SCENE II.
A Room in Portia's House at Belmont.
Enter Portia and 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 happiness therefore, to be seated in the
mean; superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but
competency lives longer.
Por.
Good sentences, and well pronounc'd.
Ner.
They would be better, if well follow'd.
-- 141 --
Por.
If to do, were as easy as to know what were
good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor
mens 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 temper
leaps o'er a cold decree: such a hare is madness the
youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the
cripple. But this reasoning is not in the fashion 9Q0315 to
chuse me a husband:—O me, the word chuse! I may
neither chuse 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 chuse 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 chuses his meaning,
chuses 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
nam'st them, I will describe them; and, according
to my description, level at my affection.
Ner.
First, there is the Neapolitan prince.
Por.
Ay, that's a colt5 note
, indeed, for he doth nothing
-- 142 --
but talk of his horse; and he makes it a great
appropriation to his own good parts, that he can shoe
him himself: I am much afraid my lady his mother
play'd false with a smith.
Ner.
Then, there is the county Palatine6 note.
Por.
He doth nothing but frown; as who should
say, An if you will not have me, chuse: 7 notehe 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 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;
-- 143 --
a better bad habit of frowning than the count
Palatine: he is every man in no man: if a throstle
sing, he falls strait a capering; 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 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 Italian8 note; and you will come into the
court and swear, that I have a poor pennyworth in
the English. He is a proper man's picture; 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 lord9 note, his
neighbour?
Por.
That he hath a neighbourly charity in him;
for he borrow'd 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 surety1 note, and
seal'd under for another.
Ner.
How like you the young German2 note
, the duke
of Saxony's nephew?
-- 144 --
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 chuse, and chuse 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 chuse it. I will do
any thing, Nerissa, ere I will be marry'd 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 very reasonable; for there is not one among
them but I dote on his very absence, and I pray God
grant them a fair departure. 9Q0316
Ner.
Do you not remember, lady, in your father's
time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, that came
hither in company of the Marquis of Montferrat?
Por.
Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, so he
was call'd.
Ner.
True, madam; he, of all the men that ever
my foolish eyes look'd upon, was the best deserving
a fair lady.
Por.
I remember him well; and I remember him
worthy of thy praise.—How now! what news? 9Q0317
-- 145 --
Enter a Servant.
Ser.
The four strangers seek for 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 farewel, I should be
glad of his approach: if he have the condition 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.
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].