As ftairs of fand, wear yet upon their chins,
The beard of Hercules and frowning Mars;
Who inward fearcht, have livers white as milk?*
Then, 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 meager lead,
Which rather threateneft, than doft promise aught,
Thy plainnefs moves me more than eloquence;
And here chufe I: joy be the confequence !
Por. O love, be moderate, allay thy extafy;
In measure rain thy joy, fcant this excess,
I feel too much thy bleffing, make it lefs,
For fear I furfeit.
[Opening the leaden cafket.
Baff. What find I here ?
Fair Portia's counterfeit! what demi-god
Hath come fo near creation? move these eyes?
Or whether riding on the balls of mine,
Seem they in motion? here are fever'd lips
Parted with fugar breath; fo fweet a bar
Should funder fuch fweet friends: but her eyes-
How could he fee to do them? having made one,
Methinks, it should have power to steal both his,
And leave itfelf unfinifh'd. Here's the fcrowl,
The continent and fummary of my
fortune.
You that chufe not by the view,
Chance as fair, and chufe as true :
Since this fortune falls to you,
Be content, and feek no new.
* These lines we think worthy preservation, as being poetically argumentative.
And you fhall fee 'tis purchas'd by the weight,
Which therein works a miracle in nature.
Making them lighteft, that wear moft of it.
So are thofe crifpy fnaky golden locks,
Which make fuch wanton gambols with the wind,
Upon fuppofed fairnefs, often known
To be the dowry of a fecond head:
The skull that bred them in the fepulchre.
Thus ornament is but the gilded thore,
To a most dang'rous fea; the beauteous scarf,
Meiling an Indian beauty.
If you be well pleas'd with this,
And hold your fortune for your blifs,
Turn you where your lady is,
And claim her with a loving kiss..
A gentle fcrowl; fair lady, by your leave;
I come by note to give, and to receive.
As doubtful whether what I fee be true,
Until confirm'd, fign'd, ratify'd, by you.
Por. You fee me, lord Baffanio, where I ftand,
Such as I am; tho' for myself alone,
I would not be ambitious in my with,
To wish myself much better; yet for you,
I would be trebled twenty times myfelf,
A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times
More rich; that to ftand high in your account,
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,
Exceed account; but the full fum of me
Is an unleffon'd girl, unfchool'd, unpractis'd:
Happy in this; he is not yet fo old
But he may learn; more happy then in this,
She is not bred fo dull but the can learn ;
Happiest of all, is, that her gentle fpirit
Commits itself to yours to be directed,
As from her lord, her governor, her king.
Myfelf, and what is mine, to you and yours,
Is now converted. But now I was the lord
Of this fair manfion, mafter of my fervants,
Queen o'er myfelf; and even now, but now,
This house, these fervants, and this fame myself,
Are yours, my lord: I give them with this ring,
Which, when you part from, lose, or give away,
Let it prefage the ruin of your love,
And be my 'vantage to exclaim on you.
Baff. Madam, you have bereft me of all words;
But when this ring
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence;
O, then be bold to fay Bassanio's dead. ́
Ner. My lord and lady, it is now our time,
That have food by, and feen your wishes profper,
To cry, great joy, good joy, my lord and lady!
Gra. My lord Baffanio, and my gentle lady,
I wish you all the joy that you can wish;
For, I am fure, you can wifh none from me;
And when your honours mean to folemnize
The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you,
Ev'n at that time, I may be married, too.
Baff. With all my heart, fo thou canst get a wife.
Gra. I thank your lordship, you have got me one.
My eyes, my lord, can look as fwift as yours;'
You faw the mistress, I beheld the maid;
You lov'd; I lov'd; for intermiffion
No more pertains to me, my lord, than you.
Your fortune ftood upon the casket there;
And fo did mine too, as the matter falls:
For wooing here, until I fweat again,
And fwearing, till my very roof was dry,
With oaths of love; at laft, if promise last,
I got a promise of this fair one here,
To have her love, provided that your fortune
Atchiev'd her mistress.
Por. Is this true, Nerissa?
