs do worms infold.
Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgment old,
Your answer had not been inscroll'd:
Fare you well; your suit is cold.'

Cold, indeed; and labour lost:
Then, farewell heat; and welcome frost.-

Portia, adieu! I have too griev'd a heart
To take a tedious leave thus losers part.

[Exit SCENE VIII. -Venice. A Street. Enter Salarino and Solanio.

Solan. The villain Jew with outcries rais'd the What many men desire. That many may be meant

Por. A gentle riddance:-Draw the curtains, go;- That comes to hazard for my worthless self.
Let all of his complexion choose me so.

[Exeunt

Salar. Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail; With him is Gratiano gone along;

And in their ship, I am sure, Lorenzo is not.

Ar. And so have I address'd ine: Fortune now To my heart's hope!-Gold, silver, and base lead. 'Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath:' You shall look fairer, ere I give, or hazard. What says the golden chest? ha! let me see: 'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.

duke;

By the fool multitude, that choose by show,

Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship.

Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach,

Builds in the weather on the outward wall,
Even in the force and road of casualty.
I will not choose what many men desire,
Because I will not jump with common spirits,
And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.
Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house;
Tell me once more what title thou dost bear:

Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves:

Salar. He came too late, the ship was under sail: Which pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet,
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.
Solan. 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,

stones,

Of double ducats, stol'n from me by my daughter!
And jewels; two stones, two rich and precious
Stol'n by my daughter! Justice! find the girl!
She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats!'
Salar. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him.
Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats.
Solan. Let good Antonio look he keep his day,
Or he shall pay for this.

Salar.

Marry, well remember'd:

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.

Solan. You were best to tell Antonio what you hear;
Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him.
Salar. 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 answer'd-'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
Solan.

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.

Salar.

Do we so.

Exeunt.

SCENE IX.-Belmont. A Room in Portia's House.

Enter Nerissa, with a Servant.

And well said too. For who shall go about
To cozen fortune, and be honourable
Without the stamp of merit? Let none presume
To wear an undeserved dignity.
Were not deriv'd corruptly!
O, that estates, degrees, and offices,
Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer!

and that clear honour

[our

How many then should cover that stand bare !
How many be commanded that command!
How much low peasantry would then be glean'd
From the true seed of honour! and how much hon-
Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times,
To be new varnish'd! Well, but to my choice:
Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves:
I will assume desert: Give me a key for this,
And instantly unlock my fortunes here.

Por. Too long a pause for that which you find there.
Ar. What 's here? the portrait of a blinking idiot,
Presenting me a schedule? I will read it.
How much unlike art thou to Portia?

How much unlike my hopes and my deservings?
'Who chooseth me shall have as much as he de-
Did I deserve no more than a fool's head? [serves.
Is that my prize? are my deserts no better?
Por. To offend, and judge, are distinct offices,
And of opposed natures. Ar. What is here?

The fire seven times tried this;
Seven times tried that judgment is
That did never choose amiss:
Some there be that shadows kiss;
Such havo but a shadow's bliss:
There be fools alive, I wis,
Silver'd o'er; and so was this.
Take what wife you will to bed,
I will ever be your head:
So begone; you are sped.'
Still more fool I shall appear
By the time I linger here:
With one fool's head I came to woo,
But I go away with two.
Sweet, adieu! I'll keep my oath,
Patiently to bear my wroth.

[Exeunt Arragon and Train.

Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee, draw the curtain Por. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth. straight;

The prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath, And comes to his election presently.

O these deliberate fools! when they do choose,
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose.
Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy ;-

Flourish of Cornets. Enter the Prince of Arragon, Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.

Portia, and their Trains.

Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince;
If you choose that wherein I am contain'd,
Straight shall our nuptial rites be solcınniz'd;
But if you fail, without more speech, my lord,
You must be gone from hence immediately.
Ar. I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things:
First, never to unfold to any one

Which casket 't was 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.

Por. To these injunctions every one doth swear

Por. No more, I pray thee; I am half afeard,
Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee,
Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him.
Come, come, Nerissa; for I long to see
Quick Cupid's post that comes so mannerly.
Ner. Bassanio, lord love, if thy will it be! [Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I.- Venice. A Street.
Enter Solanio and Salarino.

Solan. Now, what news on the Rialto?
Salar. Why, yet it lives there uncheck'd, that An-
tonio hath a ship of rich lading wracked on the nar-

Salar. We have been up and down to seek him.

Enter Tubal.

Solan. Here comes another of the tribe; a third cannot be matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew. [Exeunt Solan., Salar., and Servant. Shy. How now, Tubal, what news from Genoa? hast thou found my daughter?

Tub. I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot find her.

