ACT I SCENE II | Belmont. A room in PORTIA'S house. | |
[Enter PORTIA and NERISSA] |
PORTIA | By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of |
| this great world. |
NERISSA | You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in |
| the same abundance as your good fortunes are: and |
| yet, for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit |
| with too much as they that starve with nothing. It |
| is no mean happiness therefore, to be seated in the |
| mean: superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but |
| competency lives longer. | 10 |
PORTIA | Good sentences and well pronounced. |
NERISSA | They would be better, if well followed. |
PORTIA | If to do were as easy as to know what were good to |
| do, chapels had been churches and poor men's |
| cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that |
| follows his own instructions: I can easier teach |
| twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the |
| twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may |
| devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps |
| o'er a cold decree: such a hare is madness the | 20 |
| youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the |
| cripple. But this reasoning is not in the fashion to |
| choose me a husband. O me, the word 'choose!' I may |
| neither choose whom I would nor refuse whom I |
| dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curbed |
| by the will of a dead father. Is it not hard, |
| Nerissa, that I cannot choose one nor refuse none? |
NERISSA | Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men at their | 30 |
| death have good inspirations: therefore the lottery, |
| that he hath devised in these three chests of gold, |
| silver and lead, whereof who chooses his meaning |
| chooses you, will, no doubt, never be chosen by any |
| rightly but one who shall rightly love. But what |
| warmth is there in your affection towards any of |
| these princely suitors that are already come? |
PORTIA | I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou namest |
| them, I will describe them; and, according to my | 40 |
| description, level at my affection. |
NERISSA | First, there is the Neapolitan prince. |
PORTIA | Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but |
| talk of his horse; and he makes it a great |
| appropriation to his own good parts, that he can |
| shoe him himself. I am much afeard my lady his |
| mother played false with a smith. |
NERISSA | Then there is the County Palatine. |
PORTIA | He doth nothing but frown, as who should say 'If you | 50 |
| will not have me, choose:' he hears merry tales and |
| smiles not: I fear he will prove the weeping |
| philosopher when he grows old, being so full of |
| unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had rather be |
| married to a death's-head with a bone in his mouth
|
| than to either of these. God defend me from these |
| two! |
NERISSA | How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon? |
PORTIA | God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man. |
| In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker: but, | 60 |
| he! why, he hath a horse better than the |
| Neapolitan's, a better bad habit of frowning than |
| the Count Palatine; he is every man in no man; if a |
| throstle sing, he falls straight a capering: he will |
| fence with his own shadow: if I should marry him, I |
| should marry twenty husbands. If he would despise me |
| I would forgive him, for if he love me to madness, I |
| shall never requite him. | 70 |
NERISSA | What say you, then, to Falconbridge, the young baron |
| of England? |
PORTIA | You know I say nothing to him, for he understands |
| not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latin, French, |
| nor Italian, and you will come into the court and |
| swear that I have a poor pennyworth in the English. |
| He is a proper man's picture, but, alas, who can |
| converse with a dumb-show? How oddly he is suited! |
| I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round |
| hose in France, his bonnet in Germany and his | 80 |
| behavior every where. |
NERISSA | What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour? |
PORTIA | That he hath a neighbourly charity in him, for he |
| borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman and |
| swore he would pay him again when he was able: I |
| think the Frenchman became his surety and sealed |
| under for another. |
NERISSA | How like you the young German, the Duke of Saxony's nephew? | 90 |
PORTIA | Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober, and |
| most vilely in the afternoon, when he is drunk: when |
| he is best, he is a little worse than a man, and |
| when he is worst, he is little better than a beast: |
| and the worst fall that ever fell, I hope I shall |
| make shift to go without him. |
NERISSA | If he should offer to choose, and choose the right |
| casket, you should refuse to perform your father's |
| will, if you should refuse to accept him. | 100 |
PORTIA | Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, set a |
| deep glass of rhenish wine on the contrary casket, |
| for if the devil be within and that temptation |
| without, I know he will choose it. I will do any |
| thing, Nerissa, ere I'll be married to a sponge. |
NERISSA | You need not fear, lady, the having any of these |
| lords: they have acquainted me with their | 110 |
| determinations; which is, indeed, to return to their |
| home and to trouble you with no more suit, unless |
| you may be won by some other sort than your father's |
| imposition depending on the caskets. |
PORTIA | If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as |
| chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner |
| of my father's will. I am glad this parcel of wooers |
| are so reasonable, for there is not one among them |
| but I dote on his very absence, and I pray God grant | 120 |
| them a fair departure. |
NERISSA | Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a |
| Venetian, a scholar and a soldier, that came hither |
| in company of the Marquis of Montferrat? |
PORTIA | Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, he was so called. |
NERISSA | True, madam: he, of all the men that ever my foolish |
| eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady. | 130 |
PORTIA | I remember him well, and I remember him worthy of |
| thy praise. |
[Enter a Serving-man] |
| How now! what news? |
Servant | The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take |
| their leave: and there is a forerunner come from a |
| fifth, the Prince of Morocco, who brings word the |
| prince his master will be here to-night. | 139 |
PORTIA | If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good a |
| heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I should |
| be glad of his approach: if he have the condition |
| of a saint and the complexion of a devil, I had |
| rather he should shrive me than wive me. Come, |
| Nerissa. Sirrah, go before. |
| Whiles we shut the gates |
| upon one wooer, another knocks at the door. |
[Exeunt] |