Ner. Madam, it is, fo you ftand pleas'd withal.
Baff. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith?
Gra. Yes, faith, my lord.
Baff: Our feaft shall be much honour'd in your marriage.
Gra. We'll play with them, the first boy, for a thousand ducats.
Ner. What, and stake down?
Gra. No, we shall ne'er win at that sport, and stake But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel? What, and my old Venetian friend, Salanio?
Enter LORENZO, JESSICA, and SALANIO. Baff. Lorenzo and Salanio, welcome hither; If that the youth of my new interest here, Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave, I bid my friends and countrymen,
Por. So do I, my lord; they are entirely welcome. Lor. I thank your honour; for my part, my lord, My purpose was not to have feen you here;
But meeting with Salanie by the way,
He did intreat me, paft all saying nay,
To come with him along.
Sal. I did, my lord.
And I have reason for't; Signior Anthonio
Commends him to you.
Baf. Ere I ope his letter,
I pray you tell me how my
Sal. Not fick, my lord,
Nor well, unless in mind;
Will fhew you his estate.
[Gives Baffanio a Letter.
good friend doth.
unless it be in mind;
his letter there
[Baffanio opens the Letter.
Gra. Neriffa, cheer yon ftranger: bid her welcome. Your hand, Salanio; what's the news from Venice? How doth that royal merchant, good Anthonio? I know he will be glad of our fuccefs;
We are the Fafons, we have won the fleece.
Sal. Would you had won the fleece that he hath loft! Por. There are fome fhrewd contents in yon fame That feal the colour from Baffanio's cheek: [paper, Some dear friend dead; elfe nothing in the world, Could turn fo much the conftitution
Of any constant man. What, worse and worse !
With leave, Bassanio, I am half yourself,
And I must have the half of any thing,
That this fame paper brings you.
Baff. O fweet Portia!
Here are a few of the unpleasant'ft words,
That ever blotted paper. Gentle lady,
When I did firft impart my love to you,
I freely told you all the wealth I had
Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman;
And then I told you true; and yet, dear lady,
Rating myself at nothing, you fhall fee
How much I was a braggart: when I told you,
My fate was nothing, I should then have told you,
That I was worse than nothing. For, indeed,
I have engag'd myself to a dear friend,
Engag'd my friend to his mere enemy,
To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady,
The paper as the body of my friend
And every word in it a gaping wound,
* The change from joy to concern, on perusal of Anthonio's
letter, is natural and well contrived.
Iffuing life-blood. But is it true, Salanio?
Have all his ventures fail'd? what! not one hit?
From Tripolis, from Mexico, from England,
From Lisbon, Mexico, and India?
And not one veffel 'fcap'd the dreadful touch,
Of merchant-marring rocks
Sal. Not one, my lord.
Befides, it should appear, that if he had
The prefent money to discharge the Jew,
He would not take it. Never did I know.
A creature that did bear the shape of man,
So keen and greedy to confound a man.
He plies the duke at morning and at night,
And doth impeach the freedom of the ftate,
If they deny him juftice. Twenty merchants,
The duke himself, and the magnificoes
Of greatest port, have all perfuaded with him;
But none can drive him from the envious plea,
Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond.
Jef. When I was with him I have heard him swear, To Tubal and to Chus, his country-men, That he would rather have Anthonio's flesh Than twenty times the value of the fum, That he did owe him. And I know my lord; If law, authority, and pow'r deny not,
It will go hard with poor Anthoniq.
Por. Is it your dear friend, that is thus in trouble? Bal. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, And one, in whom
The ancient Roman honour more appears,
Than any that draws breath in Italy.
Por. What fum owes he the Jew?
Baff. For me, three thousand ducats.
Por. What, no more?
Pay him fix thoufand, and deface the bond;
Double fix thoufand, and then treble that,
Before a friend of this defcription,
Shall lofe a hair, thro' my Bassanio's fault. *
First, go with me to church, and call me wife,
And then away to Venice, to your friend :
*There is a very amiable degree of delicate generofity, in this fpeech of Portia.
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