And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fife, Clamber not you up to the casements then, Nor thrust your head into the publick street, To gaze on christian fools with varnish'd faces : But stop my house's ears, I mean, my casements, Let not the found of shallow foppery enter My fober house. By Jacob's staff, I swear, I have no mind of feasting forth to-night: But I will go; go you before me, firrah: Say, I will come.
Laun. Sir, I will go before. Mistress, look out at a window for all this; There will come a christian by, Will be worth a Jewess' eye.
Shy. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha? Jes. His words were, farewel, mistress; nothing else. Shy. The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder :
Snail-flow in profit, and he fleeps 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;
Shut the doors after you; faft bind, fast find, A proverb never stale in thrifty mind.
Jes. Farewel; and if my fortune be not croft,
I have a father, you a daughter, loft.
Gra. This is the penthouse, under which Lorenzo defired us
to make a stand.
Sal. His hour is almost past.
Gra. And it is marvel he outdwells his hour,
For lovers ever run before the clock.
Sal. O, ten times faster Venus' pidgeons fly 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 sfits down? Where is the horse that doth untread again His tedious measures with th' unbated fire That he did pace them first? all things that are, Are with more fpirit chased than enjoy'd. How like a younker, or a prodigal, The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind! How like the prodigal doth she return With overweather'd ribs, and ragged fails, Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind!
Sal. 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; come, approach; Here dwells my father Jew. Hoa, who's within?
Jessica above in boy's cloths.
Jes. Who are you? tell me, for more certainty, Albeit I'll fwear that I do know your tongue. Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love.
Jef. Lorenzo, certain, and my love, indeed; For who love I fo much? and now who knows,
But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours?
Lor. Heav'n and thy thoughts are witness that thou art..
Jef. Here, catch this casket, it is worth the pains..
I'm 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 fee
The pretty follies that themselves commit; For if they could, Cupid himself would blush To fee me thus transformed to a boy.
Lor. Defcend, for you must be my torchbearer. Jes. What, must 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, Ev'n in the lovely garnish of a boy.
But come at once
For the close night doth play the runaway, And we are stay'd for at Baffanio's feast.
Jes. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself With some more ducats, and be with you straight. Gra. Now, by my hood, a gentile, and no Jew. Lor. Beshrew me, but I love her heartily,
For she is wife, 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, wife, fair, and true, Shall she be placed in my conftant foul.
What, art thou come? on, gentlemen, away;
Our masking mates by this time for us stay. (Exit, with Jessica.
Gra. Signior Anthonio!
Anth. Fie, Gratiano, where are all the rest?
'Tis nine o'clock; our friends all stay for you: I have fent twenty out to feek for you. No mask to-night, the wind is come about, Bassanio presently will go aboard.
Gra. I'm glad on't, I defire no more delight Than to be under fail, and gone to-night.
Enter Portia with Morochius, and both their trains.
O, draw afide the curtains, and discover
The sev'ral caskets to this noble prince.
[three caskets are discovered.
Mor. The first of gold, which this inscription bears :
Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men defire.
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 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 am I yours withal.
Mor. Some god direct my judgment! let me see, I will survey th' infcriptions 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 not give nor hazard ought for lead. What says the filver with her virgin hue? Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deferves. As much as he deferves? pause there, Morochius, 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 afraid of my deserving,
Were but a weak disabling of myself. As much as I deferve? - why, that's the lady: I do in birth deferve her, and in fortunes, In graces, and in qualities of breeding: But more than these, in love I do deserve. What if I ftray'd no farther, but chose here? Let's fee once more this saying grav'd in gold: Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men defire. Why, that's the lady; all the world defires her: From the four corners of the earth they come To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing faint. Th' Hircanian deferts and the vasty wilds Of wide Arabia are as thoroughfares now, For princes to come view fair Portia. The wat'ry 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 fee fair Portia.
One of these three contains her heav'nly picture. Is't like that lead contains her? 'twere damnation
To think fo base a thought: it were too gross
To rib her fearcloth in the obfcure grave. Or shall I think, in filver she's immur'd, Being ten times undervalu'd to try'd gold?
O finful 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 upon :
Lies all within. Deliver me the key;
But here an angel in a golden bed
Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may!
Por. There, take it, prince, and if my form lie there,
[unlocking the golden casket.
Mor. O hell! what have we here? a carrion death,
Within whose empty eye there is a scroll: I'll read the writing:
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