I'll end my exhortation after dinner.

Lor. We'll, we will leave you then'till dinner-time. I must be one of these fame dumb' wife men;

For Gratiano never lets me fpeak.

Gra. Well, keep me company but two years more, Thou shalt not know the found of thine own tongue. Anth. Farewel; I'll grow a talker for this jeer. Gra. Thanks, i'faith; for filence is only commendable. In a neat's tongue dry'd, and a maid not vendible. [Exeunt Gra. and Loren.

Anth. Is that any thing now?

Baff. Gratiano fpeaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice : his reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you shall feek all day ere you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the fearch.

Anth. Well; tell me now, what lady is the fame,
To whom you fwore a fecret pilgrimage,
That you to-day promis'd to tell me of?

Ba. Tis not unknown to you, Anthonio,
How much I have disabled mine eftate,
By fhewing fomething a more fwelling port
Than my faint meats would grant continuance;
Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd
From fuch a noble rate; but my chief care
Is to come fairly off from the great debts,
Wherein my time, fomething too prodigal,
Hath left me gaged: to you, Anthonio,
I owe the most in money, and in love;
And from your love I have a warrantry
T' unburden all my plots and purposes,
How to get clear of all the debts I owe.

Anth. I pray you, good Bafanio, let me know it; And if it ftand, as you yourfelf ftill do,

Within the eye of honour; be affur'd,

My purfe, my perion, my extreamest means
Lye all unlock'd to your occafions.

Baf. In my fchool days, when I had loft one fhaft

I fhot his fellow of the felf fame flight.
The felf-fame way, with more advifed watch,
To find the other forth; by ventring both,

I oft found both. I urge this childhood proof,

Because

Because what follows is pure innocence.
I owe you much, and, like a wilful youth,
That which I owe is loft; but if you please
To shoot another arrow that felf way
Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt
As I will watch the aim, or to find both
Or bring your latter hazard back again,
And thankfully reft debtor for the firft.

Anth. You know me well; and herein fpend but time, To wind about my love with circumstance; And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong,

In making queftion of my uttermoft,

Than if you had made wafte of all I have.
Then do but fay to me, what I should do,
That in your knowledge may be done,
And I am preft unto it: therefore, speak.
Baff. In Belmont is a lady richly left,
And the is fair, and, fairer than that word,
Of wond'rous virtues; fometime, from her eyes
I did receive fair speechlefs meffages †
Her name is Portia, nothing undervalu'd
To Cato's daughter, Brutus, Portia :
Nor is the wide world ign'rant of her worth ;
For the four winds blow in from every coast
Renowned fuitors, and her funny locks ›
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece;
Which makes her feat of Belmont, Colchus' ftrand;
And many fafons come in queft of her.
O my Anthonio, had I but the means
To hold a rival place with one of them,
I have a mind prefages me fuch thrift,
That I fhould questionless be fortunate.

Anth. Thou know'ft, that all my fortunes are at sea, Nor have I money, nor commodity

To raise a prefent fum; therefore, go forth;
Try what my credit can in Venice do,
That fhall be rack'd even to the uttermoft,
To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia :
Go prefently enquire, and fo will I,
Where money is; and I no question make,
To have it of my truk, or for my fake.

[Exeunt. SCENE

SCENE changes to BEL MONT.

Three Caskets are fet out, one of gold, another of filver, and another of lead.

Per.

Enter Portia and Neriffa.

BY my troth, Nerissa, my little body is weary of

this great world.

Ner. Fou would be, fweet madam, if your miseries were in the fame abundance as your good fortunes are ; and yet, for aught I fee, they are as fick, that furfeit with. too much, as they that ftarve with nothing; therefore it is no mean happinefs to be feated in the mean; fuperfluity comes fooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer.

Por. Good fentences, and well pronounc'd.

Ner. They would be better, if well follow'd.

Par. If to do, were as cafy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches; and poor mens cottages, princes' palaces. He is a good divine that follows his own Inftructions; I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than to be one of the twenty to follow my own teaching. The brain may devife laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree; fuch a hare is madness the youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the cripple! But this reafoning is not in fashion to chufe me a husband: O me, the word chufe! I may neither chufe whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike; fo is the will of a living daughter curb'd by the will of a dead father: is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot chuse one, nor refuse none ?

Ner. Your father was ever virtuous, and holy men at their death have good infpirations: therefore, the lottery, that he hath devised in these three chefts of gold, filver, and lead, (whereof who chufes his meaning chufes you) will no doubt never to be chosen by any rightly, but one whom you shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these princely fuitors that are already come?

Por. I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou nam'st them, I will defcribe them; and according to my de fcription, level at my affection.

Ner.

Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince.

Por. Ay, that's a dolt, indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horfe; and he makes it a great appropriation to his own good parts, that he can fhew himfelf; I am much afraid, my lady, his mother, play'd falfe with a fmith.

Ner. Then, there is the count Palatine.

Por. He doth nothing but frown, as who should say, if you will not have me, chufe: he hears merry tales, and fmiles not; I fear he will prove the weeping philofopher when he grows old, being fo full of unmannerly fadness in his youth. I had rather be married to a death's head with a bone in his mouth, than to either of thefe, God defend me from these two!

Ner. How fay you by the French lord, monfieur Le Boun?

Por. God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man; in truth, I know, it is a fin to be a mocker; but, he! why, he hath a horfe better than the Neapolitan's; a better bad habit of frowning than the count Palatine; he is every man in no man; if a throftle fing, he falls traight a capering; he will fence with his own fhadow; if i fhould marry him, I should marry twenty hufbands. If he would defpife me, I would forgive him; for if he loves me to madness, I shall never requite him,

Ner. What fay you then to Faulconbridge, the young baron of England?

Por, You know, I fay nothing to him, for he underftands not me, nor I him; he hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian; and you may come into the court and fwear, that I have a poor pennyworth in the Englib. He is a proper man's picture, but alas! who can converfe with a dumb fhow? how odly he is fuited! I think, he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hofe in France, his bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour every where,

Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour?

Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him; for he borrow'd a box of the ear of the Englishman, and fwore he would pay him again, when he was able.

I think

I think, the Frenchman became his furety, and fealed under for another.

Ner. How like you the young German, the duke of Saxony's nephew?

Por. Very vilely in the morning when he is fober, and moft vilely in the afternoon when he is drunk; when he is beft, he is a little worse than a man; and when he is wort, he little better than a beast; and the worst fall that ever fell, I hope, I shall make shift to go without him.

Ner. If he fhould offer to chufe, and chufe the right cafket, you should refuse to perform your farther's will, if you should refufe to accept him.

Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, fet a deep glass of Rhenifh wine on the contrary casket; for if the devil be within, and that temptation without, I know he will chufe it. I will do any thing, Neriffa, ere I will be marry'd to a ípunge.

Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of thefe lords; they have acquainted me with their determinations, which is, indeed, to return to their home, and to trouble you with no more fuit; unless you may be won by fome other fort than your father's impofition, depending on the cafkets.

Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as chafte as Diana, unless I be obtain'd by the manor of my farther's will: I am glad, this parcel of wooers are so reasonable; for there is not one among them but I doat on his very abfence, and with them a fair departure.

Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's. time, a Venetian, a scholar and a foldier, that came hither in company of the marquis of Mountferrat.

Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio, as I think he was fo call'd.

Ner. True, madam; he, of all the men that ever my

foolish eyes look'd upon, was the best deserving a fair

lady.

Por. I remember him well, and I remember him worthy of thy praife? How now? what news?

Enter a Servant.

Ser. The four ftrangers feek for you, madam, to take

their