# Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/The Merchant of Venice/Act 2

Actus Secundus.
Enter Morochus a tawnie Moore all in white, and three or foure followers accordingly, with Portia, Nerrissa, and their traine. Flo. Cornets.
Mor.
Mislike me not for my complexion, The shadowed liuerie of the burnisht sunne, To whom I am a neighbour, and neere bred. Bring me the fairest creature North-ward borne, Where Phœbus fire scarce thawes the ysicles, And let vs make incision for your loue, To proue whose blood is reddest, his or mine. I tell thee Ladie this aspect of mine Hath feard the valiant, (by my loue I sweare) The best regarded Virgins of our Clyme Haue lou'd it to: I would not change this hue, Except to steale your thoughts my gentle Queene.
Por. In tearmes of choise I am not solie led By nice direction of a maidens eies: Besides, the lottrie of my destenie Bars me the right of voluntarie choosing: But if my Father had not scanted me, And hedg'd me by his wit to yeelde my selfe His wife, who wins me by that meanes I told you, Your selfe (renowned Prince) than stood as faire As any commer I haue look'd on yet For my affection.
Mor.
Euen for that I thanke you, Therefore I pray you leade me to the Caskets To trie my fortune: By this Symitare That slew the Sophie, and a Persian Prince That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, I would ore-stare the sternest eies that looke: Out-braue the heart most daring on the earth: Plucke the yong sucking Cubs from the she Beare, Yea, mocke the Lion when he rores for pray To win the Ladie. But alas, the while If Hercules and Lychas plaie at dice Which is the better man, the greater throw May turne by fortune from the weaker hand: So is Alcides beaten by his rage, And so may I, blinde fortune leading me Misse that which one vnworthier may attaine, And die with grieuing.
Port.
You must take your chance, And either not attempt to choose at all, Or sweare before you choose, if you choose wrong Neuer to speake to Ladie afterward In way of marriage, therefore be aduis'd.
Mor.
Nor will not, come bring me vnto my chance.
Por.
First forward to the temple, after dinner Your hazard shall be made.
Mor.
Good fortune then, Cornets. To make me blest or cursed'st among men. Exeunt.
Enter the Clowne alone.
Clo.
Certainely, my conscience will serue me to run from this Iew my Maister: the fiend is at mine elbow, and tempts me, saying to me, Iobbe, Launcelet Iobbe, good Launcelet, or good Iobbe, or good Launcelet Iobbe, vse your legs, take the start, run awaie: my conscience saies no; take heede honest Launcelet, take heed honest Iobbe, or as afore-said honest Launcelet Iobbe, doe not runne, scorne running with thy heeles; well, the most coragious fiend bids me packe, fia saies the fiend, away saies the fiend, for the heauens rouse vp a braue minde saies the fiend, and run; well, my conscience hanging about the necke of my heart, saies verie wisely to me: my honest friend Launcelet, being an honest mans sonne, or rather an honest womans sonne, for indeede my Father did something smack, something grow too; he had a kinde of taste; wel, my conscience saies Lancelet bouge not, bouge saies the fiend, bouge not saies my conscience, conscience say I you counsaile well, fiend say I you counsaile well, to be rul'd by my conscience I should stay with the Iew my Maister, (who God blesse the marke) is a kinde of diuell; and to run away from the Iew I should be ruled by the fiend, who sauing your reuerence is the diuell himselfe: certainely the Iew is the verie diuell incarnation, and in my conscience, my conscience is a kinde of hard conscience, to offer to counsaile me to stay with the Iew; the fiend giues the more friendly counsaile: I will runne fiend, my heeles are at your commandement, I will runne.
Enter old Gobbe with a Basket.
Gob.
Maister yong-man, you I praie you, which is the waie to Maister Iewes?
Lan.
O heauens, this is my true begotten Father, who being more then sand-blinde, high grauel blinde, knows me not, I will trie confusions with him.
Gob.
Maister yong Gentleman, I praie you which is the waie to Maister Iewes.
Laun.
Turne vpon your right hand at the next
turning, but at the next turning of all on your left; marrie at the verie next turning, turne of no hand, but turn down indirectlie to the Iewes house.
