Array MyBooks Classics - The Complete Works of William Shakespeare - Illustrated edition (37 plays, 160 sonnets and 5 Poetry Books With Active Table of Contents)

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.

[Reads.]

“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 you 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.

Por.

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, unpractic’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.

Bass.

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!

Ner.

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!

Gra.

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 honors mean to solemnize

The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you

Even at that time I may be married too.

Bass.

With all my heart, so thou canst 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 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.

Por.

Is this true, Nerissa?

Ner.

Madam, it is, so you stand pleas’d withal.

Bass.

And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith?

Gra.

Yes, faith, my lord.

Bass.

Our feast shall be much honored in your marriage.

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 stake down.

But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel?

What, and my old Venetian friend Salerio?

Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salerio, a messenger from Venice.

Bass.

Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither,

If that the youth of my new int’rest here

Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave,

I bid my very friends and countrymen,

Sweet Portia, welcome.

Por.

So do I, my lord,

They are entirely welcome.

Lor.

I thank your honor. For my part, my lord,

My purpose was not to have seen you here,

But meeting with Salerio by the way,

He did entreat me, past all saying nay,

To come with him along.

Sal.

I did, my lord,

And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio

Commends him to you.

[Gives Bassanio a letter.]

Bass.

Ere I ope his letter,

I pray you tell me how my good friend doth.

Sal.

Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind,

Nor well, unless in mind. His letter there

Will show you his estate.

[Bassanio] open the letter.

Gra.

Nerissa, cheer yond stranger, bid her welcome.

Your hand, Salerio. What’s the news from Venice?

How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio?

I know he will be glad of our success;

We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece.

Sal.

I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost.

Por.

There are some shrowd contents in yond same paper

That steals the color from Bassanio’s cheek—

Some dear friend dead, else nothing in the world

Could turn so much the constitution

Of any constant man. What, worse and worse!

With leave, Bassanio, I am half yourself,

And I must freely have the half of any thing

That this same paper brings you.

Bass.

O sweet Portia,

Here are a few of the unpleasant’st words

That ever blotted paper! Gentle lady,

When I did first impart my love to you,

I freely told you all the wealth I had

Ran in my veins: I was a gentleman;

And then I told you true. And yet, dear lady,

Rating myself at nothing, you shall see

How much I was a braggart: when I told you

My state was nothing, I should then have told you

That I was worse than nothing; for indeed

I have engag’d myself to a dear friend,

Engag’d my friend to his mere enemy,

To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady,

The paper as the body of my friend,

And every word in it a gaping wound

Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio?

Hath all his ventures fail’d? What, not one hit?

From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England,

From Lisbon, Barbary, and India,

And not one vessel scape the dreadful touch

Of merchant-marring rocks?

Sal.

Not one, my lord.

Besides, it should appear, that if he had

The present money to discharge the Jew,

He would not take it. Never did I know

A creature that did bear the shape of man

So keen and greedy to confound a man.