« 이전계속 »
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.
Mistress, look out at window, for all this;
There will come a Christian by,
Will be worth a Jewess' eye. [Exit Laun. Sby. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha? Jef. His words were, Farewel, mistress; nothing else.
Sby. The patch is kind enough; but a huge feeder, Snail-Now in profit, and he neeps 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; Do, as I bid you, Shut the doors after you: Fast bind, fast find; A proverb never stale in thrifty mind.
[Exit. Jef. Farewel ; and if my fortune be not croft, I have a father, you a daughter, loft.
S CE NE VI.
Enter Gratiano, and Solanio, in masquerade.
Gra. This is the pent-house, under which Lorenzo
Desir'd us to make stand.
Sol. His hour is past.
Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour,
For lovers ever run before the clock. '
Sol. O, ten times faster ? Venus' pigeons fly
z Venus' pigeons] - love's votaries. VOL. II.
To feal 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 * skarfed 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 fails,
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind !
Sol. Here comes Lorenzo ;-more of this hereafter.
Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode;
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 ?
Jessica above in boy's cloatbs.
Fef. Who are you? tell me, for more certainty,
Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue.
Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love.
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. Jef. Here, catch this casket ; it is worth the pains.
I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me,
For I am much alham'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, muft I hold a candle to my shames ?
They in themselves, good footh, 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.
Yes. 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 proy'd herself;
And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true,
Shall she be placed in my constant soul.
Enter Jelica, below.
What, art thou come ?-On, gentlemen, away;
Our masquing mates by this time for us stay.
[Exit, with Jessica &c.
by my bood,]-habit, a monkish oath.
Gentile,-(a pun)- heathen, and well born-gentle.
Anth. Who's there?
Gra. Signior Anthonio ?
· Anth. 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 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 fail, and gone to-night. [Exeunt.
Enter Portia, with the Prince of Morocco, and both their
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 ;-
Wbo chuseth me, fall gain what many men defire.
The second, silver, which this promise carries ;-
Wbo chuseth me, shall get as much as be deferves.
This third, dull lead, with warning all as 'blunt ;
Who chuseth me, must give and hazard all be bath.-
How shall I know if I do chuse the right?
Por. The one of them contains my picture, prince ; If you chuse that, then I am yours withal.
Mor. Some god direct my judgment ! Let me see, I will survey the inscriptions back again :
e who and which were us'd indiscriminately in our author's time. i blunt ; ]-coarse.
What says this leaden casket ?
Wbo chuseth me, must give and hazard all be bath.
Muft 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 8 shows of dross ;
I'll then nor give, nor hazard, ought for lead.
What says the silver, with her virgin hue ?
Wbo cbuseth me, fall 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 doft 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 myfelf,
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 farther, but chose here? -
Let's see once more this saying gravid in gold.
Wbo chuseth me, shall gain wbat many men defire.
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 faint.
The Hyrcanian deserts, and the vasty wilds
Of wide Arabia, are as thorough-fares now,
For princes to come view fair Portia :
The watry kingdom, whose ambitious head
Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar
To itop the foreign spirits; but they come,
As o'er a brook, to fee fair Portia.
8 flows of dross ;]--what hath the resemblance of.