Gob.
Be Gods sonties 'twill be a hard waie to hit, can you tell me whether one Launcelet that dwels with him dwell with him or no.
Laun.
Talke you of yong Master Launcelet, marke me now, now will I raise the waters; talke you of yong Maister Launcelet?
Gob.
No Maister sir, but a poore mans sonne, his Father though I say't is an honest exceeding poore man, and God be thanked well to liue.
Lan.
Well, let his Father be what a will, wee talke of yong Maister Launcelet.
Gob.
Your worships friend and Launcelet.
Laun.
But I praie you ergo old man, ergo I beseech you, talke you of yong Maister Launcelet.
Gob.
Of Launcelet, ant please your maistership.
Lan.
Ergo Maister Lancelet, talke not of maister Lancelet Father, for the yong gentleman according to fates and destinies, and such odde sayings, the sisters three, & such branches of learning, is indeede deceased, or as you would say in plaine tearmes, gone to heauen.
Gob.
Marrie God forbid, the boy was the verie staffe of my age, my verie prop.
Lau.
Do I look like a cudgell or a houell-post, a staffe or a prop: doe you know me Father.
Gob.
Alacke the day, I know you not yong Gentleman, but I praie you tell me, is my boy God rest his soule aliue or dead.
Lan.
Doe you not know me Father.
Gob.
Alacke sir I am sand blinde, I know you not.
Lan.
Nay, indeede if you had your eies you might faile of the knowing me: it is a wise Father that knowes his owne childe. Well, old man, I will tell you newes of your son, giue me your blessing, truth will come to light, murder cannot be hid long, a mans sonne may, but in the end truth will out.
Gob.
Praie you sir stand vp, I am sure you are not Lancelet my boy.
Lan.
Praie you let's haue no more fooling about it, but giue mee your blessing: I am Lancelet your boy that was, your sonne that is, your childe that shall be.
Gob.
I cannot thinke you are my sonne.
Lan.
I know not what I shall thinke of that: but I am Lancelet the Iewes man, and I am sure Margerie your wife is my mother.
Gob.
Her name is Margerie indeede, Ile be sworne if thou be Lancelet, thou art mine owne flesh and blood: Lord worshipt might he be, what a beard hast thou got; thou hast got more haire on thy chin, then Dobbin my philhorse has on his taile.
Lan.
It should seeme then that Dobbins taile growes backeward. I am sure he had more haire of his taile then I haue of my face when I last saw him.
Gob.
Lord how art thou chang'd: how doost thou and thy Master agree, I haue brought him a present; how gree you now?
Lan.
Well, well, but for mine owne part, as I haue set vp my rest to run awaie, so I will not rest till I haue run some ground; my Maister's a verie Iew, giue him a present, giue him a halter, I am famisht in his seruice. You may tell euerie finger I haue with my ribs: Father I am glad you are come, giue me your present to one Maister Bassanio, who indeede giues rare new Liuories, if I serue not him, I will run as far as God has anie ground. O rare fortune, here comes the man, to him Father, for I am a Iew if I serue the Iew anie longer.
Enter Bassanio with a follower or two.
Bass.
You may doe so, but let it be so hasted that supper be readie at the farthest by fiue of the clocke: see these Letters deliuered, put the Liueries to making, and desire Gratiano to come anone to my lodging.
Lan.
To him Father.
Gob.
God blesse your worship.
Bass.
Gramercie, would'st thou ought with me.
Gob.
Here's my sonne sir, a poore boy.
Lan.
Not a poore boy sir, but the rich Iewes man that would sir as my Father shall specifie.
Gob.
He hath a great infection sir, as one would say to serue.
Lan.
Indeede the short and the long is, I serue the Iew, and haue a desire as my Father shall specifie.
Gob.
His Maister and he (sauing your worships reuerence) are scarce catercosins.
Lan.
To be briefe, the verie truth is, that the Iew hauing done me wrong, doth cause me as my Father being I hope an old man shall frutifie vnto you.
Gob.
I haue here a dish of Doues that I would bestow vpon your worship, and my suite is.
Lan.
