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And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fift,
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 sound of shallow foppery enter
My sober 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
Mistress, look out at a window for all this;
There will come a christian by,
Will be worth a Jewels' eye.
[Exit Laun. Shy. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha? Fes. His words were, farewel, mistress; nothing else.
Shy. The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder :
Snail-flow in profit, and he sleeps 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, Jesica, go in,
Perhaps, I will return immediately;
Shut the doors after you; fast bind, fast find,
A proverb never stale in thrifty mind.
[Exit. Fef. Farewel; and if my fortune be not croft, I have a father, you a daughter, loft.
Enter Gratiano, and Salanio, in masquerade. Gra. This is the penthouse, under which Lorenzo desired 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 seal 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 th' 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 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;
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 swear that I do know your tongue.
Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love.
Jes. 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..
. 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 see
The pretty follies that themselves commit;
For if they could, Gupid himself would blush
To see me thus transformed to a boy.
Lor. Descend, 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 Basanio'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 wise, if I can judge of her;
And fair the 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 conftant soul,
What, art thou come? on, gentlemen, away,
Our masking mates by this time for us stay. [Exit, with Jessica.
Anth. Who's there?
Gra. Signior Anthonio !
Anth. Fie, Gratiano, where are all the rest?
'Tis nine o'clock; our friends all stay for you:
I have sent twenty out to seek for you.
No mask to-night, the wind is come about,
Basanio presently will go aboard.
Gra. I'm glad on’t, I desire no more delight
Than to be under fail, and gone to-night.
Enter Portia with Morochius, and both their trains.
Por. No, draw aside the curtains, and discover
The sev'ral cafkets to this noble prince.
Now make your choice.
[three caskets are discovered.
Mor. The first of gold, which this inscription bears :
Who chooseth me, fall gain what many men defire.
The second silver, which this promise carries :
Who chooseth me, Mall get as much as he deserves.
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt:
W bo 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' inscriptions back
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 fhows 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 deserves.
As much as he deserves? pause there, Morochius,
And weigh thy value with an even hand:
If thou be't rated by thy estimation,
Thou doft 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 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 ftray'd no farther, but chose here?
Let's see once more this saying grávid 'in gold:
Who chooseth-me, shall gain what many men dehré.
Why, that's the lady's all the world desires her:
From the four corners of the earth they come
To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint.).
Th' Hircanian deserts 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 see fair Portia.
One of these three contains her heav’nly picture.
Is't like that lead contains her ? 'twere damnation
To think so base a thought: it were too gross
To rib her searcloth in the obscure grave.
Or shall I think, in silver she's immur'd,
Being ten times undervalu'd to try'd gold ?
O sinful 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 :
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 !
Por. There, take it, prince, and if my form lie there,
Then I am yours.
[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: