Belmont. A Room in Portia's House.
 Enter BASSANIO, PORTIA, GRATIANO, NERISSA, and all their TRAINS.

Portia	I pray you, tarry. Pause a day or two
	Before you hazard, for, in choosing wrong,
	I lose your company; therefore forbear a while.
	There's something tells me, but it is not love,
	I would not lose you; and you know yourself,
	Hate counsels not in such a quality.
	But lest you should not understand me well,
	And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,
	I would detain you here some month or two
	Before you venture for me. I could teach you
	How to choose right, but then I am forsworn;
	So will I never be - so may you miss me,
	But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin,
	That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes,
	They have o'erlooked me and divided me.
	One half of me is yours, the other half yours-
	Mine own I would say, but if mine then yours,
	And so all yours. O, these naughty times
	Put bars between the owners and their rights!
	And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so,
	Let Fortune go to hell for it, not I.
	I speak too long, but 'tis to peise the time,
	To eke it, and to draw it out in length,
	To stay you from election.

Bassanio									Let me choose;
	For as I am, I live upon the rack.

Portia	Upon the rack, Bassanio? Then confess
	What treason there is mingled with your love.

Bassanio	None but that ugly treason of mistrust
	Which makes me fear th'enjoying of my love.
	There may as well be amity and life
	'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love.

Portia	Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack
	Where men enforcd do speak anything.

Bassanio	Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth.

Portia	Well then, confess and live.

Bassanio										'Confess' and 'love'
	Had been the very sum of my confession.
	O happy torment, when my torturer
	Doth teach me answers for deliverance!
	But let me to my fortune, and the caskets.

Portia	Away then! I am locked in one of them;
	If you do love me, you will find me out.
	Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof.
	Let music sound while he doth make his choice;
	Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end,
	Fading in music. That the comparison
	May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream
	And wat'ry death-bed for him. He may win,
	And what is music then? Then music is
	Even as the flourish when true subjects bow
	To a new-crownd monarch; such it is
	As are those dulcet sounds in break of day
	That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear
	And summon him to marriage. Now he goes
	With no less presence, but with much more love
	Than young Alcides, when he did redeem
	The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy
	To the sea-monster. I stand for sacrifice;
	The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives,
	With bleard visages, come forth to view
	The issue of th'exploit. Go, Hercules!
	Live thou, I live. With much much more dismay
	I view the fight, than thou that mak'st the fray.

      A song the whilst BASSANIO comments on the caskets to himself.

A Servant			Tell me where is fancy bred,
			Or in the heart or in the head?
			How begot, how nourishd?
				Reply, reply.
			It is engendered 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.

Bassanio	So may the outward shows be least themselves.
	The world is still deceived with ornament.
	In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt
	But, being seasoned with a gracious voice,
	Obscures the show of evil? In religion,
	What damnd error, but some sober brow
	Will bless it and approve it with a text,
	Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?
	There is no vice so simple but assumes
	Some mark of virtue on his outward parts.
	How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false
	As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins
	The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars,
	Who, inward searched, have livers white as milk?
	And these assume but valour's excrement
	To render them redoubted. Look on beauty
	And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight,
	Which therein works a miracle in nature,
	Making them lightest that wear most of it;
	So are those crispd snaky golden locks,
	Which make such wanton gambols with the wind
	Upon supposd fairness, often known
	To be the dowry of a second head,
	The skull that bred them in the sepulchre.
	Thus ornament is but the guild shore
	To a most dangerous sea, the beauteous scarf
	Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word,
	The seeming truth which cunning times put on
	To entrap the wisest. Therefore, 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 threaten'st than dost promise aught,
	Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence,
	And here choose I. Joy be the consequence!

Portia	[Aside.] How all the other passions fleet to air,
	As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced despair,
	And shudd'ring fear, and green-eyed jealousy!
	O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy;
	In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess.
	I feel too much thy blessing; make it less,
	For fear I surfeit.