In verie briefe, the suite is impertinent to my selfe, as your worship shall know by this honest old man, and though I say it, though old man, yet poore man my Father.
Bass.
One speake for both, what would you?
Lan.
Serue you sir.
Gob.
That is the verie defect of the matter sir.
Bass.
I know thee well, thou hast obtain'd thy suite, Shylocke thy Maister spoke with me this daie, And hath prefer'd thee, if it be preferment To leaue a rich Iewes seruice, to become The follower of so poore a Gentleman.
Clo.
The old prouerbe is verie well parted betweene my Maister Shylocke and you sir, you haue the grace of God sir, and he hath enough.
Bass.
Thou speak'st well; go Father with thy Son, Take leaue of thy old Maister, and enquire My lodging out, giue him a Liuerie More garded then his fellowes: see it done.
Clo.
Father in, I cannot get a seruice, no, I haue nere a tongue in my head, well: if anie man in Italie haue a fairer table which doth offer to sweare vpon a booke, I shall haue good fortune; goe too, here's a simple line of life, here's a small trifle of wiues, alas, fifteene wiues is nothing, a leuen widdowes and nine maides is a simple comming in for one man, and then to scape drowning thrice, and to be in perill of my life with the edge of a featherbed, here are simple scapes: well, if Fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this gere: Father come, Ile take my leaue of the Iew in the twinkling.
Exit Clowne.
I praie thee good Leonardo thinke on this, These things being bought and orderly bestowed Returne in haste, for I doe feast to night My best esteemd acquaintance, hie thee goe.
Leon.
My best endeuors shall be done herein. Exit.Le.
Enter Gratiano.
Where's your Maister.
Leon.
Yonder sir he walkes.
Gra.
Signior Bassanio.
Bas.
Gratiano.
Gra.
I haue a sute to you.
Bass.
You haue obtain'd it.
Gra.
You must not denie me, I must goe with you to Belmont.
Bass.
Why then you must: but heare thee Gratiano, Thou art to wilde, to rude, and bold of voyce, Parts that become thee happily enough, And in such eyes as ours appeare not faults; But where they are not knowne, why there they show Something too liberall, pray thee take paine To allay with some cold drops of modestie Thy skipping spirit, least through thy wilde behauiour I be misconsterd in the place I goe to, And loose my hopes.
Gra.
Signor Bassanio, heare me, If I doe not put on a sober habite, Talke with respect, and sweare but now and than, Weare prayer bookes in my pocket, looke demurely, Nay more, while grace is saying hood mine eyes Thus with my hat, and sigh and say Amen: Vse all the obseruance of ciuillitie Like one well studied in a sad ostent To please his Grandam, neuer trust me more.
Bas.
Well, we shall see your bearing.
Gra.
Nay but I barre to night, you shall not gage me By what we doe to night.
Bas.
No that were pittie, I would intreate you rather to put on Your boldest suite of mirth, for we haue friends That purpose merriment: but far you well, I haue some businesse.
Gra.
And I must to Lorenso and the rest, But we will visite you at supper time. Exeunt.
Enter Iessica and the Clowne.
Ies.
I am sorry thou wilt leaue my Father so, Our house is hell, and thou a merrie diuell Did'st rob it of some taste of tediousnesse; But far thee well, there is a ducat for thee, And Lancelet, soone at supper shalt thou see Lorenzo, who is thy new Maisters guest, Giue him this Letter, doe it secretly, And so farewell: I would not haue my Father see me talke with thee.
Clo.
Adue, teares exhibit my tongue, most beautifull Pagan, most sweete Iew, if a Christian doe not play the knaue and get thee, I am much deceiued; but adue, these foolish drops doe somewhat drowne my manly spirit: adue. Exit.
Ies.
Farewell good Lancelet. Alacke, what hainous sinne is it in me To be ashamed to be my Fathers childe, But though I am a daughter to his blood, I am not to his manners: O Lorenzo, If thou keepe promise I shall end this strife, Become a Christian, and thy louing wife. Exit.
Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio.
Lor.
Nay, we will slinke away in supper time, Disguise vs at my lodging, and returne all in an houre.
Gra.
We haue not made good preparation.
Sal.
We haue not spoke vs yet of Torch-bearers.
Sol. 'Tis vile vnlesse it may be quaintly ordered, And better in my minde not vndertooke.
Lor.
'Tis now but foure of clock, we haue two houres To furnish vs; friend Lancelet what's the newes.
Enter Lancelet with a Letter.
Lan.
And it shall please you to breake vp this, shall it seeme to signifie.
Lor.
I know the hand, in faith 'tis a faire hand And whiter then the paper it writ on, Is the faire hand that writ.
Gra.
Loue newes in faith.
Lan.
By your leaue sir.
Lor.
Whither goest thou?
Lan.
Marry sir to bid my old Master the Iew to sup to night with my new Master the Christian.
Lor.
Hold here, take this, tell gentle Iessica I will not faile her, speake it priuately: Go Gentlemen, will you prepare you for this Maske to night, I am prouided of a Torch-bearer. Exit. Clowne.
Sal.
I marry, ile be gone about it strait.
Sol.
And so will I.
Lor.
Meete me and Gratiano at Gratianos lodging Some houre hence.
Sal.
'Tis good we do so. Exit.
Gra.
Was not that Letter from faire Iessica?
Lor.
I must needes tell thee all, she hath directed How I shall take her from her Fathers house, What gold and iewels she is furnisht with, What Pages suite she hath in readinesse: If ere the Iew her Father come to heauen, It will be for his gentle daughters sake; And neuer dare misfortune crosse her foote, Vnlesse she doe it vnder this excuse, That she is issue to a faithlesse Iew: Come goe with me, pervse this as thou goest, Faire Iessica shall be my Torch-bearer. Exit.
Enter Iew, and his man that was the Clowne.
Iew.
Well, thou shall see, thy eyes shall be thy iudge, The difference of old Shylocke and Bassanio; What Iessica, thou shalt not gurmandize As thou hast done with me: what Iessica? And sleepe, and snore, and rend apparrell out. Why Iessica I say.
Clo.
Why Iessica.
Shy.
Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call.
Clo.
Your worship was wont to tell me I could doe nothing without bidding.
Enter Iessica.
Ies.
Call you? what is your will? Shy. I am bid forth to supper Iessica, There are my Keyes: but wherefore should I go? I am not bid for loue, they flatter me, But yet Ile goe in hate, to feede vpon The prodigall Christian. Iessica my girle, Looke to my house, I am right loath to goe, There is some ill a bruing towards my rest, For I did dreame of money bags to night.
Clo.
I beseech you sir goe, my yong Master Doth expect your reproach.
Shy.
So doe I his.
Clo.
And they haue conspired together, I will not say you shall see a Maske, but if you doe, then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a bleeding on blacke monday
last, at six a clocke ith morning, falling out that yeere on ashwensday was foure yeere in th' afternoone.
Shy.
What are their maskes? heare you me Iessica, Lock vp my doores, and when you heare the drum And the vile squealing of the wry-neckt Fife, Clamber not you vp to the casements then, Nor thrust your head into the publique streete To gaze on Christian fooles with varnisht faces: But stop my houses eares, I meane my casements, Let not the sound of shallow fopperie enter My sober house. By Iacobs staffe I sweare, I haue no minde of feasting forth to night: But I will goe: goe you before me sirra, Say I will come.
Clo.
I will goe before sir, Mistris looke out at window for all this; There will come a Christian by, Will be worth a Iewes eye.
Shy.
What saies that foole of Hagars off-spring? ha.
Ies.
His words were farewell mistris, nothing else.
Shy.
The patch is kinde enough, but a huge feeder: Snaile-slow in profit, but he sleepes by day More then the wilde-cat: drones hiue not with me, Therefore I part with him, and part with him To one that I would haue him helpe to waste His borrowed purse. Well Iessica goe in, Perhaps I will returne immediately; Doe as I bid you, shut dores after you, fast binde, fast finde, A prouerbe neuer stale in thriftie minde. Exit.
Ies.
Farewell, and if my fortune be not crost, I haue a Father, you a daughter lost. Exit.
Enter the Maskers, Gratiano and Salino.
Gra.
