Jes. Farewell : and if my fortune be not crost, I have a father, you a daughter, lost.

[Exit.

Enter SALANIO, GRATIANO, and SALARINO, masqued.

Gra. This is the pent-house ; under which Lorenzo Desir'd us to make stand. Salar.

His hour is almost past. Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, For lovers ever run before the clock.

Salar. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly
To seal love's bonds new made, than they are wont,
To keep obliged faith unforfeited !

Gra. That ever holds : Who riseth from a feast,
With that keen appetite that he sits down?
Where is the horse that doth untread again
His tedious measures with the unbated fire
That he did pace them first ? All things that are,
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd.

Enter LORENZO,

Salar. Here comes Lorenzo.

Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode; Not I, but my affairs have made you wait; When you shall please to play the thieves for wives, I'll watch as long for you then.-Approach ; Here dwells my father, Jew -Ho! who's within ?

JESSICA above, in boy's clothes.

Fes. Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty, Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue.

Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love.

Fes. Lorenzo, certain ; and my love, indeed ; For who love I so much ? And now who knows, But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours?

Lor. Heaven, and thy thoughts, are witness that

thou art. Fes. Here catch this casket; it is worth the pains. I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me, For I am much asham'd of my exchange ; But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit; For if they could, Cupid himself would blush To see me thus transformed to a boy.

Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer.

Jes. What, must I hold a candle to my shames ?
They in themselves, good sooth, are too, too light.
Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love;
And I should be obscur'd.
Lor.

So are you, sweet,
Even in the lovely garnish of a boy.
But come at once;
For the close night doth play the run-away,
And we are staid for at Bassanio's feast.

Fes. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself
With some more ducats, and be with you straight.

[Exit, from above. Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew.

Lor. Beshrew me, but I love her heartily:
For she is wise, if I can judge of her ;
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true;
And true she is, as she hath proved herself;
And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true,
Shall she be placed in my constant soul.

[Serenade,

Enter Jessica, below.

What, art thou come ?-On, gentlemen, away;
Our masquing mates by this time for us stay.

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I. Belmont. A Room in Portia's House. Attendants on Portia and on the Prince of Morocco.

Flourish.

Enter the PRINCE of MOROCCO, PORTIA, NERISSA,

and Attendants.

Morocco.
ISLIKE me not for my complexion,
The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun,
To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred.

Bring me the fairest creature northward
born,
Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles,
And let us make incision for your love,
To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine.

Por. In terms of choice I am not solely led
By nice direction of a maiden's eyes:
Besides, the lottery of my destiny
Bars me the right of voluntary choosing :
But, if my father had not scanted me,
And hedg'd me by his wit, to yield myself
His wife, who wins me by that means I told you,
Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair,
As any comer I have looked on yet,
For my affection.
Mor.

Even for that I thank you;
Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets,
To try my fortune.

Por. Draw aside the curtains, and discover

The several caskets to this noble prince :
Now make your choice.

Mor. The first, of gold, who this inscription bears ;-
Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire,
The second, silver, which this promise carries ;-
Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves.
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt;-
Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath.
How shall I know if I do choose the right?

Por. The one of them contains my picture, prince ; If you

choose that, then I am yours withal. Mor. Some god direct my judgment! Let me see, I will survey th' inscriptions back again : What says this leaden casket ? Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath. Must give--For what? for lead? hazard for lead? This casket theatens: Men, that hazard all, Do it in hope of fair advantages : A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross; I'll then nor give, nor hazard, aught for lead. What says the silver, with her virgin hue? Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves. As much as he deserves ?-Pause there, Morocco, And weigh thy value with an even hand: If thou be'st rated by thy estimation, Thou dost deserve enough; and yet enough May not extend so far as to the lady; As much as I deserve !-- Why, that's the lady: I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes, In graces, and in qualities of breeding; But more than these, in love I do deserve. What if I stray'd no further, but chose here?Let's see once more this saying grav'd in gold : Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire. Why, that's the lady; all the world desires her. From the four corners of the earth they come, To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint. One of these three contains her heavenly picture. Is't like, that lead contains her ? 'Twere damnation,

To think so base a thought; it were too gross
To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave.
Or shall I think, in silver she's immur'd,
Being ten times undervalued to try'd gold?
O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem
Was set in worse than gold.
Deliver me the key ;
Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may !

Por. There, take it, prince, and if my form lie there, Then I am yours. [He unlocks the golden casket. Mor.

O hell! what have we here!
A carrion death, within whose empty eye
There is a written scroll : I'll read the writing.

All that glisters is not gold,
Often have you heard that told :
Many a man his life hath sold,
But my outside to behold:
Gilded tombs do worms infold.
Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgment old,
Your answer had not been inscroll'd:

Fare you well; your suit is cold.
Cold, indeed; and labour lost :
Then, farewell, heat; and welcome, frost.--
Portia, adieu ! I have too griev'd a heart
To take a tedious leave : thus losers part. [Exit.
Por. A gentle riddance :

-Draw the curtains, go; Let all of his complexion choose me so. [Exeunt.