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They hnve o'erlook'd me, and divided me;
One half of me is yours ; th' other half yours,
Mine own, I would say: but if mine, then yours;
And so all yours. Alas! these naughty times
Put bars between the owners and their rights :
And so though yours, not yours. — Prove it so,
Let fortune go to hell for it--Not I.
I speak too long, but 'tis to piece the time,
To eke it, and to draw it out in length,
To stay you from election.

Bass. Let me chuse:
For as I am, I live upon the rack.

Por. Upon the rack, Bassanio? then confess,
What treason there is mingied with your love :

BASs. None, but that ugly treason of mistrust, Which makes me fear th' enjoying of my love : There may as well be amity and life "Tween (now and fire, as treason and my love.

Por. Ay, but I fear, you speak upon the rack; Where men enforced do speak any thing.

Bass. Promise me life, and I'll confefs the truth.
Por. Well then, confess and live.

Bass. Confess and love,
Had been the very sum of my confeffion.
O happy torment, when my torturer
Doth teach me answers for deliverance !
But let me to my fortune and the caskets.

Por Away then! I am lockt in one of them ;
If you do love me, you will find me out.
Neriffa, and the rest, stand all aloof,
Let musick found, while he doth make his choice :
Then, if he lose, he makes a fwan-like end,

Pading in musick. That the comparison
May stand more just, my eye shall be the stream
And wat’ry death-bed for him.-He may win:
And what is musick then ? then musick is
Even as the flourish, when true subjects bow
To a new-crowned monarch: such it is,
As are those dulcet sounds in break of day,
That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear,
And summon him to marriage. Now he goes,
With no less presence, but with much more love,
Than young Alcides, when he did redeem
The virgin-tribute, paid by howling Troy
To the sea-monster; I stand for sacrifice,
The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives,
With bleared visages come forth to view
The issue of th' exploit. Go, Hercules !
Live thou, I live-With much, much more dismay
I view the fight, than thou, that mak'st the fray.

[Musick within. A song, whilft Bassanio, comments on the caskets to himself.

Tell me, where is fancy bred,
In the heart, or in the head?

How begot, how nourished ?
Reply.

It is engender'd in the eyes
With gazing fed, and fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies :
Let us all ring fancy's knell.
I'll begin it. Ding, dong, bell.

All, Ding, dong, bell.
Bass. 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 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 searcht, 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 fnaky 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 fepulchre,
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore
To a most dang’rous sea; the beauteous scarf
Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word,
The seeming 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,

Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence ;
And here chuse I. Joy be the consequence !

Por. How all the other paffion's 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 blefling, make it less,
For fear I surfeit...

[Opening the leaden casket.
Bass. What find I here?
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 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' intrap 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 pow'r to steal both his,
And leave itself unfurnish'd. Yet how far
The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow
In underprising it; fo far this shadow
Doth limp behind the substance. Here's the scrowl,
The continent and summary of my fortune.

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,

s or no;

Turn you where your lady is, .

And claim her with a loving kiss.
A gentle scrowl-Fair lady, by your leave- (Kifling her.
I come by note to give, and to receive.
Like one of two contending in a prize,
That thinks he has done well in people's eyes ;
Hearing applause and universal shout,
Giddy in spirit, gazing still in doubt,
Whether those peals of praise be his or no;
So (thrice-fair lady) stand I, even fo,
As doubtful whether what I see be true,
Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratify'd by you.

Por. You fee me, lord Baffanio, where I stand,
Such as I am. Tho' 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, to stand high in your account,
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,
Exceed account: but the full sum of me
Is some of something, which, to term in gross,
Is an unleffon'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd;
Happy in this, she is not yet fo old
But she may learn; and 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 manfon, master of my fervants,

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