The virgin-tribute, paid by howling Troy
To the fea-monfter: I ftand for facrifice;
The reft aloof are the Dardanian wives,
With bleared vifages come forth to view
The iffue of th' exploit. Go, Hercules!
Live thou, I live; with much, much more difmay
I view the fight, than thou that mak❜st the fray.
A fong, whilft Bassanio comments on the caskets to himself.
Tell me, where is fancy bred,
Or in the heart, or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?
Reply, reply.
It is engender'd in the eyes,
With gazing fed, and fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies:
Let us all ring fancy's knell.
I'll begin it.
Ding, dong, bell.
All, Ding, dong, bell.
Baff. So may the outward fhows be least themfelves: The world is ftill deceiv'd with ornament.
In law, what plea fo tainted and corrupt,
But being feafon'd with a gracious voice,
Obfcures the show of evil? In religion,
What damned error, but some fober brow
Will blefs it, and approve it with a text,
Hiding the groffness with fair ornament?
There is no vice fo fimple, but affumes
Some mark of virtue on its outward parts.
How many cowards, whofe hearts are all as falfe
As ftairs of fand, wear yet upon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars;
Who, inward fearch'd, have livers white as milk?
And these affume but valour's excrement
To render them redoubted. Look on beauty,
And you fhall fee is purchas'd by the weight,
Which therein works a miracle in nature,
Making them lightest that wear most of it.
So are thofe crifped fnaky golden locks,
Which make fuch wanton gambols with the wind
Upon fuppofed fairnefs, often known
To be the dowry of a second head,
The fkull, that bred them, in the fepulchre.
Thus ornament is but the guilty fhore
To a most dang'rous fea; the beauteous scarf
Vailing an Indian beauty; in a word,
The feeming truth which cunning times put on
T' intrap the wifeft. Then, thou gaudy gold,
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee;
Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge
"Tween man and man: But thou, thou meagre lead,
Which rather threat'neft, than doft promife aught,
Thy plainnefs moves me more than eloquence;
And here chufe I; joy be the confequence!
Por. How all the other paffions fleet to air,
As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embrac'd despair,
And fhudd'ring fear, and green-ey'd jealousy.
O love, be moderate, allay thy ecftafy;
In measure rain thy joy, fcant this excefs,
I feel too much thy bleffing, make it lefs,
For fear I furfeit.
[Opening the leaden casket.
Fair Portia's counterfeit? What demy-god
Hath come fo near creation? Move thefe eyes?
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine,
Seem they in motion? Here are fever'd lips
Parted with fugar breath; fo fweet a bar
Should funder fuch fweet friends: here in her hairs
The painter plays the fpider, and hath woven
A golden mesh t' intrap the hearts of men,
Fafter than gnats in cobwebs: but her eyes,→→→
How could he fee to do them? having made one,
Methinks it fhould have power to steal both hia,
And leave itself unfinish’d. Yet how far
The fubftance of my praife doth wrong this fhadow
In underprizing it, fo far this fhadow
Doth limp behind the fubftance. Here's the fcroll,
The continent and fummary of my fortune.
You that chufe not by the view,
Chance as fair, and chufe as true:
Since this fortune falls to you,
Be content, and seek no new.
If you be well pleas'd with this,
And hold your fortune for your bliss,
Turn you where your lady is,
And claim her with a loving kiss.
A gentle scroll; fair Lady, by your leave;
I come by note to give, and to receive.
Like one of two contending in a prize,
That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes;
Hearing applaufe and univerfal fhout,
Giddy in fpirit, gazing fill in doubt,
Whether thofe peals of praise be his or no;
So (thrice fair Lady) stand I, even so,
As doubtful whether what I fee be true,
Until confirm'd, fign'd, ratify'd by you.
Por. You fee me, Lord Baffanio, where I ftand,
Such as I am; tho' for myself alone,
I would not be ambitious in my wifh,
To with myself much better; yet for you,
I would be treble twenty times myself,
A thousand times more fair; ten thousand times
More rich; that, to ftand high in your account,
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,
Exceed account; but the full fum of me
Is fum of fomething, which, to term in grofs,
Is an unleffon'd girl, unfchool'd, unpractis'd:
Happy in this, fhe is not yet so old
But she may learn; more happy then in this,
She is not bred fo dull but fhe can learn;
Happiest of all, is, that her gentle fpirit
Commits itself to yours to be directed,
As from her lord, her governor, her king:
Myfelf, and what is mine, to you and yours
Is now converted. But now I was the lord
Of this fair manfion, master of my fervants,
Queen o'er my felf; and even now, but row,
This noufe, these fervants, and this fame myself,
Are yours, my Lord: I give them with this ring,
Which when you part from, lofe or give away,
Let it prefage the ruin of your love,
And be my vantage to exclaim on you.
Baff Madam, you have bereft me of all words,
Only my blood fpeaks to you in my veins;
And there is fuch confufion in my pow'rs,
As, after fome oration fairly spoke
By a beloved prince, there doth appear
Among the buzzing pleafed multitude;
Where every fomething, being blent together,
Turns to a wild of nothing, fave of joy
Exprefs'd, and not exprefs'd. But when this ring
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence;
O, then be bold to fay, Baffanio's dead.
Ner. My Lord and Lady, it is now our time,
That have ftood by, and feen our wishes profper,
To cry, Good joy, good joy, my Lord and Lady!
Gra. My Lord Baffanio, and my gentle Lady,
I wish you all the joy that you can wish;
For, I am fure, you can with none from me*:
And when your Honours mean to folemnize
The bargain of your faith. I do befeech you,
Ev'n at that time I may be married too.
Bal. With all my heart, so thou canft get a wife.
Gra. I thank your Lordship, you have got me one.
My eyes, my Lord, can look as fwift as yours;
You faw the miftrefs, I beheld the maid;
You lov'd, I lov'd; for intermiffion
No more pertains to me, my Lord, than you.
Your fortune ftood upon the casket there;
And fo did mine too, as the matter falls:
For wooing here until I fweat again,
And fwearing, till my very roof was dry
With oaths of love; at last, if promise last,
got a promise of this fair one here, To have her love, provided that your Atchiev'd her mistress.
Por. Is this true, Neriffa ?
Baff. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith?
Gra. Yes, faith, my Lord.
Baff. Our feaft fhall be much honour'd in your marriage.
Gra. We'll play with them, the first boy for a thoufand ducats.
Ner. What, and stake down?
Gra. No, we fhall ne'er win at that sport, and stake down.
But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel?
What, and my old Venetian friend, Salanio?
Enter Lorenzo, Jeffica, and Salanis.
Ball. Lorenzo and Salanio, welcome hither; If that the youth of my new interest here power to bid you welcome. By your leave,
Por. So do I, my Lord; they are entirely welcome. Lor. I thank your Honour: for
My purpose was not to have feen you here;
But meeting with Salanio by the way,
He did intreat me, past all saying nay,
To come with him along.
Sal. I did, my Lord,
And I have reafon for't; Signior Anthonio
Commends him to you.
Baff. Ere I ope this letter,
Sal. Not fick, my Lord, unlefs it be in mind; Nor well, unless in mind; his letter there
Will fhew you his estate.
[Baffanio opens the letter.
Gra. Neriffa, cheer yon' ftranger: bid her welcome. Your hand, Salanio; what's the news from Venice? How doth that royal merchant, good Anthonio?
I know he will be glad of our fuccefs:
We are the Jafons, we have won the fleece.
Sal. Would you had won the fleece that he hath loft!
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