There is no vice fo fimple, but affumes
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts.
How many cowards, whofe hearts are all as false
As ftairs of fand, wear yet upon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars;
Who, inward fearcht, have livers white as milk?
And thefe affume but * valour's excrement,
To render them redoubted. Look on beauty,
And you fhall fee 'tis purchas'd by the weight,
Which therein works a miracle in nature,
Making them lightest that wear most of it:
So are thofe crifped afnaky golden locks,
Which make fuch wanton gambols with the wind
Upon fuppofed fairness, often known
To be the dowry of a fecond head,
The skull, that bred them, in the fepulcher.
Thus Ornament is but the gilded shore
To a most dang'rous fea; the beauteous fearf
Veiling an Indian † dowdy; in a word,
The feeming truth which cunning times put on
T'entrap 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 meager lead,
Which rather threatneft than doft promise ought;
Thy plainness 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 jealoufie.
Be moderate, love! allay thy ecftafie;
In measure rain thy joy, fcant this excefs,
I feel too much thy bleffing; make it less,
For fear I furfeit.
Baff. What do I find here?
[Opening the leaden cafket.
Fair Portia's counterfeit ? what Demy-god
Hath come fo near creation? move these eyes?
Or whether riding on the balls of mine
The word dowdy is used again in Kom, and Jul.
Seem they in motion? here are fever'd lips
Parted with fugar'd breath; fo fweet a bar
Should funder fuch fweet friends: here in her hair
The painter plays the spider, 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 should have pow'r to fteal both his,
And leave it felf unfurnish'd: yet how far
The fubftance of my praise doth wrong this fhadow
In underprifing it, fo far this fhadow
Doth limp behind the fubftance. Here's the fcrowl,
The continent and summary 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 feek no new.
If you be well pleas'd with this,
And bold your fortune for your blifs,
Turn you where your lady is,
And claim her with a loving kifs.
A gentle fcrowl; 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 ftill in doubt,
Whether thofe peals of praise be his or no ;
So (thrice fair lady) ftand I, even fo,
As doubtful whether what I fee be true,
Until confirm'd, fign'd, ratify'd by you.
Por. You fee, my lord Baffanio, where I ftand,
Such as I am; tho' for my felf alone,
I would not be ambitious in my wish,
To wish my self much better; yet for you,
I would be trebled twenty times my self,
A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times
More rich, that, to ftand high in your account,
*That is, not furnished with another eye.
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,
Exceed account: but the full fum of me,
Is fum of nothing, which, to term in grofs,
Is an unleffon'd girl, unfchool'd, unpractis'd:
Happy in this, fhe is not yet fo old
But the may learn; more happy then in this,
She is not bred fo dull but the can learn ;
Happiest of all is, that her gentle fpirit
Commits it felf to yours to be directed,
As from her lord, her governor, her King:
My felf, and what is mine, to you and yours
Is now converted. I but now was Lady
Of this fair manfion, miftress of my servants,
Queen o'er my felf; and even now, but now,
This house, these fervants, and this fame my felf
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 something, being blent together,
Turns to a wild of nothing, fave of joy
Expreft, and not expreft. But when this ring
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence;
O, then be bold to fay, Bassanio's dead.
Ner. My lord and lady, it is now our time,
That have stood 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 with ;-
For I am fure you can with none from *me:
And when your honours mean to folemnize
The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you
Ev'n at that time I may be married too.
* That is, distinct from me and my wishes,
VEL, II,
Baff. With all my heart, fo thou canst 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 cafket 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 laft, if promise last,
I got a promife of this fair one here
To have her love, provided that your fortune
Atchiev'd her mistress.
Por. Is this true, Neriffa?
Ner. Madam, it is, fo you ftand pleas'd withal.
Baff. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith?
Gra. Yes, faith, my lord.
Bal. Our feaft fhall be much honour'd in your marriage.
Gra. We'll play with them, the first boy for a thousand
Ner. What, and stake down?
[ducats.
Gra. No, we shall ne'er win at that fport,and ftake down.
But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel?
What, and my old Venetian friend, Salanio?
SCENE III. Enter Lorenzo, Jeffica, and Salanio.
Baff. Lorenzo and Salanio, welcome hither,
If that the youth of my new interest here
Have pow'r to bid you welcome. By your leave,
I bid my very friends and country-men
(Sweet Portia) welcome.
Por. So do I, my lord; they are intirely welcome. Lor. I thank your honour: for my part, my lord, My purpose was not to have feen you here,
But meeting with Salanio by the way,
He did intreat me, paft all faying nay,
To come with him along.
Sal. I did, my lord,
And I have reafon for't; Signior Anibonio
Commends him to you.
Baff. Ere I ope his letter,
I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth.
Sal. Not fick, my lord, unless it be in mind:
Nor well, unless in mind: his letter there
Will fhew you his estate.
Baffanio opens the letter.
Gra. Neriffa, cheer yond stranger. 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! Por. There are some fhrewd contents in yond fame paper, That steal the colour from Bafanio's cheek:
Some dear friend dead; else nothing in the world,
Could turn fo much the conftitution
Of any conftant man. What, worse and worse!
With leave, Baffanio, I am half your self,
And I must have the half of any thing
That this fame paper brings you.
Here are a few of the unpleasant'ft words
That ever blotted paper. Gentle lady,
When I did first impart my love to you,
I freely told you, all the wealth I had
Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman;
And then I told you true; and yet, dear lady,
Rating my self at nothing you fhall fee
How much I was a braggart: when I told you
My state was nothing, I fhould then have told you,
That I was worse than nothing. For indeed
I have engag'd my felf to a dear friend;
Engag'd my friend to his meer enemy,
To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady,
The paper is the body of my friend,
And every word in it a gaping wound,
Iffuing life-blood. But is it true, Salanio?
Have all his ventures fail'd? what, not one hit
From Tripolis, from Mexico, from England,
From Lifbon, Barbary, and India?
And not one veffel 'fcap'd the dreadful touch
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