BASSANIO.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 assumes Some mark of virtue on his outward parts.How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars; Who, inward search'd, 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 crisped snaky golden locks Which make such wanton gambols with the wind Upon supposed fairness often known To be the dowry of a second head- The skull that bred them in the sepulchre.Thus ornament is but the guiled shore To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word, The seeming truth which cunning times put on To entrap the wisest.Therefore, thou gaudy gold, Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee; Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge 'Tween manand man; but thou, thou meagre lead, Which rather threaten'st than dost promise aught, Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence, And here choose I.Joy be the consequence! PORTIA.[Aside] How all the other passions fleet to air, As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embrac'd despair, And shudd'ring fear, and green-ey'd jealousy! O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy, In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess! I feel too much thy blessing.Make it less, For fear I surfeit.BASSANIO.[Opening the leaden casket] What find I here? Fair Portia's counterfeit! What demi-god Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes? Or whether riding on the balls of mine Seem they in motion? Here are sever'd lips, Parted with sugar breath; so sweet a bar Should sunder such sweet friends.Here in her hairs The painter plays the spider, and hath woven A golden mesh t' entrap the hearts of men Faster than gnats in cobwebs.But her eyes- How could he see to do them? Having made one, Methinks it should have power to steal both his, And leave itself unfurnish'd.Yet look how far The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow In underprizing it, so far this shadow Doth limp behind the substance.Here's the scroll, The continent and summary of my fortune.'You that choose not by the view, Chance as fair and choose 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 to where your lady is And claim her with a loving kiss.' A gentle scroll.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 spirit, still gazing in a 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, ratified by you.PORTIA.You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand, Such as I am.Though for myself alone I would not be ambitious in my wish To wish myself much better, yet for you I would be trebled twenty times myself, A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich, That only to stand high in your account I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends, Exceed account.But the full sum of me Is sum of something 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; happier than this,She is not bred so dull but she can learn; Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit Commits itself to yours to be directed, As from her lord, her governor, her king.Myself and what is mine to you and yours Is now converted.But now I was the lord Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now, This house, these servants, and this same myself, Are yours- my lord's.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.BASSANIO.Madam, you have bereft me of all words; Only my blood speaks to you in my veins; And there is such confusion in my powers As, after some oration fairly spoke By a beloved prince, there doth appear Among the buzzing pleased multitude, Where every something, being blent together, Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy Express'd and not express'd.But when this ring Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence; O, then be bold to say Bassanio's dead! NERISSA.My lord and lady, it is now our time That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper To cry 'Good joy.' Good joy, my lord and lady! GRATIANO.My Lord Bassanio, and my gentle lady, I wish you all the joy that you can wish, For I am sure you can wish none from me; And, when your honours mean to solemnize The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you Even at that time I may be married too.BASSANIO.With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.GRATIANO.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 intermission No more pertains to me, my lord, than you.Your fortune stood upon the caskets 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 Achiev'd her mistress.PORTIA.Is this true, Nerissa? NERISSA.Madam, it is, so you stand pleas'd withal.BASSANIO.And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith? GRATIANO.Yes, faith, my lord.BASSANIO.Our feast shall be much honoured in your marriage.GRATIANO.We'll play with them: the first boy for a thousand ducats.NERISSA.What, and stake down? GRATIANO.No; we shall ne'er win at that sport, and stake down- Butwho comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel? What, and my old Venetian friend, Salerio!
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