Shy. Why there, there, there, there! a diamond gone, cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort! The curse never fell upon our nation till now; I never felt it till now;-two thousand ducats in that;

row seas, the Goodwins, I think they call the place; and other precious, precious jewels. I would my a very dangerous flat and fatal, where the carcases daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels in of many a tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossip her ear! 'would she were hears'd at my foot, and report be an honest wonian of her word.

the ducats in her coffin! No news of them?-Why, Solan. I would she were as lying a gossip in that, so:-and I know not how much is spent in the search: as ever knapp'd ginger, or made her neighbours Why, thou loss upon loss! the thief gone with so believe she wept for for the the death of third husband: much, and so much to find the thief; and no satisBut it is true, without any slips of prolixity, or cross- faction, no revenge: nor no ill luck stirring but what ing the plain high-way of talk, that the good An- lights o' my shoulders; no sighs but o' my breathtonio, the honest Antonio, -O that I had a title good enough to keep his name company!

Salar. Come, the full stop.

Solan. Ha, what say'st thou? - Why the end is, he

hath lost a ship.

Salar. I would it might prove the end of his losses! Solan. Let me say amen betimes, lest the devil cross my prayer; for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew.

Enter Shylock.

How now, Shylock? what news among the merchants?

Shy. You knew, none so well, none so well as you, of my daughter's flight.

Salar. That 's certain. I, for my part, knew the tailor that made the wings she flew withal.

Solan. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was fledg'd; and then it is the complexion of them all to leave the dam.

Shy. She is damn'd for it.

Salar. That's certain, if the devil may be her judge.
Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel! [years?
Solan. Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it at these
Shy. I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood.

Salar. There is more difference between thy flesh and hers, than between jet and ivory; more between your bloods, than there is between red wine and rhenish:-But tell us, do you hear whether Antonio have had any loss at sea or no?

Shy. There I have another bad match: a bankrout, a prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto; a beggar, that was used to come so smug upon the mart.-Let him look to his bond: he was wont to call me usurer; -let him look to his bond: he was wont to lend money for a Christian courtesy ;let him look to his bond.

Salar. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his flesh? What's that good for?

ing; no tears but o' my shedding.

Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too. Antonio, as I heard in Genoa,

Shy. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck?
Tub. hath an argosy cast away, coming froin
Tripolis.

[true?

Shy. I thank God, I thank God:-Is it true? is it Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wrack.

Shy. I thank thee, good Tubal; -Good news, good news: ha! ha!-Where? in Genoa?

Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, one night, fourscore ducats!

Shy. Thou stick'st a dagger in me:-I shall never see my gold again: Fourscore ducats at a sitting! fourscore ducats!

Tub. There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my company to Venice, that swear he cannot choose but break.

Shy. I am very glad of it: I'll plague him; I 'll torture him; I am glad of it.

Tub. One of them showed me a ring, that he had of your daughter for a monkey.

Shy. Out upon her! Thou torturest me, Tubal: it was my turquoise; I had it of Leah, when I was a bachelor: I would not have given it for a wilderness of monkeys.

Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone. Shy. Nay, that's true, that's very true: Go, Tubal, fee me an officer, bespeak him a fortnight before, I will have the heart of him, if he forfeit; for were he out of Venice, I can make what merchandize I will: Go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue; go, good Tubal; at our synagogue, Tubal.

[Ex.

SCENE II.-Belmont. A Room in Portia's House. Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, Nerissa, and Attendants. The caskets are set out.

Shy. To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else Por. I pray you, tarry; pause a day or two, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong hindered me half a million; laughed at my losses, I lose your company; therefore, forbear a while: mocked at my gains, scorned iny nation, thwarted There's something tells me, (but it is not love,) my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine ene- I would not lose you; and you know yourself, mies; and what 's his reason? I am a Jew: Hath Hate counsels not in such a quality: not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, di- But lest you should not understand me well, mensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the (And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,) same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to I would detain you here some month or two, the same diseases, healed by the same means, Before you venture for me. I could teach you warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, How to choose right, but then I am forsworn; as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? So will I never be: so may you miss me; if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin. do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not re- That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes, venge? If we are like you in the rest, we will re- They have o'er-looked me, and divided me; semble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, One half of me is yours, the other half yours,what is his humility? revenge: If a Christian wrong ons Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian And so all yours: O! these naughty times example? why, revenge. The villainy you teach Put bars between the owners and their rights; me I will execute; and it shall go hard but I will And so, though yours, not yours.-Prove it so

better the instruction.

Enter a Servant.

Let fortune go to hell for it, not I.
I speak too long; but 't is to peize the time;

Seru. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his To eke it, and to draw it out in length, house, and desires to speak with you both.

To stay you from election.

For, as I am, I live upon the rack.
Por. Upon the rack, Bassanio? then confess
What treason there is mingled with your love.
Bass. None, but that ugly treason of mistrust,
Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love:
There may as well be amity and life

'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love.
Por. Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack,

Where men enforced do speak any thing.

Bass. Promise me life, and I 'll confess the truth.
Por. Well, then, confess and live.

