Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love.

Shy. What are there masques? Hear you me,
Jessica :

Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum,
And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fife,
Clamber not you up to the casements then,
Nor thrust your head into the public street,
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces:
But stop my house's ears, 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.
I will go before, sir.-
M.stress, look out at window, for all this;
There will come a Christian by,
Will be worth a Jewess' eye. [Exit 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 help to waste
His borrow'd purse.-Well, Jessica, go in ;
Perhaps, I will return immediately;
Da, as I bid you,

Shut doors after you: Fast bind. fast find;
A proverb never stale in thrifty mind."

[Exit.

Jes. Farewell: and if my fortune be not cros!, I have a father, you a daughter, lost.

SCENE VI.-The same.

[Exil.

Jes. Lorenzo, certain; and my love, indeed; For who love I so much? And now who knows, But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours?

Lor. Heaven, and thy thoughts, are witness that

thou art.

Jes. Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains. I am glad 'tis 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, 'tis 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 run-away,
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.
[Exil, from above.
Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew.
Lor. Beshrew ine, 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.

Salarino, masked.

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

I

Ant. Who's there?
Gra. Signior Antonio?

go

Ant. Fie, fie, Gratiano? where are all the rest? 'Tis nine o'clock; our friends all stay for you:No masque to-night; the wind is come about, Bassanio presently will aboard: 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. Exe. 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 desire. The second; silver, which this promise carries ;Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves. The 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?

Per. 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

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 7-Pause there, Morocco,
And weigh the value with an even hand:
Ithou 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 further, but chose here;-
Let's see once more this saying grav'd in gold:
Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire.
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 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? "Twere damnation,
To think so base a thought; it were too gross
To rib her cerccloth in the obscure grave.
Or shall I think, in silver she's immur'd,
Being ten times undervalued to try'd gold?
O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem
Was set in worse than gold. They have in England
A coin, that bears the figure of an angel
Stamped in gold: but that's insculp'd
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
there,
Then I am yours.
[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.

upon;

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.

[Erit.

Portia, adieu! I have too griev'd a heart
To take a tedious leave: thus losers part.
Por. A gentle riddance:-Draw the curtains,
go

Let all of his complexion choose me so. [Exeunt. SCENE VIII.-Venice. A street. Enter Salarino and Salanio.

Salar. Why man, I saw Bassanio under sail; With him is Gratiano gone along; And in their ship, I am sure, Lorenzo is not.

(1) Enclose.! (2) Engraven. (3) Conversed. (4) To slubber is to do a thing carelessly

Salan. The villain Jew with outcries rais'd the duke;

Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship.

Salar. He came too late, the ship was under sail. But there the duke was given to understand, That in a condola were seen together Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica: Besides, Antonio certify'd the duke, They were not with Bassanio in his ship. Salan. 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!

Salar. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him, Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats, Salan. Let good Antonio look he keep his day, Or h: 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. Salan. 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,
Stubber 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.
Salan. 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.

[Exeunt.

Salar. SCENE IX.-Belmont. A room in Portia's house. Enter Nerissa, with a servant. Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee, draw the curtain straight;

The prince of Arragon has ta'en his oath,
And comes to his election presently.
Flourish of cornets. Enter the prince of Arragon,
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 solemniz'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

(5) Shows, tokens.

(6) The heaviness he is fond of.

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 wat'ry 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.
Music, whilst Bassanio comments on the caskets to
himself.

SONG.

1. Tell me, where is fancy bred, Or in the heart, or in the head? How begot, howo nourished? 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; rl! begin it,- -Ding, dong, bell. All. Ding, dong, bell.

As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embrac'd despair,
And shudd'ring fear and green-ey'd jealousy.
O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy,
In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess:
I feel too much thy blessing, make it icss,
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 underprizing 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.

selves;

The world is still deceiv'd with ornament.
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 stairs 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 'tis 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,
Which make such wanton gambols with the wind,
Upon supposed fairness, of en 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:
Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge
Tween man and man: but thou, thou meagre lead,
Which rather threat'nest, than do'h promise aught,
Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence!
And here choose I: Joy be the consequence!
Pur. How all the other passions fleet to air,

[Kissing her. I come by note, to give, and to receive. Like one of two contending in a prize, 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 on your account,
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,
Exceed account: but the full sum of me
Is sum of something; 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; and 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,
And be my vantage to exclaim on you.