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. 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 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.

[bears ;Mor. The first of gold, who this inscription '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.'

This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt;
'Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he
How shall I know if I do choose the right? [hath.'
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
I will survey the inscriptions back again: [see,
What says this leaden casket?

[hath.' "Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he 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 de-
scrves.'

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 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 damna-

tion,

[land

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 tryed gold?
O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem
Was set in worse than gold. They have in Eng-
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! [there,
Por. There, take it, prince, and if my forin lie
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.
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 unfold,

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 loosers part. [exi
Por. A gentle riddance.-Draw the curtains, g
Let all of his complexion choose me so. [exeun

SCENE VII. 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.

Sulan. The villain Jew with outcries rais'd the

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 the 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

|

I will assume desert;—give me a key for this,
And instantly unlock my fortunes here.

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

[exeunt. How much unlike my hopes, and my deservings? 'Who chooseth me, shall have as much as he deserves.'

SCENE IX. BELMONT. A ROOM IN PORTIA'S HOUSE.
Enter Nerissa, with a servant.

Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee, draw the cur- Did I deserve no more than a fool's head?

ACT III.

Enter Salanio, and Salarino. Salan. Now, what news on the Rialto? Salar. Why, yet it lives there uncheck'd, that Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wreck'd on the narrow seas; the Goodwins, I think they call the place; a very dangerous flat, and fatal, where the carcases of many a tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossip report be an honest woman of her word.

Salan. I would she were as lying a gossip in that, as ever knapp'd ginger, or made her neighbours believe she wept for the death of a third husband: but it is true, without any slips of prolixity, or crossing the plain highway of talk, that the good Antonio, the honest Antonio,O that I had a title good enough to keep his name company!

Salar. Come, the full stop. Salan. Ha, what say'st thou? why, the end is, ne hath lost a ship. [losses! Salar. I would it might prove the end of his Salan. 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.

Salan. 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.
[judge.
Salar. That's certain; if the devil may be her
Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel!
Salan. Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it at

these years?

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. To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered me of half a million; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies; and what's the reason? I am a Jew: hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?—if we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? revenge; if a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be, by Christian example? why, revenge. The villainy you teach me, I will execute; and it shall go hard, but I will better the instruction.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house, and desires to speak with you both.

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

Salan. Here comes another of the tribe; a third cannot be matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew.

[exeunt Salan. 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 on our nation till now; I never felt it till now:-two thousand ducats in that; and other precious, precious jewels.-I would, my daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels in her ear! would she were hears'd at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin! No news of them?-Why, so:—And I know not what's spent in the search: why, thou loss upon loss! the thief gone with so much, and so much to find the Shy. There I have another bad match: a bank-thief; and no satisfaction, no revenge: nor no ill rupt, a prodigal, who dare scarce show his head luck stirring, but what lights o' my shoulders; no on the Rialto; a beggar, that used to come so sighs, but o' my breathing: no tears, but o' my smug upon the mart; let him look to his bond: shedding. 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, am I sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his flesh; what's that good for?

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 from Tripolis.

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 dost promise aught,
Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence,
And here choose I; 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 ecstasy,
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 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 pleased with this,

And hold your fortune for your bliss,

Turn you where your lady is

And claim her with a loving kiss.

| 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.

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
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence;
O, then be bold to say, Bassanio's dead.

Ner. My lord and lady, it is now our time,
That have stood by, and seen our wishes prosper,
To cry, good joy :-good joy, my lord and lady!

Gra. My lord Bassanio, and my gentle lady,
I wish you all the joy that you can wish;
For I am sure you can wish none from me:
And, when your honours mean to solemnize
The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you
Even at that time I may be married too.

Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.
Gra. I thank your lordship; you have got me one
My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours:
You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid;
You lov'd, I lov'd; for intermission
No more pertains to me, my lord, than you.
Your fortune stood upon the caskets there;
And so did mine too, as the matter falls:
For wooing here, until I sweat again;

A gentle scroll; fair lady, by your leave; [kissing her. And swearing, till my very roof was dry

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

With oaths of love; at last,-if promise last,---

I got a promise of this fair one here,

To have her love, provided that your fortune
Achiev'd her mistress.

Por. Is this true, Nerissa?

Ner. Madam, it is, so you stand pleas'd withal.
Bass. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith?
Gra. Yes, 'faith, my lord.
[marriage.

Bass. Our feast shall be much honour'd in your Gra. We'll play with them, the first boy for a thousand ducats.

Ner. What, and stake down? [stake down.
Gra. No; we shall ne'er win at that sport, and
But, who comes here? Lorenzo, and his infidel?
What, my old Venetian friend, Salerio?

Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salerio.
Bass. Lorenzo, and Salerio, welcome hither;
If, that the youth of my new interest here
Have power to bid you welcome.-By your leave
I bid my very friends and countrymen,
Sweet Portia, welcome.

Por. So do I, my lord;

They are entirely welcome.

[lord,

Lor. I thank your honour.-For my part, my
My purpose was not to have seen you here;
But meeting with Salerio by the way,
He did entreat me, past all saying nay,
To come with him along.