This is the penthouse vnder which Lorenzo Desired vs to make a stand.
Sal.
His houre is almost past.
Gra.
And it is meruaile he out-dwels his houre, For louers euer run before the clocke.
Sal.
O ten times faster Venus Pidgions flye To steale loues bonds new made, then they are wont To keepe obliged faith vnforfaited.
Gra.
That euer holds, who riseth from a feast With that keene appetite that he sits downe? Where is the horse that doth vntread againe His tedious measures with the vnbated fire, That he did pace them first: all things that are, Are with more spirit chased then enioy'd. How like a yonger or a prodigall The skarfed barke puts from her natiue bay, Hudg'd and embraced by the strumpet winde: How like a prodigall doth she returne With ouer-wither'd ribs and ragged sailes, Leane, rent, and begger'd by the strumpet winde?
Enter Lorenzo.
Salino.
Heere comes Lorenzo, more of this hereafter.
Lor.
Sweete friends, your patience for my long abode, Not I, but my affaires haue made you wait; When you shall please to play the theeues for wiues Ile watch as long for you then: approach Here dwels my father Iew. Hoa, who's within?
Iessica aboue.
Iess.
Who are you? tell me for more certainty, Albeit Ile sweare that I do know your tongue.
Lor.
Lorenzo, and thy Loue.
Ies.
Lorenzo certaine, and my loue indeed, For who loue I so much? and now who knowes But you Lorenzo, whether I am yours?
Lor.
Heauen and thy thoughts are witness that thou art.
Ies.
Heere, catch this casket, it is worth the paines, I am glad 'tis night, you do not looke on me, For I am much asham'd of my exchange: But loue is blinde, and louers cannot see The pretty follies that themselues commit, For if they could, Cupid himselfe would blush To see me thus transformed to a boy.
Lor.
Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer.
Ies.
What, must I hold a Candle to my shames? They in themselues goodsooth are too too light. Why, 'tis an office of discouery Loue, And I should be obscur'd.
Lor.
So you are sweet, Euen in the louely garnish of a boy: but come at once, For the close night doth play the run-away, And we are staid for at Bassanio's feast.
Ies.
I will make fast the doores and guild my selfe With some more ducats, and be with you straight.
Gra.
Now by my hood, a gentle, and no Iew.
Lor.
Beshrew me but I loue her heartily. For she is wise, if I can iudge of her. And faire she is, if that mine eyes be true, And true she is, as she hath prou'd her selfe: And therefore like her selfe, wise, faire, and true, Shall she be placed in my constant soule.
Enter Iessica.
What, art thou come? on gentlemen, away, Our masking mates by this time for vs stay. Exit.
Enter Anthonio.
Ant.
Who's there?
Gra.
Signior Anthonio?
Ant.
Fie, fie, Gratiano, where are all the rest? 'Tis nine a clocke, our friends all stay for you, No maske to night, the winde is come about, Bassanio presently will goe aboord, I haue sent twenty out to seeke for you.
Gra.
I am glad on't, I desire no more delight Then to be vnder saile, and gone to night. Exeunt.
Enter Portia with Morrocho, and both their traines.
Por.
Goe, draw aside the curtaines, and discouer The seuerall Caskets to this noble Prince: Now make your choyse.
Mor.
The first of gold, who this inscription beares, Who chooseth me, shall gaine what men desire. The second siluer, which this promise carries, Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserues. This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt, Who chooseth me, must giue and hazard all he hath. How shall I know if I doe choose the right?
How shall I know if I doe choose the right.
Por.
The one of them containes my picture Prince, If you choose that, then I am yours withall.
Mor.
