001 Por. I pray you, tarry: pause a day or two Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong, 003 I lose your company: therefore forbear awhile. There’s something tells me, but it is not love, 005 I would not lose you; and you know yourself, Hate counsels not in such a quality. But lest you should not understand me well,— And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,— I would detain you here some month or two 010 Before you venture for me. I could teach you 011 How to choose right, but I am then forsworn; So will I never be: so may you miss me; But if you do, you’ll make me wish a sin, That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes, 015 They have o’er-look’d me, and divided me; 016 One half of me is yours, the other half yours. 017 Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, 018 And so all yours! O, these naughty times 019 Put bars between the owners and their rights! 020 And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so, 021 Let fortune go to hell for it, not I. 022 I speak too long; but ’tis to peize the time, 023 To eke it and to draw it out in length, To stay you from election. Bass. Let me choose; 025 For as I am, I live upon the rack. Por. Upon the rack, Bassanio! then confess What treason there is mingled with your love. Bass. None but that ugly treason of mistrust, Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love: 030 There may as well be amity and life ’Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love. Por. Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack, 033 Where men enforced do speak any thing. Bass. Promise me life, and I’ll confess the truth. Por. Well then, confess and live. Bass. 035 ‘Confess,’ and ‘love,’ Had been the very sum of my confession: O happy torment, when my torturer Doth teach me answers for deliverance! But let me to my fortune and the caskets. 040 Por. Away, then! I am lock’d in one of them: If you do love me, you will find me out. Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof. Let music sound while he doth make his choice; 044 Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, 045 Fading in music: that the comparison 046 May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream, And watery death-bed for him. He may win; And what is music then? Then music is Even as the flourish when true subjects bow 050 To a new-crowned monarch: such it is As are those dulcet sounds in break of day That creep into the dreaming bridegroom’s ear, And summon him to marriage. Now he goes, 054 With no less presence, but with much more love, 055 Than young Alcides, when he did redeem The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy To the sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice; The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives, With bleared visages, come forth to view 060 The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules! 061 Live thou, I live: with much much more dismay 062 I view the fight than thou that makest the fray. Music, whilst Bassanio comments on the caskets to himself. Song. 063 Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? 065 How begot, how nourished? 066 Reply, reply. 067 It is engender’d in the eye, With gazing fed; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. 070 Let us all ring fancy’s knell; 071 I’ll begin it,—Ding, dong, bell. All. Ding, dong, bell. Bass. So may the outward shows be least themselves: The world is still deceived with ornament. 075 In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, But, being seasoned with a gracious voice, Obscures the show of evil? In religion, What damned error, but some sober brow Will bless it, and approve it with a text, 080 Hiding the grossness with fair ornament? 081 There is no vice so simple, but assumes 082 Some mark of virtue on his outward parts: How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins 085 The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars; Who, inward search’d, have livers white as milk; And these assume but valour’s excrement To render them redoubted! Look on beauty, And you shall see ’tis purchased by the weight; 090 Which therein works a miracle in nature, Making them lightest that wear most of it: So are those crisped snaky golden locks 093 Which make such wanton gambols with the wind, Upon supposed fairness, often known 095 To be the dowry of a second head, The skull that bred them in the sepulchre. 097 Thus ornament is but the guiled shore To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf 099 Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word, 100 The seeming truth which cunning times put on 101 To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold, 102 Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee; 103 Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge ’Tween man and man: but thou, thou meagre lead, 105 Which rather threatenest than dost promise aught, 106 Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence; And here choose I: joy be the consequence! Por. [Aside] 108 How all the other passions fleet to air, As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced despair, 110 And shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy! 111 O love, be moderate; allay thy ecstasy; 112 In measure rein thy joy; scant this excess! I feel too much thy blessing: make it less, 114 For fear I surfeit! Bass. What find I here? [Opening the leaden casket. 115 Fair Portia’s counterfeit! What demi-god Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes? 117 Or whether, riding on the balls of mine, Seem they in motion? Here are sever’d lips, 119 Parted with sugar breath: so sweet a bar 120 Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs The painter plays the spider, and hath woven 122 A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men, Faster than gnats in cobwebs: but her eyes,— How could he see to do them? having made one, 125 Methinks it should have power to steal both his 126 And leave itself unfurnish’d. Yet look, how far The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow In underprizing it, so far this shadow Doth limp behind the substance. Here’s the scroll, 130 The continent and summary of my fortune. [Reads] You that choose not by the view, Chance as fair, and choose as true! Since this fortune falls to you, Be content and seek no new. 135 If you be well pleased with this, And hold your fortune for your bliss, Turn you where your lady is, And claim her with a loving kiss. A gentle scroll. Fair lady, by your leave; 140 I come by note, to give and to receive. Like one of two contending in a prize, That thinks he hath done well in people’s eyes, Hearing applause and universal shout, 144 Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt 145 Whether those peals of praise be his or no; So, thrice-fair lady, stand I, even so; As doubtful whether what I see be true, Until confirm’d, sign’d, ratified by you. 149 Por. You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand, 150 Such as I am: though for myself alone I would not be ambitious in my wish, To wish myself much better; yet, for you I would be trebled twenty times myself; 154 A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times 155 More rich; 156 That only to stand high in your account, I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends, Exceed account; but the full sum of me 159 Is sum of something, which, to term in gross, 160 Is an unlesson’d girl, unschool’d, unpractised; Happy in this, she is not yet so old 162 But she may learn; happier than