Por.

By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is weary 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; therefore it is no small happiness 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 easie as to know what were good to do, chappels had been churches, and poor mens cottages Princes palaces. He is a good divine that follows his own instructions; I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than to 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 ^{c note}reasoning is not in fashion 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 whom you shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these princely suters 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 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 shoo him himself: I am much afraid my lady his mother play'd false with a smith.

Ner.

Then there is the Count Palatine.

Por.

He doth nothing but frown, as who should say, if you will not have me, chuse: 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 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 Boun!

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 ^{d note}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 should 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 Italian, and you may 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 ^{e note}Scottish lord his neighbour?

Por.

That he hath a neighbourly charity in him, for he borrow'd a box of the ear of the English-man, and swore he would pay him again when he was able. I think the French-man became his surety, and sealed 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; and 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 Sibilla, I will die as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtain'd 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 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 Mountferrat?

Por.

Yes, yes, it was Bassanio, as I think, he was so called.

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?

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 tonight.

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; while we shut the gate upon one wooer, another knocks at the door.