Bassanio							What find I here?
											[He opens the leaden casket.
	Fair Portia's counterfeit! What demigod
	Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes?
	Or whether, riding on the balls of mine,
	Seem they in motion? Here are severed lips
	Parted with sugar breath: so sweet a bar
	Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs
	The painter plays the spider, and hath woven
	A golden mesh t'entrap the hearts of men
	Faster than gnats in cobwebs. But her eyes!
	How could he see to do them? Having made one,
	Methinks it should have power to steal both his
	And leave itself unfurnished; yet look how far
	The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow
	In underprizing it, so far this shadow
	Doth limp behind the substance. Here's the scroll,
	The continent and summary of my fortune.

	[Reads.]	You that choose not by the view
			Chance as fair and choose as true.
			Since this fortune falls to you,
			Be content and seek no new.
			If you be well pleased 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 applause and universal shout,
	Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt
	Whether those peals of praise be his or no;
	So, thrice-fair lady, stand I even so,
	As doubtful whether what I see be true,
	Until confirmed, signed, ratified by you.

Portia	You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand,
	Such as I am; though for myself alone
	I would not be ambitious in my wish,
	To wish myself much better, yet, for you,
	I would be trebled twenty times myself,
	A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich,
	That only to stand high in your account,
	I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,
	Exceed account. But the full sum of me
	Is sum of something; which, to term in gross,
	Is an unlessoned girl, unschooled, unpractisd;
	Happy in this, she is not yet so old
	But she may learn; happier than this,
	She is not bred so dull but she can learn;
	Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit
	Commits itself to yours to be directed,
	As from her lord, her governor, her king.
	Myself, and what is mine, to you and yours
	Is now converted. But now I was the lord
	Of this fair mansion, master of my servants,
	Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now,
	This house, these servants, and this same myself
	Are yours - my lord's. I give them with this ring,
	Which when you part from, lose, or give away,
	Let it presage the ruin of your love,
	And be my vantage to exclaim on you.

Bassanio	Madam, you have bereft me of all words.
	Only my blood speaks to you in my veins;
	And there is such confusion in my powers,
	As, after some oration fairly spoke
	By a belovd prince, there doth appear
	Among the buzzing pleasd multitude,
	Where every something being blent together,
	Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy
	Expressed, and not expressed. But when this ring
	Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence.
	O, then be bold to say Bassanio's dead!

Nerissa	My lord and lady, it is now our time,
	That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper,
	To cry good joy. Good joy, my lord and lady!

Gratiano	My Lord Bassanio, and my gentle lady,
	I wish you all the joy that you can wish;
	For I am sure you can wish none from me.
	And when your honours mean to solemnize
	The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you,
	Even at that time I may be married too.

Bassanio	With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.

Gratiano	I thank your lordship, you have got me one.
	My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours.
	You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid.
	You loved, I loved: for intermission
	No more pertains to me my lord than you.
	Your fortune stood upon the caskets there,
	And so did mine too, as the matter falls;
	For wooing here until I sweat again,
	And swearing till my very roof was dry
	With oaths of love, at last, if promise last,
	I got a promise of this fair one here
	To have her love, provided that your fortune
	Achieved her mistress.

Portia							Is this true, Nerissa?

Nerissa	Madam, it is, so you stand pleased withal.

Bassanio	And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith?

Gratiano	Yes, faith, my lord.

Bassanio	Our feast shall be much honoured in your marriage.

Gratiano	We'll play with them the first boy for a thousand ducats.

Nerissa	What, and stake down?

Gratiano	No, we shall ne'er win at that sport, and stake down.

      Enter LORENZO, JESSICA, and SALERIO, a messenger from Venice.

	But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel?
	What, and my old Venetian friend Salerio?

Bassanio	Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither,
	If that the youth of my new int'rest here
	Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave,
	I bid my very friends and countrymen,
	Sweet Portia, welcome.

