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 borrowed 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 crossed,

I have a father, you a daughter, lost.

[Exit.

SCENE VI. The same.
SALARINO, masked.

Enter GRATIANO and

Gra. This is the pent-house, under which Lorenzo Desired us to make stand.

Salar.

His hour is almost past.

Gra. And it is marvel he outdwells 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!

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 enjoyed.
How like a younker, or a prodigal,
The scarfed bark puts from her native bay,
Hugged and embraced by the strumpet wind!
How like the prodigal doth she return,
With over-weathered ribs, and ragged sails,
Lean, rent, and beggared 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 'tis night, you do not look on me, For I am much ashamed of my exchange; But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit; For, if they could, Cupid himself would blush To see me thus transformed to a boy.

Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. Jes. What, must I hold a candle to my shames? They in themselves, good sooth, are too, too light. Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love;

And I should be obscured.

Lor.

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

But come at once;

For the close night doth play the runaway,

And we are staid 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 proved 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 masking mates by this time for us stay.

[Exit with JESSICA and SALARINO.

Ant. Who's there?

Enter ANTONIO.

Gra. Seignior Antonio?

Ant. Fie, fie, Gratiano! Where are all the rest? 'Tis nine o'clock; our friends all stay for you.No mask 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 strayed no further, but chose here?-
Let's see once more this saying graved 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 throughfares 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? 'Twere damnation,
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 immured,
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 insculped 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.

Mor.

[He unlocks the golden casket. 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 timber do worms infold.
Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgment old,
Your answer had not been inscrolled.
Fare you well; your suit is cold.

Cold, indeed; and labor lost.

Then, farewell, heat; and welcome, frost.

Portia, adieu! I have too grieved a heart

To take a tedious leave; thus losers part.
Por. A gentle riddance.Draw the curtains, go;-
Let all of his complexion choose me so.

[Exit. [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.

Salan. The villain Jew with outcries raised the duke;

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 certified the duke,

They were not with Bassanio in his ship.

Salan. I never heard a passion so confused,
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!-O my Christian ducats!—
Justice! The law! My ducats, and my daughter!
A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats,

Of double ducats, stolen from me by my daughter!
And jewels; two stones, two rich and precious stones,
Stolen by my daughter! Justice!
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 remembered.
I reasoned 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 wished 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.