The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare

Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice ;-
Parts, that become thee happily enough,
And in such eyes as ours appear not faults;
But where thou art not known, why, there they show
Something too liberal ;'-pray thee, take pain
To allay with some cold drops of modesty
Thy skipping spirit; lest, through thy wild beha-
viour,

I be misconstrued in the place I go to,
And lose my hopes.

Gra.

Signior Bassanio, hear me:

If I do not put on a sober habit,
Talk with respect, and swear but now and then,
Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely;
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say, amen;
Use all the observance of civility,
Like one wel! studied in a sad ostent2
To please his grandam, never trust me more.
Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing.3

Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night; you shall not

gage me

By what we do to-night.

Bass.

No, that were pity; I would entreat you rather to put on Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends That purpose merriment: But fare you well, I have some business.

[Exeunt.

Gra. And I must to Lorenzo, and the rest; But we will visit you at supper-time. SCENE III.-The same. A room in Shylock's house. Enter Jessica and Launcelot. Jes. I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so; Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil, Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness; But fare thee well; there is a ducat for thee. And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest: Give him this letter; do it secretly, And so farewell; I would not have my father See me talk with thee.

Laun. Adieu!-tears exhibit my tongue.-Most beautiful Pagan,-most sweet Jew! If a Christian do not play the knave, and get thee, I am much deceived: But, adieu! these foolish drops do somewhat drown my manly spirit, adieu!

[Exil.

Jes. Farewell, good Launcelot.Alack, what heinous sin is it in me, To be asham'd to be my father's child! But though I am a daughter to his blood, I am not to his manners: 0 Lorenzo, If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife; Become a Christian, and thy loving wife. SCENE IV.-The same. A street. Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio. Lor. Nay, we will slink away in supper-time; Disguise us at my lodging, and return All in an hour.

[Exit.

Gra. We have not made good preparation. Salar. We have not spoke us yet of torchbearers.

(1) Gross, licentious.

(2) Show of staid and serious demeanour.

Salan. 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order'd;

And better, in my mind, not undertook.

Lor. 'Tis now but four o'clock; we have two hours To furnish us :

Enter Launcelot, with a letter. Friend Launcelot, what's the news?

Laun. An it shall please you to break up this, it shall seem to signify.

Lor. I know the hand: in faith, 'tis a fair hand; And whiter than the paper it writ on, Is the fair hand that writ.

Gra.

Love-news, in faith.

Laun. By your leave, sir.
Lor. Whither goest thou?

Laun. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup to-night with my new master the Christian. Lor. Hold here, take this:-tell gentle Jessica, I will not fail her;-speak it privately; go.Gentlemen, [Exit Launcelot. Will you prepare you for this masque to-night? am provided of a torch-bearer.

Salar. Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it straight. Salan. And so will I.

Lor.

Meet me, and Gratiano,

At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence.
Salar. 'Tis good we do so.

[Exeunt Salar. and Salan.
Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica?
Lor. I must needs tell thee all: She hath directed,
How I shall take her from her father's house;
What gold, and jewels, she is furnish'd with;
What page's suit she hath in readiness.

If e'er the Jew, her father, come to heaven,
It will be for his gentle daughter's sake:
And never dare misfortune cross her foot,
Unless she do it under this excuse,-
That she is issue to a faithless Jew.
Come, go with me; peruse this as thou goest:
Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.-The same. Before Shylock's house.
Enter Shylock and Launcelot.

Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy

judge,

The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio:-
What, Jessica!-thou shalt not gormandize,
As thou hast done with me;-What, Jessica!—
And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out ;—
Why, Jessica, I say!

Laun.
Why, Jessica!
Shy. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call.
Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me, I
could do nothing without bidding.

Enter Jessica.

Jes. Call you? What is your will?

Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica;

There are my keys:-But wherefore should I go;
I am not bid for love; they flatter me:
The prodigal Christian.-Jessica, my girl,
But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon
Look to my house:-I am right loath to go;
There is some ill a brewing towards my rest,
For I did dream of money-bags to-night.

Laun. I beseech you, sir, go; my young master doth expect your reproach.

Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love.

then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a bleed-Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue. ing on Black-Monday last, at six o'clock i'the morning, falling out that year on Ash-Wednesday was four year in the afternoon.

Shy. What are there masques? Hear you me,
Jessica :

Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum,
And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fife,
Clamber not you up to the casements then,
Nor thrust your head into the public street,
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces:
But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements;
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter
My sober house.-By Jacob's staff, I swear,
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 crost, I have a father, you a daughter, lost.

SCENE VI.-The same.

[Exit.

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 asham'd 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 obscur'd.

Lor.

So are you, sweet,
Even in the lovely garnish of a boy.
But come at once;

For the close night doth play the run-away,
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 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; Enter Gratiano and Our masquing mates by this time for us stay.

Salarino, masked.

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

Salar. His hour is almost past. 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!

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 younker, or a prodigal, The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind! How like the 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, (1) Decorated with flags.

[Exit with Jessica and Salarino. Enter Antonio.

have sent twenty out to seek for you.

Exe.

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

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? '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 immur'd,
Being ten times undervalued to try'd 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.

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 inscroll'd
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,

goi
Let all of his complexion choose me so. [Exeunt.
SCENE VIII.-Venice. A street. Enter Sala-
rino 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.

