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 mean4 note:
-- 482 --
superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, 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. 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 fashion5 note 11Q0286 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 curbed 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 chosen6 note by any
rightly, but one whom 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.
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
himself. I am much afraid, my lady his mother played
false with a smith.
-- 483 --
Ner.
Then, is there the county Palatine.
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 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;
a better bad habit of frowning than the count
Palatine: he is every man in no man; if a throstle
sing, he falls straight 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 him7 note.
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 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 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 11Q0287 lord, his
neighbour8 note?
-- 484 --
Por.
That he hath a neighbourly charity in him;
for he borrowed 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 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. 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 married 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 reasonable; for there is not one among them but I
dote on his very absence, and I pray God grant them a
fair departure9 note.
-- 485 --
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 news1 note?
Enter a Servant.
Serv.
The four strangers seek for you2 note, madam, to
take their leave; and there is a forerunner 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: 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.
J. Payne Collier [1842–1844], The works of William Shakespeare. The text formed from an entirely new collation of the old editions: with the various readings, notes, a life of the poet, and a history of the Early English stage. By J. Payne Collier, Esq. F.S.A. In eight volumes (Whittaker & Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S10101].