Some God direct my iudgement, let me see, I will suruay the inscriptions, backe againe: What saies this leaden casket? Who chooseth me, must giue and hazard all he hath. Must giue, for what? for lead, hazard for lead? This casket threatens men that hazard all Doe it in hope of faire aduantages: A golden minde stoopes not to showes of drosse, Ile then nor giue nor hazard ought for lead. What saies the Siluer with her virgin hue? Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserues. As much as he deserues; pause there Morocho, And weigh thy value with an euen hand, If thou beest rated by thy estimation Thou doost deserue enough, and yet enough May not extend so farre as to the Ladie: And yet to be afeard of my deseruing, Were but a weake disabling of my selfe. As much as I deserue, why that's the Lady. I doe in birth deserue her, and in fortunes, In graces, and in qualities of breeding: But more then these, in loue I doe deserue. What if I strai'd no farther, but chose here? Let's see once more this saying grau'd in gold. Who chooseth me shall gaine what many men desire: Why that's the Lady, all the world desires her: From the foure corners of the earth they come To kisse this shrine, this mortall breathing Saint. The Hircanion deserts, and the vaste wildes Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now For Princes to come view faire Portia. The waterie Kingdome, whose ambitious head Spets in the face of heauen, is no barre To stop the forraine spirits, but they come As ore a brooke to see faire Portia. One of these three containes her heauenly picture. Is't like that Lead containes her? 'twere damnation To thinke so base a thought, it were too grose To rib her searecloath in the obscure graue: Or shall I thinke in Siluer she's immur'd Being ten times vndervalued to tride gold; O sinfull thought, neuer so rich a Iem Was set in worse then gold! They haue in England A coyne that beares the figure of an Angell Stampt in gold, but that's insculpt vpon: But here an Angell in a golden bed Lies all within. Deliuer me the key: Here doe I choose, and thriue I as I may.
Por.
There take it Prince, and if my forme lye there Then I am yours.
Mor.
O hell! what haue we here, a carrion death, Within whose emptie eye there is a written scroule; Ile reade the writing.
All that glisters is not gold, Often haue you heard that told; Many a man his life hath sold But my outside to behold; Guilded timber doe wormes infold: Had you beene as wise as bold, Yong in limbs, in iudgement old, Your answere had not beene inscrold, Fareyouwell, your suite is cold,
Mor.
Cold indeede, and labour lost, Then farewell heate, and welcome frost: Portia adew, I haue too grieu'd a heart To take a tedious leaue: thus loosers part. Exit.
Por. A gentle riddance: draw the curtaines, go: Let all of his complexion choose me so. Exeunt.
Enter Salarino and Solanio. Flo. Cornets.
Sal.
Why man I saw Bassanio vnder sayle; With him is Gratiano gone along; And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not.
Sol.
The villaine Iew with outcries raisd the Duke. Who went with him to search Bassanios ship.
Sal.
He comes too late, the ship was vndersaile; But there the Duke was giuen to vnderstand That in a Gondilo were seene together Lorenzo and his amorous Iessica. Besides, Anthonio certified the Duke They were not with Bassanio in his ship.
Sol.
I neuer heard a passion so confusd, So strange, outragious, and so variable, As the dogge Iew did vtter in the streets; My daughter, O my ducats, O my daughter, Fled with a Christian, O my Christian ducats! Iustice, the law, my ducats, and my daughter; A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats, Of double ducats, stolne from me by my daughter, And iewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones, Stolne by my daughter: iustice, finde the girle, She hath the stones vpon her, and the ducats.
Sal.
Why all the boyes in Venice follow him, Crying his stones, his daughter, and his ducats.
Sol.
Let good Anthonio looke he keepe his day Or he shall pay for this.
Sal.
Marry well remembred, I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday, Who told me, in the narrow seas that part The French and English, there miscaried A vessell of our countrey richly fraught: I thought vpon Anthonio when he told me, And wisht in silence that it were not his.
Sol.
You were best to tell Anthonio what you heare. Yet doe not suddainely, for it may grieue him.
Sal.
A kinder Gentleman treads not the earth, I saw Bassanio and Anthonio part, Bassanio told him he would make some speede Of his returne: he answered, doe not so, Slubber not businesse for my sake Bassanio, But stay the very riping of the time, And for the Iewes bond which he hath of me, Let it not enter in your minde of loue: Be merry, and imploy your chiefest thoughts To courtship, and such faire ostents of loue As shall conueniently become you there; And euen there his eye being big with teares, Turning his face, he put his hand behinde him, And with affection wondrous sencible He wrung Bassanios hand, and so they parted.
Sol.
