Let us all ring fancy's knell.
I'll begin it.
Ding, dong, bell.
All, Ding, dong, bell.
Baff. So may the outward shows be least themselves:
The world is still deceiv'd with Ornament.
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,
But being season'd with a gracious voice,
Obscures the show of evil? in religion,
What damned error, but some sober brow
Will bless it, and approve it with a text,
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?
There is no vice so simple, but affumes
Some mark of virtue on its outward parts.
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false
As stairs of fand, wear yet upon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars;
Who, inward fearcht, have livers white as milk?
And these assume but valour's excrement,
To render them redoubted. Look on beauty,
And you shall see 'tis purchas'd by the weight,
Which therein works a miracle in nature,
Making them lightest, that wear most of it.
So are those crispy snaky golden locks,
Which make such wanton gambols with the wind
Upon fuppofed fairness, often known
To be the dowry of a second head,
The skull, that bred them, in the fepulchre.
Thus Ornament is but the guilty shore
To a most dang'rous sea; the beauteous scarf
Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word,
The feeming truth which cunning times put on
T' entrap the wisest. Then, thou gaudy gold,
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee:
Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge
'Tween man and man: but thou, thou meager lead,
Which rather threatnest, than dost promise aught,
5 Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence;
And here chuse I; joy be the consequence!
Por. How all the other paffions fleet to air,
As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embrac'd defpair,
And shudd'ring fear, and green-ey'd jealoufie.
O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstafie;
In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess,
I feel too much thy blessing, make it less,
For fear I furfeit.
[Opening the leaden casket.
Fair Portia's counterfeit? what Demy-god
Hath come so near creation? move these eyes?
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine,
Seem they in motion? here are fever'd lips
Parted with fugar breath; so sweet a bar
Should funder such sweet friends: here in her hairs
The painter plays the spider, and hath woven
A golden mesh t' intrap the hearts of men,
Faster than gnats in cobwebs: but her eyes,
How could he fee to do them? having made one,
Methinks, it should have power to steal both his,
And leave itself unfinish'd: yet how far
The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow
In underprizing it; fo far this shadow
Doth limp behind the Substance. Here's the scrowl,
The continent and summary of my fortune.
5 Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence; Bassanio is displeas'd at the golden casket for its gawdiness, and the filver one for its paleness; but, what! is he charm'd with the leaden one for having the very fame quality that displeas'd him in the filver? The poet certainly wrote,
Thy Plainness moves me more than eloquence: This characterizes the lead from the filver, which paleness does not, they being both pale. Besides, there is a beauty in the antithesis between plainness and eloquence; between paleness and eloquence none. So it is faid before of the leaden-casket,
This third dull lead, with warning all as blunt.
VOL. II.
You that chuse not by the view,
Chance as fair, and chuse as true :
Since this fortune falls to you,
Be content, and seek no new.
If you be well pleas'd with this,
And hold your fortune for your bliss,
Turn you where your Lady is,
And claim her with a loving kiss.
A gentle scrowl; fair lady, by your leave;
I come by note to give, and to receive.
Like one of two contending in a Prize,
That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes;
Hearing applause and universal shout,
Giddy in fpirit, gazing still in doubt,
Whether those peals of praise be his or no;
So (thrice-fair lady) stand I, even so,
As doubtful whether what I see be true,
Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratify'd by you.
Por. You see me, lord Bassanio, where I stand,
Such as I am; tho' for my felf alone,
I would not be ambitious in my Wish,
To wish my felf much better; yet for you,
I would be trebled twenty times my felf,
A thousand times more fair; ten thousand times
More rich; that, to stand high in your account,
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,
Exceed account: but the full fum of me
• Is some of fomething, which, to term in gross,
Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd:
Happy in this, she is not yet so old
But she may learn; more happy then in this,
She is not bred so dull but she can learn;
6 Is SUM of something, -) We should read, SOME of fome thing, i. e. only a piece or part only of an imperfect account. Which the explains in the following line.
Happiest of all, is, that her gentle spirit
Commits it felf to yours to be directed,
As from her lord, her governor, her King:
My felf, and what is mine, to you and yours
Is now converted. But now I was the Lord
Of this fair manfion, mafter of my servants,
Queen o'er my felf; and even now, but now,
This house, these fervants, and this fame my felf
Are yours, my lord: I give them with this ring,
Which, when you part from, lose or give away,
Let it presage the ruin of your love,
And be my vantage to exclaim on you.
Baff. Madam, you have bereft me of all words,
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins;
And there is such Confufion in my pow'rs,
As, after some oration fairly spoke
By a beloved Prince, there doth appear
Among the buzzing pleased multitude;
Where every fomething, being blent together,
Turns to a wild of nothing, fave of joy
Exprest, and not exprest. But when this ring
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence;
O, then be bold to say, Bassanio's dead.
Ner. My lord and lady, it is now our time,
That have stood by, and seen our wishes profper,
To cry, good joy, good joy, my lord and lady!
Gra. My lord Baffanio, and my gentle lady,
I wish you all the joy that you can with;
For, I am fure, you can wish none from me:
And when your honours mean to folemnize
The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you,
Ev'n at that time I may be married too.
Baff. With all my heart, so thou canft get a wife.
Gra. I thank your lordship, you have got me one.
My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours;
You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid;
" You lov'd, I lov'd; for intermiffion
No more pertains to me, my lord, than you.
Your fortune stood upon the casket there,
And so did mine too, as the matter falls:
For wooing here until I sweat again,
And swearing, till my very roof was dry
With oaths of love; at last, if promise last,
I got a promise of this fair one here,
To have her love, provided that your fortune
Atchiev'd her mistress.
Por. Is this true, Neriffa?
Ner. Madam, it is, so you stand pleas'd withal. Baff. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith? Gra. Yes, faith, my lord.
Baff. Our Feast shall be much honour'd in your
Gra. We'll play with them, the first boy for a thousand Ducats.
Ner. What, and stake down?
Gra. No, we shall ne'er win at that sport, and
But who comes here? Lorenzo and his Infidel?
What, and my old Venetian friend, Salanio?
Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salanio.
Baff. Lorenzo and Salanio, welcome hither;
If that the youth of my new Intereft here
Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave,
I bid my very friends and country-men,
(Sweet Portia) welcome.
Por. So do I, my Lord; they are intirely welcome.
Lor. I thank your honour; for my part, my lord,
My purpose was not to have feen you here;
But meeting with Salanio by the way,
7 A comma here set exactly right, by Mr. Theobald.
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