Nerissa.
Por.
By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary
of this great world.
Ner.
You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries
were in the same abundance as your good fortunes
are: And, yet, for aught I see, they are as
sick, that surfeit with too much, as they that starve
with nothing: It is no mean* note happiness therefore,
to be seated in the mean; superfluity comes sooner
by white hairs4 note, but competency lives longer.
Por.
Good sentences, and well pronounced.
Ner.
They would be better, if well followed.
Por.
If to do were as easy as to know what were
good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor
men's cottages, princes' palaces. It is a good divine
that follows his own instructions: I can easier teach
twenty what were good to be done, than be one of
the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The
brain may devise laws for the blood; but a hot
-- 19 --
temper leaps over a cold decree: such a hare is
madness the youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good
counsel the cripple. But this reasoning* note is not in
the fashion to choose me a husband:—O me, the
word choose! I may neither choose whom I would,
nor refuse whom I dislike; so is the will of a living
daughter curb'd by the will of a dead father:—Is
it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose one, nor
refuse none?
Ner.
Your father was ever virtuous; and holy
men, at their death, have good inspirations; therefore,
the lottery, that he hath devised in these three
chests, of gold, silver, and lead, (whereof who
chooses his meaning, chooses you,) will, no doubt,
never be chosen by any rightly, but one who you
shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in
your affection towards any of these princely suitors
that are already come?
Por.
I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou
namest them, I will describe them; and, according
to my description, level at my affection.
Ner.
First, there is the Neapolitan prince5 note
.
Por.
Ay, that's a colt, indeed, for he doth nothing
but talk of his horse6 note; and he makes it a great
-- 20 --
appropriation to his own good parts, that he can
shoe him himself: I am much afraid, my lady his
mother played false with a smith.
Ner.
Then, is there the county Palatine7 note
.
Por.
He doth nothing but frown; as who should
say, An if you will not have me, choose: he hears
merry tales, and smiles not: I fear, he will prove
the weeping philosopher when he grows old, being
so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had
rather be* note married to a death's head with a bone
in his mouth, than to either of these. God defend
me from these two!
Ner.
How say you by the French lord, Monsieur
Le Bon?
Por.
God made him, and therefore let him pass
for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a
mocker; But, he! why, he hath a horse better than
the Neapolitan's; a better bad habit of frowning
than the count Palatine: he is every man in no
man; if a throstle8 note
sing, he falls straight a capering;
-- 21 --
he will fence with his own shadow: if I should
marry him, I should marry twenty husbands: If
he would despise me, I would forgive him; for if
he love me to madness, I shall* note never requite
him.
Ner.
What say you then to Faulconbridge, the
young baron of England?
Por.
You know, I say nothing to him; for he
understands not me, nor I him: he hath neither
Latin, French, nor Italian9 note; and you will come
into the court and swear, that I have a poor penny-worth
in the English. He is a proper man's picture1 note
;
But, alas! who can converse with a dumb
show? How oddly he is suited! I think, he
bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose in
France, his bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour
every where.
Ner.
What think you of the Scottish lord2 note, his
neighbour?
Por.
That he hath a neighbourly charity in him;
for he borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman,
and swore he would pay him again, when he
was able: I think, the Frenchman became his
surety3 note, and sealed under for another.
-- 22 --
Ner.
How like you the young German4 note
, the
duke of Saxony's nephew.
Por.
Very vilely in the morning, when he is
sober; and most vilely in the afternoon, when he is
drunk: when he is best, he is a little worse than a
man; and when he is worst, he is little better than
a beast: an the worst fall that ever fell, I hope, I
shall make shift to go without him.
Ner.
If he should offer to choose, and choose the
right casket, you should refuse to perform your
father's will, if you should refuse to accept him.
Por.
Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee,
set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary
casket: for, if the devil be within, and that temptation
without, I know he will choose it. I will do
any thing, Nerissa, ere I will be married to a spunge.
Ner.
You need not fear, lady, the having any of
these lords; they have acquainted me with their
determinations: which is indeed, to return to their
home, and to trouble you with no more suit; unless
you may be won by some other sort than your father's
imposition, depending on the caskets.
Por.
If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as
chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner
of my father's will: I am glad this parcel of
wooers are so reasonable; for there is not one among
them but I dote on his very absence, and I wish
them a fair departure5 note.
Ner.
Do you not remember, lady, in your father's
time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier,
-- 23 --
that came hither in company of the Marquis of
Montferrat?
Por.
Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, so
was he called.
Ner.
True, madam; he, of all the men that
ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving
a fair lady.
Por.
I remember him well; and I remember
him worthy of thy praise.—How now! what news6 note?
Enter a Servant.
Serv.
The four strangers seek for* note you, madam,
to take their leave: and there is a fore-runner come
from a fifth, the prince of Morocco; who brings
word, the prince, his master, will be here to-night.
Por.
If I could bid the fifth welcome with so
good heart, as I can bid the other four farewell, I
should be glad of his approach: if he have the condition7 note
of a saint, and the complexion of a devil,
I had rather he should shrive me than wive me.
Come, Nerissa.—Sirrah, go before.—Whiles we
shut the gate upon one wooer, another knocks at
the door.
[Exeunt.
James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
