Nerissa.
Por.
By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is a-weary of
this great world.
-- 15 --
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 small
happiness, therefore, to be seated in the mean; superfluity
comes sooner by white hairs,17 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. But this reasoning 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 prince.18 note
Por.
Ay, that's a colt, indeed, for he doth nothing but
-- 16 --
talk of his horse,19 note and he makes it a great approbation of
his own good parts that he can shoe him himself.
Ner.
Then, is there the county Palatine.20 note
Por.
He doth nothing but frown; as who should say,
‘An 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 to be married to a
death's head with a bone in his mouth, than to either of
these. Heaven defend me from these two!
Ner.
How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon?
Por.
Heaven made him, and therefore let him pass for a
man.
Ner.
How like you the young German, the Duke of
Saxony's nephew?21 note
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.
-- 17 --
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.
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.
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 departure.
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 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 news?
Enter Balthazar.
Ser.
The four strangers seek 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.
Come, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before.
Whiles we shut the gate upon one wooer, another knocks at the door.
[Exeunt.
-- 18 --
Charles Kean [1858], Shakespeare's play of the Merchant of Venice, arranged for representation at the Princess's Theatre, with historical and explanatory notes, by Charles Kean, F.S.A., as first performed on Saturday, June 12th, 1858 (Printed by John K. Chapman and Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S35700].
