swear,

My sober house.-By Jacob's staff I
I have no mind of feasting forth to-night:
But I will go.-Go you before me, sirrah;
Say, I will come.

Laun.

I will go before, sir.Mistress, look out at window for all this; There will come a Christian by,

Will be worth a Jewess' eye.
[Exit LAUN.
Shy. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha?
Jes. His words were, Farewell, mistress; nothing else,
Shy. The patch is kind enough; but a huge feeder,
Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day

More than the wild cat: drones hive not with me,
Therefore I part with him; and part with him
To one that I would have him help to waste
His borrow'd purse.-Well, Jessica, go in;
Perhaps, I will return immediately;

Do as I bid you,

Shut doors after you: Fast bind, fast find;

A proverb never stale in thrifty mind.

[Exit.

Jes. Farewell; and if my fortune be not cross'd,

I have a father, you a daughter, lost.

[Exit.

SCENE VI.-The same.

Enter GRATIANO and SALARINO, masqued. Gra. This is the pent-house, under which Lorenzo Desir'd us to make a stand.

His hour is almost past.

Salar.
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!

a Patch. The domestic fool was sometimes called a patch; and it is probable that this class was thus named from the patched dress of their vocation. Patch thus came to be an expression of contempt.

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.
How like a younger, or a prodigal,

The scarfed barka puts from her native bay,
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind!
How like a prodigal doth she return;
With over-weather'd ribs, and ragged sails,
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind!

Enter LORENZO.

Salar. Here comes Lorenzo ;-more of this hereafter. 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?

Enter JESSICA, above, in boy's clothes.

Jes. Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty, Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue. Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love.

Jes. 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.

Jes. Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains. I am glad 't is 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;

a Scarfed bark-the vessel gay with streamers

For if they could, Cupid himself would blush
To see me thus transformed to a boy.

Lor. Descend, for you must be my torchbearer. Jes. What, must I hold a candle to my shames? They in themselves, good sooth, are too too light. Why, 't is an office of discovery, love;

And I should be obscur'd.

Lor.

So you are, sweet, Even in the lovely garnish of a boy.

But come at once;

For the close night doth play the runaway,
And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast.

Jes. 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 prov'd herself;
And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true,
Shall she be placed in my constant soul.

Enter JESSICA, below.

What, art thou come ?-On, gentlemen, away; Our masquing mates by this time for us stay. [Exit, with JEs. and SALAR.

Enter ANTONIO.

Ant. Who's there?

Gra. Signior Antonio?

Ant. Fie, fie, Gratiano! where are all the rest? "T is nine o'clock: our friends all stay for you: No masque to-night; the wind is come about; Bassanio presently will go aboard:

I have sent twenty out to seek for you.

Gra. I am glad on 't; I desire no more delight Than to be under sail and gone to-night.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VII.-Belmont. A Room in Portia's

House.

Flourish of Cornets. Enter PoRTIA, with the PRINCE
OF MOROCCO, and both their Trains.

Por. Go, 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 the 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 threatens: 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 :
And yet to be afeard of my deserving
Were but a weak disabling of myself.

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.
The Hyrcanian deserts, and the vasty wilds
Of wide Arabia, are as through-fares now,
For princes to come view fair Portia :
The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head
Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar
To stop the foreign spirits; but they come,
As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia.

One of these three contains her heavenly picture.

Is 't like that lead contains her? "T were damna

tion

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 tried gold?
O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem

Was set in worse than gold. They have in England
A coin that bears the figure of an angel
Stamped in gold; but that's insculp'd upon;
But here an angel in a golden bed

Lies all within.-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.