His borrow'd purse. Well, Jessica, go in; Perhaps, I will return immediately; Do, as I bid you. Shut the doors after you; fast bind, fast find; [Exit. I have a father, you a daughter, loft. [Exit. Jes. Farewel; and if my fortune be not croft, SCENE, the STREET. Enter Gratiano and Salanio in masquerade. Gra. This is the pent-house, under which Lorenzo defired us to make a stand. Sal. His hour is almost past. Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, For lovers ever run before the clock. Sal. O, ten times faster Venus' pidgeons fly (7) Gra. That ever holds. Who riseth from a feaft, (7) 0, ten times faster Venus' Pidgeons fly.] This is a very odd Image, of Venus's Pidgeons flying to seal the Bonds of Love. The Senfe is obvious, and We know the Dignity due to Venus's Pidgeons. There was certainly a Joke intended here, which the Ignorance, or Boldness, of the first Transcribers have murder'd: I doubt not, but Shakespeare wrote the Line thus : O, ten times faster Venus' Widgeons fly To feal &c. For Widgeon is not only the filly Bird so call'd, but fignifies likewise, metaphorically, a filly Fellow, as Goose, or Gudgeon, does now. Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind! Enter Lorenzo. 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; Jessica above, in boy's cloaths. Jes. Who are you? tell me for more certainty, Jef. Lorenzo certain, and my love, indeed; 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; Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. Lor. So are you, sweet, Ev'n in the lovely garnish of a boy. For the close night doth play the run-away, With fome more ducats, and be with you strait. [Exit from above. Gra. Now by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew. For she is wife, if I can judge of her; Enter Jessica, to them. What, art thou come? on, gentlemen, away; Enter Anthonio. Anth. Who's there? Gra. Signior Anthonio, Anth. Fie, Gratiano, where are all the rest? SCENE changes to Belmont. : [Exeunt. Enter Portia with Morochius, and both their trains. Por. G O, draw aside the curtains, and discover The sev'ral caskets to this noble Prince. Now make your choice. [Three caskets are discover'd. Mor. The first of gold, which this inscription bears, Who chuseth me, shall gain what many men defire. The second silver, which this promise carries, Who chuseth me, shall get as much as he deserves. This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt, Who chuseth me, must give and hazard all he hath. How shall I know, if I do chuse the right? Por. The one of them contains my picture, Prince; If you chuse that, then I am yours withal, Mor Mor. Some God direct my judgment! let me fee, I will furvey th' inscriptions back again; What says this leaden casket? Who chuseth 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, aught for lead. What says the silver, with her virgin hue? Who chuseth 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'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 my self. 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 thefe, in love I do deserve. What if I stray'd no farther, but chose here ? Let's fee once more this saying grav'd in gold. Who chuseth 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 saint. 'Th' Hyrcanian deserts, and the vastie wilds Of wide Arabia, are as thorough-fares 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. Being ten times undervalu'd to try'd gold? But here an angel in a golden bed Here do I chuse, and thrive I as I may! Por. There take it, Prince, and if my form lye there, Then I am yours. [Unlocking the gold casket. Mor. O hell! what have we here? a carrion death, Within whose empty eye there is a scrowl: I'll read the writing. All that glifters is not gold, Often have you heard that told; Mor. Cold, indeed, and labour loft : Por. A gentle riddance: draw the curtains; go Let all of his complexion chuse me fo. SCENE changes to Venice. Enter Solarino and Salanio. : [Exit. [Exeunt. HY, man, I faw Bassanio under fail; Sal. With With him is Gratiano gone along; And in their ship, I'm fure, Lorenzo is not. Sola. The villain Jew with outcries rais'd the Duke, Who went with him to fearch Bassanio's ship. Sal. |