I thinke he onely loues the world for him, I pray thee let vs goe and finde him out And quicken his embraced heauinesse With some delight or other.
Sal.
Doe we so. Exeunt.
Enter Nerrissa and a Seruiture.
Ner.
Quick, quick I pray thee, draw the curtain strait,
The Prince of Arragon hath tane his oath, And comes to his election presently.
Enter Arragon, his traine, and Portia. Flor. Cornets.
Behold, there stand the caskets noble Prince, If you choose that wherein I am contain'd, Straight shall our nuptiall rights be solemniz'd: But if thou faile, without more speech my Lord, You must be gone from hence immediately.
Ar.
I am enioynd by oath to obserue three things; First, neuer to vnfold to any one Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I faile Of the right casket, neuer in my life To wooe a maide in way of marriage: Lastly, if I doe faile in fortune of my choyse, Immediately to leaue you, and be gone.
Por.
To these iniunctions euery one doth sweare That comes to hazard for my worthlesse selfe.
Ar.
And so haue I addrest me, fortune now To my hearts hope: gold, siluer, and base lead. Who chooseth me must giue and hazard all he hath. You shall looke fairer ere I giue or hazard. What saies the golden chest, ha, let me see. Who chooseth me, shall gaine what many men desire: What many men desire, that many may be meant By the foole multitude that choose by show, Not learning more then the fond eye doth teach, Which pries not to th' interior, but like the Martlet Builds in the weather on the outward wall, Euen in the force and rode of casualtie. I will not choose what many men desire, Because I will not iumpe with common spirits, And ranke me with the barbarous multitudes. Why then to thee thou Siluer treasure house, Tell me once more, what title thou doost beare; Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserues: And well said too; for who shall goe about To cosen Fortune, and be honourable Without the stampe of merrit, let none presume To weare an vndeserued dignitie: O that estates, degrees, and offices, Were not deriu'd corruptly, and that cleare honour Were purchast by the merrit of the wearer; How many then should couer that stand bare? How many be commanded that command? How much low pleasantry would then be gleaned From the true seede of honor? And how much honor Pickt from the chaffe and ruine of the times, To be new varnisht: Well, but to my choise. Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserues. I will assume desert; giue me a key for this, And instantly vnlocke my fortunes here.
Por.
Too long a pause for that which you finde there.
Ar.
What's here, the portrait of a blinking idiot Presenting me a scedule, I will reade it: How much vnlike art thou to Portia? How much vnlike my hopes and my deseruings? Who chooseth me, shall haue as much as he deserues. Did I deserue no more then a fooles head, Is that my prize, are my deserts no better?
Por.
To offend and iudge are distinct offices, And of opposed natures.
Ar.
What is here?
The fier seauen times tried this, Seauen times tried that iudgement is, That did neuer choose amis, Some there be that shadowes kisse, Such haue but a shadowes blisse: There be fooles aliue Iwis Siluer'd o're, and so was this: Take what wife you will to bed, I will euer be your head: So be gone, you are sped.
Ar.
Still more foole I shall appeare By the time I linger here, With one fooles head I came to woo, But I goe away with two. Sweet adue, Ile keepe my oath, Patiently to beare my wroath.
Por.
Thus hath the candle sing'd the moath: O these deliberate fooles when they doe choose, They haue the wisdome by their wit to loose.
Ner.
The ancient saying is no heresie, Hanging and wiuing goes by destinie.
Por.
Come draw the curtaine Nerrissa.
Enter Messenger.
Where is my Lady?
Por.
Here, what would my Lord?
Mes.
Madam, there is a-lighted at your gate A yong Venetian, one that comes before To signifie th' approaching of his Lord, From whom he bringeth sensible regreets; To wit (besides commends and curteous breath) Gifts of rich value; yet I haue not seene So likely an Embassador of loue. A day in Aprill neuer came so sweete To show how costly Sommer was at hand, As this fore-spurrer comes before his Lord.
Por.
No more I pray thee, I am halfe a-feard Thou wilt say anone he is some kin to thee, Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him: Come, come Nerryssa, for I long to see Quicke Cupids Post, that comes so mannerly.
Ner.
Bassanio Lord, loue if thy will it be. Exeunt.