Sal. His hour is almoft paft.

Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, For lovers ever run before the clock.

Sal. O, ten times fafter Venus' Widgeons fly To feal 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 fits down?
Where is the horse, that doth untread again

His tedious measures with th' unbated fire,
That he did pace them firft? all things that are,
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd.
How like a younker, or a prodigal,

The skarfed bark puts from her native bay,
Hugg'd and embraced by the ftrumpet wind!
How like the prodigal doth the return,
With over-weather'd ribs and ragged fails,
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the ftrumpet wind!

Enter Lorenzo.

Sal. 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; come, approach;
Here dwells my father Jew. Hoa, who's within ?

Jeffica above, in boy's clothes.

Jef. Who are you? tell me for more certainty, Albeit I'll fwear, that I do know your tongue. Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love.

Jef. Lorenzo certain, and my love, indeed; For who love I fo much? and now who knows, But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours?

Lor. Heav'n and thy thoughts are witnefs, that thou art.

Jef. Here catch this cafket, it is worth the pains.

I'm 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 fee
The pretty follies that themselves commit;
For if they could, Cupid himself would blush
To fee me thus transformed to a boy.

Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. Jef. What must I hold a candle to my fhames? They in themselves, goodfooth, are too, too, light. Why, 'tis an office of difcovery, love, And I fhould be obscur'd.

Lor. So are you, sweet,

Ev'n 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.

Jef. I will make faft the doors, and gild myfelf
With fome more ducats, and be with you ftrait.
[Exit from above.
Gra. Now by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew.
Lor. Befhrew me, but I love her heartily;
For fhe is wife, if I can judge of her;
And fair fhe is, if that mine eyes be true;
And true fhe is, as fhe hath prov'd herself;
And therefore like herself, wife, fair, and true,
Shall fhe be placed in my constant soul.

Enter Jeffica, to them.

What, art thou come? on, gentlemen, away;
Our mafquing mates by this time for us ftay. [Exit.

Enter Anthonio.

Anth. Who's there?

Gra. Signior Anthonio,

Anth. Fie, Gratiano, where are all the reft? 'Tis nine o'clock, our friends all stay for you; No mafque to night; the wind is come about,

Baf

Baffanio prefently will go aboard;

I have fent twenty out to feck for you.

Gra. I'm glad on't; I defire no more delight Than to be under fail, and gone to night. [Exeunt.

SCENE VIII.

Changes to Belmont.

Enter Portia with Morochius, and both their trains.

Por.

O, draw afide the curtains, and discover

Gi

The fev'ral calkets to this noble Prince. Now make your choice. [Three cafkets are difcover'd. Mor. The firft of gold, which this infcription bears, Who chufeth me, fhall gain what many men defire. The fecond filver, which this promife carries, Who chufeth me, fhall get as much as he deferves. This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt, Who chufeth me, must give and hazard all he hath. How fhall I know, if I do chufe the right?

Por. The one of them contains my picture, Prince; If you chufe that, then I am yours withal.

Mor. Some God direct my judgment! let me see,
I will furvey th' infcriptions back again;
What fays this leaden cafket?

Who chufeth me, must give and hazard all he hath.
Muft give, for what? for lead? hazard for lead?
This cafket threatens. Men, that hazard all,
Do it in hope of fair advantages:

A golden mind ftoops not to shows of drofs;
I'll then not give, nor hazard, aught for lead.
What fays the filver, with her virgin hue?
Who chufeth me, fhall get as much as he deferves.
As much as he deferves? pause there, Morochius;
And weigh thy value with an even hand.
If thou be'ft rated by thy eftimation,
Thou doft deserve enough; and yet enough
May not extend fo far as to the lady;

And

And yet to be afraid of my deferving,
Were but a weak difabling of myself.

As much as I deferve -why, that's the lady:
I do in birth deferve her, and in fortunes,
In graces, and in qualities of breeding:
But more than these, in love I do deserve.
What if I ftray'd no farther, but chose here?
Let's fee once more this faying grav'd in gold.
Who chufeth me, fhall gain what many men defire.
Why, that's the lady; all the world defires her;
From the four corners of the earth they come
To kifs the fhrine, this mortal breathing faint.
Th' Hyrcanian deferts, and the vafty wilds
Of wide Arabia, are as thorough-fares now,
For Princes to come view fair Portia.
The wat'ry kingdom, whose ambitious head
Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar
To ftop the foreign fpirits; but they come,
As o'er a brook, to fee fair Portia.

One of these three contains her heav'nly picture.
Is't like, that lead contains her? 'twere damnation,
To think fo base a thought: it were too grofs
To rib her fearcloth in the obscure grave.
Or fhall I think, in filver fhe's immur'd,
Being ten times undervalu'd to try'd gold?
O finful thought, never fo rich a gem

Was fet in worfe than gold! they have in England
A coin, that bears the figure of an angel
Stamped in gold, but that's infculpt upon:
But here an angel in a golden bed

Lies all within. Deliver me the key;
Here do I chufe, and thrive I as I may !

Por. There take it, Prince, and if my form lie

there,

Then I am yours.

[Unlocking the gold casket.

Mor. O hell! what have we here? a carrion death, Within whofe empty eye there is a scrowl: I'll read the writing,

All

All that glifters is not gold,
Often have you heard that told;
Many a man his life hath fold,
But my outfide to behold.
Gilded wood may worms infold:
Had you been as wife as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgment old,
Your anfwer had not been infcrol'd;
Fare you well, your fuit is cold.

Mor. Cold, indeed, and labour loft:
Then farewel, heat; and welcome, froft:
Portia, adieu! I have too griev'd a heart
To take a tedious leave: thus lofers part.

[Exit.

Por. A gentle riddance: draw the curtains; go—

Let all of his complexion chufe me fo.

[Exeunt.

IX.

Sal.

SCENE

Changes to Venice.

Enter Solarino and Salanio.

W with him is Gratiano gone along;

HY, man, I faw Baffanio under fail;

And in their ship, I'm sure, Lorenzo is not.

Sola. The villain Jew with outcries rais'd the Duke, Who went with him to fearch Bassanio's fhip.

Sal. He came too late, the ship was under fail;
But there the Duke was given to understand,
That in a Gondola were feen together
Lorenzo and his am'rous Jeffica:

Befides, Anthonio certify'd the Duke,
They were not with Baffanio in his ship.
Sola. I never heard a paffion fo confus'd,
So ftrange, outrageous, and so variable,
As the dog Jew did utter in the streets;
My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter,

Fled