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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, Slubber2 not 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 With some delight or other. Salar.

Do we so. (Exeunt. (1) Conversed.

To slubber is to do a thing carelessly. (3) Shows, tokens. (4) The heaviness he is fond of,

SCENE IX.--Belmont. A room in Portia's

house. Enter Nerissa, with a servant. Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee, draw the cur

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

gon, 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,
Immediately to leave you and be gone.

Por. To these injunctions every one doth swear, That comes to hazard for my worthless self.

Ar. And so have I address'di me: Fortune now To my heart's hope !–Gold, silver, and base lead. Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath: You shall look fairer, ere I give, or hazard. What says the golden chest? ha! let me see :Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire. What many men desire.- That many may be meant By the fool multitude, that choose by show, Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach; Which pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet, Builds in the weather on the outward wall, Even in the force2 and road of casualty. I will not choose what many men desire, Because I will not jump3 with common spirits, And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.

(1) Prepared. (2) Power. (3) Agree with.

Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house; Tell me once more what title thou dost bear: Who chooseth me, shall gét as much as he deserves ; And well said too: For who shall

go

about To cozen fortune, and be honourable Without the stamp of merit! Let none presume To wear an undeserved dignity. O, that estates, degrees, and offices, Were not deriv'd corruptly! and that clear honour Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer! How many then should cover, that stand bare? How many be commanded, that command? How much low peasantry would then be glean'd From the true seed of honour? and how much honour Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times, To be new varnish'd? Well, but to my choice: Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves ; I will assume desert;--Give me a key for this, And instantly unlock my fortunes here. Por. Too long a pause for that which you find

there. Ar. What's here? the portrait of a blinking idiot, Presenting me a schedule? I will read it. How much unlike art thou to Portia? How much unlike my hopes, and my deservings? Who chooseth me, shall have as much as he deserves. Did I deserve no more than a fool's head? Is that my prize? are my deserts no better?

Por. To offend, and judge, are distinct offices,
And of opposed natures.
Ar.

What is here?
The fire seven times tried this ;
Seven times tried that judgment is,
That did never choose amiss :
Some there be, that shadows kiss ;
Such have brut a shadow's bliss :
There be fools alive, I wis,
Silver'd o'er; and so was this.

(1) Know.

Take what wife you will to bed,
I will ever be your head :
So begone, sir, you are sped.
Still more fool I shall appear
By the time I linger here :
With one fool's head I came to woo,
But I go away with two.--
Sweet, adieu! I'll keep my oath,
Patiently to bear my wroth.

[Exeunt Arragon, and train.
Por. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth.
O these deliberate fools! when they do choose,
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose.

Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy ;-
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
Por. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa.

Enter a Servant.
Serv. Where is my lady?
Por.

Here ; what would my lord ?
Serv. Madam, there is alighted at your gate
A

young Venetian, one that comes before To signify the approaching of his lord : From whom he bringeth sensible regreets;! To wit, besides commends, and courteous breath, Gifts of rich value; yet I have not seen So likely an embassador of love : A day in April never came so sweet, To show how costly summer was at hand, As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord.

Por. No more, I pray thee; I am half afeard, Thou wilt say anon, he is some kin to thee, Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him.-Come, come, Nerissa ; for Í long to see Quick Cupid's post, that comes so mannerly. Ner. Bassanio, lord love, if thy will it be!

(Exeunt.

(1) Salutations.

ACT III. SCENE I.--Venice. A street. Enter Salanio,

and Salarino. Salan, Now, what news on the Rialto?

Salar. Why, yet it lives there uncheck'd, that Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wreck'd on the narrow seas; the Goodwins, I think they call the place; a very dangerous flat, and fatal, where the carcases of many a tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossip report be an honest woman of her word.

Salan. I would she were as lying a gossip in that, as ever knapp'd ginger, or made her neighbours believe she wept for the death of a third husband : But it is true, --without any slips of prolixity, or crossing the plain high-way of talk,--that the good Antonio, the honest Antonio, that I had a title good enough to keep his name company

Salar. Come, the full stop.

Salan. Ha-what say'st thou ?-Why the end is, he hath lost a ship.

Salar. I would it might prove the end of his losses !

Salan. Let me say amen betimes, lest the devil, cross my prayer; for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew.

Enter Shylock. How now, Shylock ? what news among the merchants? Shy. You knew, none so well, none so well as

my daughter's fight. Salar. That's certain ; 1, for my part, knew the tailor that made the wings she few withal.

Salan. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was fledg’d; and then it is the complexion of them all to leave the dam.

Shy. She is damn'd for it.
Salar. That's certain, if the devil may be her

judge.

you, of

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