get as much as he deserves.”
I will assume desert. Give me a key for this,
And instantly unlock my fortunes here.
[He unlocks the silver casket.]
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?
[Reads.]
“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, iwis,
Silver’d o’er, and so was this.
Take what wife you will to bed,
I will ever be your head.
So be gone, 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.
[Exit with his 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 Messenger.
Mess.
Where is my lady?
Por.
Here; what would my lord?
Mess.
Madam, there is alighted at your gate
A young Venetian, one that comes before
To signify th’ 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 I long to see
Quick Cupid’s post that comes so mannerly.
Ner.
Bassanio, Lord Love, if thy will it be!
Exeunt.
¶
ACT III
[Scene I]
[Enter] Solanio and Salerio.
Sol. Now what news on the Rialto?
Sal. Why, yet it lives there uncheck’d that Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wrack’d on the Narrow Seas; the Goodwins I think they call the place, a very dangerous flat, and fatal, where the carcasses of many a tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossip Report be an honest woman of her word.
Sol. I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever knapp’d ginger or made her neighbors believe she wept for the death of a third husband. But it is true, without any slips of prolixity, or crossing the plain highway of talk, that the good Antonio, the honest Antonio—O that I had a title good enough to keep his name company!—
Sal. Come, the full stop.
Sol. Ha, what sayest thou? Why, the end is, he hath lost a ship.
Sal. I would it might prove the end of his losses.
Sol. 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 you, of my daughter’s flight.