(1) Enclose. (2) Engraven.

(3) Conversed.

To slubber is to do a thing carelessly

Salan. The villain Jew with outcries rais'd 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 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!-0 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, stol'n 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,
Slubbers 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.

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 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:

(5) Shows, tokens.
(6) The heaviness he is fond of.

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;
If I do fail in fortune of my choice,
Immediately to leave you and be gone.

lastly,

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

Ar. And so have I address'd' 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. Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house; Tell me once more what title thou dost bear; Who chooseth me, shall get 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,

;

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;5 To wit, besides commends, and courteous breathy 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 I long to see Quick Cupid's post, that comes so mannerly. Ner. Bassanio, lord love, if thy will it be! [Exeunt.

ACT III.

Were not deriv'd corruptly! and that clear honour SCENE I.-Venice. A street. Enter Salanio,

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 but a shadow's bliss:
There be fools alive, I wis,*.
Silver'd o'er; and so was this.
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.

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

and Salarino.

Salan. Now, what news on the Rialto?

Salar. Why, yet it lives there uncheck'd, that narrow seas; the Goodwins, I think they call the Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wreck'd on 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,-O 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.

Shy. I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood.

Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, Salar. There is more difference between thy flesh one night, fourscore ducats. and hers, than between jet and ivory; more be- Shy. Thou stick'st a dagger in me:-I shall tween your bloods, than there is between red wine never see my gold again: Fourscore ducats at a and rhenish:-But tell us, do you hear whether sitting! fourscore ducats! Antonio have had any loss at sea or no? Tub. There came divers of Antonio's creditors Shy. There I have another bad match: a bank- in my company to Venice, that swear he cannot rupt, a prodigal, who dares scarce show his head on choose but break. the Rialto;-a beggar, that used to come so smug upon the mart;-let him look to his bond: he was wont to call me usurer;-let him look to his bond: he was wont to lend money for a Christian courtesy;-let him look to his bond.

Salar. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his flesh; What's that good for?

Shy. I am very glad of it; I'll plague him; I'll torture him; I am glad of it.

Tub. One of them showed me a ring, that he had of your daughter for a monkey.

Shy. Out upon her! Thou torturest me, Tubal : it was my turquoise; I had it of Leah, when I was a bachelor: I would not have given it for a wilder

Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone.

Shy. To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothingness of monkies. else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered me of half a million; laughed at Shy. Nay, that's true, that's very true; Go, Tumy losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, bal, fee me an officer, bespeak him a fortnight bethwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated fore: will have the heart of him, if he forfeit; mine enemies; and what's his reason? I am a Jew: for were he out of Venice, I can make what merHath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, chandise I will; Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with our synagogue; go, good Tubal; at our synathe same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject gogue, Tubal. [Exeunt. to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and sum- SCENE II.-Belmont. A room in Portia's mer, as a Christian is? if you prick us, do we not house. Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, Nebleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you rissa, and attendants. The caskets are set out. poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, Por. I pray you, tarry; pause a day or two, shall we not revenge? if we are like you in the Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong, rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong I lose your company; therefore, forbear a while: a Christian, what is his humility? revenge; If a There's something tells me (but it is not love,) Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance I would not lose you; and you know yourself, be by Christian example? why, revenge. The Hate counsels not in such a quality: villany you teach me, I will execute; and it shall But lest you should not understand me well go hard, but I will better the instruction.

(And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,)
I would detain you here some month or two,
How to choose right, but then I am forsworn;
Before you venture for me. I could teach you,
But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin
So will I never be: So may you miss me;
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes,
They have o'er-look'd 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.

Let me choose;

For, as I am, I live upon the rack.
Por. Upon the rack, Bassanio? then confess
What treason there is mingled with your love.

Shy. Why there, there, there, there! a diamond I speak too long; but 'tis to peize the time; gone, cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort! To eke it, and to draw it out in length, The curse never fell upon our nation till now; I To stay you from election. never felt it till now:-two thousand ducats in that; Bass. and other precious, precious jewels.-I would, my daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels in her ear! 'would she were hears'd at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin! No news of them ?-Why, so:-and I know not what's spent in the search: Why, thou loss upon loss! the thief gone with so much, and so much to find the thief; and no satisfaction, no revenge: nor no ill luck stirring, but what lights o' my shoulders; no sighs, but o' my breathing; no tears, but o' my shedding.

Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too; Antonio, as I heard in Genoa,

Shy. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck?
Tub. -hath an argosy cast away, coming from
Tripolis.

Shy. I thank God, I thank God:-Is it true? is it true?

Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wreck.

Shy. I thank thee, good Tubal;-Good news, good news: ha! ha!-Where? in Genoa?

Bass. None, but that ugly treason of mistrust,
Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love:
There may as well be amity and life
"Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love.

Por. Ay, but I fear, you speak upon the rack,
Where men enforced do speak any thing.
Bass. Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth.
Por. Well then, confess, and live.
Bass.
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
Por. Away then: I am lock'd in one of them;
If you do love me, you will find me out.-
Nerissa, and the rest, stand all aloof.-

(1) A precious stone.

(2) Delay.

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The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare: Accurately Printed from ..., Band 1