this, She is not bred so dull but she can learn; 164 Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit 165 Commits itself to yours to be directed, As from her lord, her governor, her king. Myself and what is mine to you and yours 168 Is now converted: but now I was the lord 169 Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, 170 Queen o’er myself; and even now, but now, This house, these servants, and this same myself, 172 Are yours, my lord: I give them with this ring; Which when you part from, lose, or give away, Let it presage the ruin of your love, 175 And be my vantage to exclaim on you. Bass. Madam, you have bereft me of all words, Only my blood speaks to you in my veins; And there is such confusion in my powers, As, after some oration fairly spoke 180 By a beloved prince, there doth appear Among the buzzing pleased multitude; Where every something, being blent together, Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy, Express’d and not express’d. But when this ring 185 Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence: 186 O, then be bold to say Bassanio’s dead! Ner. My lord and lady, it is now our time, That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper, To cry, good joy: good joy, my lord and lady! 190 Gra. My Lord Bassanio and my gentle lady, I wish you all the joy that you can wish; For I am sure you can wish none from me: And when your honours mean to solemnize The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you, 195 Even at that time I may be married too. Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife. 197 Gra. I thank your lordship, you have got me one. My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours: You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid; 200 You loved, I loved for intermission. No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. 202 Your fortune stood upon the casket there, And so did mine too, as the matter falls; 204 For wooing here until I sweat again, 205 And swearing till my very roof was dry With oaths of love, at last, if promise last, I got a promise of this fair one here To have her love, provided that your fortune Achieved her mistress. Por. Is this true, Nerissa? 210 Ner. Madam, it is, so you stand pleased withal. Bass. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith? Gra. Yes, faith, my lord. Bass. Our feast shall be much honour’d in your marriage. Gra. We’ll play with them the first boy for a thousand 215 ducats. Ner. What, and stake down? Gra. No; we shall ne’er win at that sport, and stake down. 220 But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel? 221 What, and my old Venetian friend Salerio? Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salerio, a Messenger from Venice. Bass. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither; If that the youth of my new interest here Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave, 225 I bid my very friends and countrymen, Sweet Portia, welcome. 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 seen you here; 230 But meeting with Salerio by the way, He did entreat me, past all saying nay, To come with him along. Saler. 232 I did, my lord; And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio 234 Commends him to you. [Gives Bassanio a letter. Bass. Ere I ope his letter, 235 I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth. Saler. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind; Nor well, unless in mind: his letter there 238 Will show you his estate. 239 Gra. Nerissa, cheer yon stranger; bid her welcome. 240 Your hand, Salerio: what’s the news from Venice? How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio? I know he will be glad of our success; We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece. 244 Saler. I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost. 245 Por. There are some shrewd contents in yon same paper, 246 That steals the colour from Bassanio’s cheek: Some dear friend dead; else nothing in the world Could turn so much the constitution Of any constant man. What, worse and worse! 250 With leave, Bassanio; I am half yourself, 251 And I must freely have the half of any thing That this same paper brings you. Bass. O sweet Portia, Here are a few of the unpleasant’st words That ever blotted paper! Gentle lady, 255 When I did first 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 shall see 260 How much I was a braggart. When I told you My state was nothing, I should then have told you That I was worse than nothing; for, indeed, I have engaged myself to a dear friend, Engaged my friend to his mere enemy, 265 To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady; 266 The paper as the body of my friend, And every word in it a gaping wound, Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio? 269 Have all his ventures fail’d? What, not one hit? 270 From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England, From Lisbon, Barbary, and India? 272 And not one vessel scape the dreadful touch Of merchant-marring rocks? Saler. Not one, my lord. Besides, it should appear, that if he had 275 The present 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; 280 And doth impeach the freedom of the state, If they deny him justice: twenty merchants, The Duke himself, and the magnificoes Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him; But none can drive him from the envious plea 285 Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond. Jes. When I was with him I have heard him swear To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen, That he would rather have Antonio’s flesh Than twenty times the value of the sum 290 That he did owe him: and I know, my lord, If law, authority and power deny not, It will go hard with poor Antonio. Por. Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble? Bass. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, 295 The best-condition’d and unwearied spirit In doing courtesies; and one in whom The ancient Roman honour more appears Than any that draws breath in Italy. Por. What sum owes he the Jew? Bass. For me three thousand ducats. Por. 300 What, no more? Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond; Double six thousand, and then treble that, 303 Before a friend of this description 304 Shall lose a hair through Bassanio’s fault. 305 First go with me to church and call me wife, And then away to Venice to your friend; For never shall you lie by Portia’s side With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold To pay the petty debt twenty times over: 310 When it is paid, bring your true friend along. My maid Nerissa and myself meantime Will live as maids and widows. Come, away! For you shall hence upon your wedding-day: 314 Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer: 315 Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear. But let me hear the letter of your friend. Bass. [reads] 317 Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all miscarried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low, my bond to the Jew is forfeit; and since in paying it, it is impossible I should live, all 320 debts are cleared between you and I, if I might but see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your pleasure: if your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter. 323 Por. O love, dispatch all business, and be gone! Bass. Since I have your good leave to go away, 325 I will make haste: but, till I come again, No bed shall e’er be guilty of my stay, 327 No rest be interposer ’twixt us twain. [Exeunt.