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.

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 inscrold :

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.

SCENE VIII.

Venice. A street.

Enter Salarino and Salanio.

Salar. Why man, I saw Bassanio under sail ;
With him is Gratiano gone along;
And in their ship, I am sure, Lorenzo is not.

Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship,

Salar. He came too late, the ship was under sail : But there the duke was given to understand, That in a gondola were seen together Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica : Besides, Antonio certify'd the duke, They were not with Bassanio in his ship.

Salan. I never heard a passion so confus’d, So strange, outrageous, and so variable, As the dog Jew did utter in the streets : My daughter !-O my ducats !-O my daughter ! Fled with a Christian? - my Christian ducats !Justice ! the law ! my ducats, and my daughter ! A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats, Of double ducats, stoln from me by my daughter ! And jewels; two stones, two rich and precious stones, Stol'n by my daughter !-Justice! find the girl ! She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats !

Salar. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him, Crying,-his stones, his daughter, and his ducats.

Salan. Let good Antonio look he keep his day, Or he shall pay for this. Salar.

Marry, well remember'd : I reason'd* with a Frenchman yesterday; Who told me, in the narrow seas, that part The French and English, there miscarried A vessel of our country, richly fraught: I thought upon Antonio, when he told me; And wish'd in silence that it were not his. Salan. You were best to tell Antonio what you

hear; Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him.

Salar. A kinder gentleman treads not the earth. I saw Bassanio and Antonio part: Bassanio told him he would make some speed Of his return; he answer'd-Do not so, Slubber not t business for my sake, Bassanio, But stay the very riping of the time ; And for the Jew's bond, which he hath of me,

Let it not enter in your mind of love :
Be merry, and employ your chiefest thoughts
To courtship, and such fair ostents* of love
As shall conveniently become you there :
And even there, his eye being big with tears,
Turning his face, he put his hand behind him,
And with affection wondrous sensible
He wrung Bassanio's hand, and so they parted.

Salan. I think he only loves the world for him.
I pray thee let us go, and find him out,
And quicken his embraced heaviness t
With some delight or other.
Salar.

Do we so.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IX.

Belmont. A room in Portia's house.

Enter Nerissa, with a servant. Ner. Quick, quiek, I pray thee, draw the curtain

straight; The prince of Arragon has ta’en his oath, And comes to his election presently. Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Arragon,

Portia, and their trains.
Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble

prince:
If you choose that wherein I am contain'd,
Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemniz'd;
But if you fail, without more speech, my lord,
You must be gone from hence immediately.

Ar. I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things:
First, never to unfold to any one
Which casket 'twas I chose ; next, if I fail
Of the right casket, never in my life
To woo a maid in way of marriage; lastly,
If I do fail in fortune of my choice,
* Shows, tokens.

+ The heaviness he is fond of.