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 ought I see, they are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing: It is no mean happiness ^note 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.

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 ^note 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 ^note to choose me a husband:— O me, the word choose! I may neither choose whom ^note I would, nor refuse whom ^note I dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curb'd by the will of a dead father:— Is it ^note 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 ^note be chosen by any rightly, but one who you ^note 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 ^note, 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 ^note prince.

Por.

Ay, that's a colt, indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse; and he makes it a great appropriation to his own good parts, that he can shoe him ^note himself: I am much afeard ^note, my lady his mother play'd false with a smith.

Ner.

Then, is there the county Palatine. ^note

Por.

He doth nothing but frown; as who should say,

An you ^note 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 marry'd 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 ^note to be a mocker; But, he! why, he hath a horse better than the Neapolitan's; ^note a better bad habit of frowning than the count Palatine ^note: he is every man in no man: if a throstle ^note sing, ^note he falls straight a cap'ring; 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 ^note requite him.

Ner.

What say then ^note to Fauconbridge, 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 Italian; 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 picture; But, alas, who can converse with a dumb-show? How odly 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 lord ^note14Q0266, 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 ^note he would pay him again, when he was able: I think, the Frenchman became his surety, and seal'd under for another.

Ner.

How like you the young German, 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 ^note 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 ^note imposition, depending on the caskets.

Por.

If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as chast 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 doat on his very absence, and I pray God grant them ^note a fair departure.

Ner.

Do you not remember, lady, in your father's

time, a Venetian, a scholar ^note, 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 ^note.

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? ^note

Ser.

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 ^note 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 ^note upon one wooer, another knocks at the door.