Portia's House.
Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, and Attendants.
The Caskets are set out.
Por.
I pray you, tarry; pause, a day or two,
Before you hazard; for in chusing wrong
I lose your company; therefore, forbear, a while,
There's something tells me (but it is not love)
I would not lose you; and, you know, yourself,
-- 195 --
Hate counsels not in such a quality.
I could teach you
How to chuse right, but I am then forsworn:
So will I never be; so you may miss me;
But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin,
That I had been forsworn.
Bass.
Let me chuse:
For as I am, I live upon the rack.
So let me to my fortune and the caskets.
Por.
Away, then! I am lockt in one of them:
If you do love me, you will find me out.
Nerissa, and the rest, stand all aloof,
Let musick sound, while he doth make his choice:
Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end,
Fading in musick.
[Music plays, and Bassanio goes to the caskets.
Bass.
So may the outward shews be least themselves:* note
The world is still deceiv'd with ornament.
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,
But being season'd 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;
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?
There is no vice so simple, but assumes
Some mark of virtue on its outward parts.
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins,
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars;
Who inward searcht, have livers white as milk?† note
-- 196 --
Then, thou gaudy gold,
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee:
Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge,
'Tween man and man: but thou, thou meager lead,
Which rather threatnest, than doth promise aught,
Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence;
And here chuse I: joy be the consequence!
Por.
O love, be moderate, allay thy extasy;
In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess,
I feel too much thy blessing, make it less;
For fear I surfeit.
[Opening the leaden casket.
Bass.
What find I here?
Fair Portia's counterfeit! what demi-god
Hath come so near creation? move these eyes?
Or whether riding on the balls of mine,
Seem they in motion? here are sever'd lips
Parted with sugar breath; so sweet a bar
Should sunder such sweet friends: but her eyes—
How could he see to do them? having made one,
Methinks, it should have power to steal both his,
And leave itself unfinish'd. Here's the scrowl,
The continent and summary of my fortune.
You that chuse not by the view,
Chance as fair, and chuse as true:
Since this fortune falls to you,
Be content, and seek no new.
If you be well pleas'd with this,
And hold your fortune for your bliss,
Turn you where your lady is,
And claim her with a loving kiss.
A gentle scrowl; fair lady, by your leave;
[Kissing her.
-- 197 --
I come by note to give, and to receive.
As doubtful whether what I see be true,
Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratify'd, by you.
Por.
You see me, lord Bassanio, where I stand,
Such as I am; tho' 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,
A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times
More rich; that, to stand high in your account,
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,
Exceed account; but the full sum of me
Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd:
Happy in this; she is not yet so old
But she may learn; more happy then in this,
She is not bred so dull but she can learn;
Happiest of all, is, that her gentle spirit
Commits itself to yours to be directed,
As from her lord, her governor, her king.
Myself, and what is mine, to you and yours,
Is now converted. But now I was the lord
Of this fair mansion, master of my servants,
Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now,
This house, these servants, and this same myself,
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,
And be my vantage to exclaim on you.
Bass.
Madam, you have bereft me of all words;
But when this ring
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence;
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 your wishes prosper,
To cry, great joy, good joy, my lord and lady!
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,
Ev'n at that time, I may be married, too
-- 198 --
Bass.
With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.
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;
You lov'd; I lov'd; for intermission
No more pertains to me, my lord, than you.
Your fortune stood upon the casket there;
And so did mine too, as the matter falls:
For wooing here, until I sweat again,
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
Atchiev'd her mistress.
Por.
Is this true, Nerissa?
Ner.
Madam, it is, so you stand pleas'd 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
ducats.
Ner.
What, and stake down?
Gra.
No, we shall ne'er win at that sport, and stake
down.
But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel?
What, and my old Venetian friend, Salanio?
Enter Lorenzo Jessica, and Salanio.
Bass.
Lorenzo and Salanio, welcome hither;
If that the youth of my new interest here,
Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave,
I bid my very friends and countrymen,
(Sweet Portia) welcome.
Por.
So do I, my lord; they are intirely welcome.
Lor.
I thank your honour; for my part, my lord,
My purpose was not to have seen you here;
But meeting with Salanio by the way,
He did intreat me, past all saying nay,
To come with him along.
-- 199 --
Sal.
I did, my lord.
And I have reason for't; Signior Anthonio
Commends him to you.
[Gives Bassanio a Letter.
Bass.
Ere I ope his letter,
I pray you tell me how my good friend doth.
Sal.
Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind;
Nor well, unless in mind; his letter there
Will shew you his estate
[Bassanio opens the Letter.
Gra.
Nerissa, cheer yon stranger: bid her welcome.
Your hand, Salanio; what's the news from Venice?
How doth that royal merchant, good Anthonio?
I know he will be glad of our success;
We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece.
Sal.
Would you had won the fleece that he hath lost!
Por.
There are some shrewd contents in yon same paper,
That steal 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!
With leave, Bassanio, I am half yourself,
And I must have the half of any thing,
That this same paper brings you.
Bass.
O sweet Portia?* note
Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words,
That ever blotted paper. Gentle lady,
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
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 engag'd myself to a dear friend,
Engag'd my friend to his mere enemy,
To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady,
-- 200 --
The paper, as the body of my friend;
And every word in it a gaping wound,
Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salanio?
Have all his ventures fail'd? What! not one hit?
From Tripolis, from Mexico, from England,
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India?
And not one vessel 'scap'd the dreadful touch,
Of merchant-marring rocks?
Sal.
Not one, my lord.
Besides, it should appear, that if he had
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,
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,
Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond.
Jes.
When I was with him I have heard him swear,
To Tubal and to Chus, his country-men,
That he would rather have Anthonio's flesh,
Than twenty times the value of the sum,
That he did owe him. And I know, my lord,
If law, authority, and pow'r deny not,
It will go hard with poor Anthonio.
Por.
Is it your dear friend, that is thus in trouble?
Bass.
The dearest friend to me, the kindest man,
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.
What, no more?
Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond;
Double six thousand, and then treble that,
Before a friend of this description,
-- 201 --
Shall lose a hair, thro' my Bassanio's fault.* note
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.
When it is paid, bring your true friend along;
My maid Nerissa, and myself, mean time,
Will live as maids and widows. Come, away!
For you shall hence upon your wedding-day.
Bid your friends welcome, shew a merry cheer;
Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear.
But let me hear the letter of your friend.
Bassanio reads.
Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all miscarried, and 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 debts are cleared between you and me,
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.
Por.
O, love! dispatch all business, and be gone.
Bass.
Since I have your good leave to go away.
I will make haste; but 'till I come again,
No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay;
No rest be interposer 'twixt us twain.
[Exeunt.
John Bell [1774], Bell's Edition of Shakespeare's Plays, As they are now performed at the Theatres Royal in London; Regulated from the Prompt Books of each House By Permission; with Notes Critical and Illustrative; By the Authors of the Dramatic Censor (Printed for John Bell... and C. Etherington [etc.], York) [word count] [S10401].