Bass.

Confess, and love,

Had been the very sum of my confession:
O happy torment, when my torturer

Doth teach me answers for deliverance!

But let me to my fortune and the caskets.

Por. Away then: I am lock'd in one of them;

If you do love me, you will find me out.

Nerissa, and the rest, stand all aloof.

Let music sound, while he doth make his choice;
Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end,
Fading in music: that the comparison
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream,
And watery death-bed for him: He may win;
And what is music then? then music is
Even as the flourish when true subjects bow
To a new-crowned monarch: such it is,
As are those dulcet sounds in break of day,
That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear,
And summon him to marriage. Now he goes,
With no less presence, but with much more love,
Than young Alcides, when he did redeem
The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy
To the sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice,
The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives,
With bleared visages, come forth to view
The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules!
Live thou, I live:-With much much more dismay
I view the fight, than thou that mak'st the fray.

Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge
'Tween man and man. But thou, thou meagre lead,
Which rather threat'nest than dost promise aught,
Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence,
And here choose 1. Joy be the consequence!
Por. How all the other passions fleet to air,
As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embrac'd despair,
And shudd'ring fear, and green-ey'd jealousy.
O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstacy,
In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess;
I feel too much thy blessing, make it less,
For fear I surfeit!

Bass. What find I here? [Opening the leaden casket.

Fair Portia's counterfeit? What demi-god
Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes?
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine,
Seem they in motion? Here are sever'd lips,
Parted with sugar breath; so sweet a bar

Should sunder such sweet friends: Here in her hairs
The painter plays the spider; and hath woven
A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men,
Faster than gnats in cobwebs: But her eyes,-
How could he see to do them? having made one,
Methinks it should have power to steal both his,
And leave itself unfurnish'd: Yet look, how far
The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow
In underprising it, so far this shadow
Doth limp behind the substance.-Here's the scroll,
The continent and summary of my fortune.

'You that choose not by the view,
Chance as fair, and choose as true!
Since this fortune falls to you,
Be content, and seek no new.
If you be well pleas'd with this,
And hold your fortune for your bliss,
Turn you where your lady is,

And claim her with a loving kiss.'

A gentle scroll.-Fair lady, by your leave:

[Kissing her.

I come by note, to give and to receive. Music, whilst Bassanio comments on the caskets to Like one of two contending in a prize,

All.

himself.
SONG.

1. Tell me where is fancy bred,
Or in the heart, or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?

Reply, reply.

2. It is engender'd in the eyes,
With gazing fed; and fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies:

Let us all ring fancy's knell;
I'll begin it, Ding, dong, bell.
Ding, dong, bell.

Bass. So may the outward shows be least them.
The world is still deceiv'd with ornament. [selves;
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,
But, being season'd with a gracious voice,
Obscures the show of evil? In religion,
What damned error, but some sober brow
Will bless it, and approve it with a text.
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?
There is no vice so simple, but assumes
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts.
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false
As stayers of sand, wear yet upon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars,
Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk;
And these assume but valour's excrement,
To render them redoubted! Look on beauty,
And you shall see 't is purchas'd by the weight;
Which therein works a miracle in nature,
Making them lightest that wear most of it:
So are those crisped snaky golden locks,

That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes,
Hearing applause and universal shout,
Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt
Whether those peals of praise be his or no;
So, thrice fair lady, stand I, even so;
As doubtful whether what I see be true,
Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you.
Por. You see me, lord Bassanio, where I stand,

Such as I am: though, for myself alone,
I would not be ambitious in my wish,

To wish myself much better; yet, for you,
I would be trebled twenty times myself;
A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times
More rich;

That only to stand high in your account,
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,
Exceed account: but the full sum of me
Is sum of nothing; which, to term in gross,
Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd:
Happy in this, she is not yet so old
But she may learn; happier than this,
She is not bred so dull but she can learn;
Happiest of all, is, that her gentle spirit
Commits itself to yours to be directed,
As from her lord, her governor, her king.
Myself, and what is mine, to you and yours
Is now converted: but now I was the lord
Of this fair mansion, master of my servants,
Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now,
This house, these servants, and this same myself,
Are yours, my lord, -I give them with this ring;
Which when you part from, lose, or give away,
Let it presage the ruin of your love,

Which make such wanton gambols with the wind, And be my vantage to exclaim on you.

Upon supposed fairness, often known

To be

the dowry of a second head,

The scull that bred them in the sepulchre.
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore
To

a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf

Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word,

The seeming truth which cunning times put on
To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold,
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee:

Bass. Madam, you have bereft me of all words,
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins:
And there is such confusion in my powers,
As, after some oration fairly spoke

By a beloved prince, there doth appear
Among the buzzing pleased multitude;
Where every something, being blent together,
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy,

Express'd, and not express'd: But when this ring

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