Portia								So do I, my lord;
	They are entirely welcome.

Lorenzo	I thank your honour. For my part, my lord,
	My purpose was not to have seen you here,
	But meeting with Salerio by the way,
	He did entreat me, past all saying nay,
	To come with him along.

Salerio									I did, my lord,
	And I have reason for it. Signor Antonio
	Commends him to you.
													[Gives BASSANIO a letter.

Bassanio							Ere I ope his letter,
	I pray you tell me how my good friend doth.

Salerio	Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind,
	Nor well, unless in mind; his letter there
	Will show you his estate.
								[BASSANIO opens and reads the letter.

Gratiano	Nerissa, cheer yond stranger, bid her welcome.
	Your hand, Salerio. What's the news from Venice?
	How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio?
	I know he will be glad of our success;
	We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece.

Salerio	I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost.

Portia	There are some shrewd contents in yond same paper,
	That steals the colour from Bassanio's cheek:
	Some dear friend dead, else nothing in the world
	Could turn so much the constitution
	Of any constant man. What, worse and worse?
	With leave Bassanio, I am half yourself,
	And I must freely have the half of anything
	That this same paper brings you.

Bassanio											O sweet Portia,
	Here are a few of the unpleasant'st 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 myself at nothing, you shall see
	How much I was a braggart. When I told you
	My state was nothing, I should then have told you
	That I was worse than nothing; for, indeed,
	I have engaged myself to a dear friend,
	Engaged my friend to his mere enemy,
	To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady,
	The paper as the body of my friend,
	And every word in it a gaping wound
	Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio?
	Hath all his ventures failed? What, not one hit?
	From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England,
	From Lisbon, Barbary, and India,
	And not one vessel 'scape the dreadful touch
	Of merchant-marring rocks?

Salerio									Not one, my lord.
	Besides, it should appear, that if he had
	The present money to discharge the Jew,
	He would not take it. Never did I know
	A creature that did bear the shape of man
	So keen and greedy to confound a man.
	He plies the duke at morning and at night,
	And doth impeach the freedom of the state
	If they deny him justice. Twenty merchants,
	The duke himself, and the magnificoes
	Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him,
	But none can drive him from the envious plea
	Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond.

Jessica	When I was with him, I have heard him swear
	To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen,
	That he would rather have Antonio's flesh
	Than twenty times the value of the sum
	That he did owe him: and I know, my lord,
	If law, authority, and power, deny not,
	It will go hard with poor Antonio.

Portia	Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble?

Bassanio	The dearest friend to me, the kindest man,
	The best-conditioned and unwearied spirit
	In doing courtesies, and one in whom
	The ancient Roman honour more appears
	Than any that draws breath in Italy.

Portia	What sum owes he the Jew?

Bassanio	For me, three thousand ducats.

Portia										What, no more?
	Pay him six thousand and deface the bond.
	Double six thousand, and then treble that,
	Before a friend of this description
	Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault.
	First go with me to church and call me wife,
	And then away to Venice to your friend;
	For never shall you lie by Portia's side
	With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold
	To pay the petty debt twenty times over.
	When it is paid, bring your true friend along.
	My maid Nerissa, and myself, meantime,
	Will live as maids and widows. Come, away!
	For you shall hence upon your wedding-day.
	Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer;
	Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear.
	But let me hear the letter of your friend.

Bassanio	[Reads.]	Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all miscarried, my 
	creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low, my bond to the 
	Jew is forfeit; and, since in paying it it is impossible I 
	should live, all debts are cleared between you and I, if I 
	might but see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your 
	pleasure; if your love do not persuade you to come, let not 
	my letter.

Portia	O love, dispatch all business and be gone!

Bassanio	Since I have your good leave to go away,
	I will make haste; but, till I come again,
	No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay,
	Nor rest be interposer 'twixt us twain.
														[Exeunt.
