READ STUDY GUIDE: Act III, scenes i–ii |
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Act III, Scene ii:
Belmont. A room in PORTIA's house.
Belmont. A room in PORTIA's house.
| [Enter BASSANIO, PORTIA, GRATIANO, NERISSA, and Attendants.] |
| PORTIA: |
| I pray you tarry; pause a day or two |
| Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong, |
| I lose your company; therefore forbear a while. |
| There's something tells me, but it is not love, |
| I would not lose you; and you know yourself |
| Hate counsels not in such a quality. |
| But lest you should not understand me well,— |
| And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,— |
| I would detain you here some month or two |
| Before you venture for me. I could teach you |
| How to choose right, but then I am forsworn; |
| So will I never be; so may you miss me; |
| But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin, |
| That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes, |
| They have o'erlook'd me and divided me: |
| One half of me is yours, the other half yours, |
| Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, |
| And so all yours. O! these naughty times |
| Puts 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 peise the time, |
| To eke it, and to draw it out in length, |
| To stay you from election. |
| BASSANIO: |
| Let me choose; |
| For as I am, I live upon the rack. |
| PORTIA: |
| Upon the rack, Bassanio! Then confess |
| What treason there is mingled with your love. |
| BASSANIO: |
| 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 snow and fire as treason and my love. |
| PORTIA: |
| Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack, |
| Where men enforced do speak anything. |
| BASSANIO: |
| Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth. |
| PORTIA: |
| Well then, confess and live. |
| BASSANIO: |
| 'Confess' and 'love' |
| Had been the very sum of my confession: |
| O happy torment, when my torturer |
| Doth teach me answers for deliverance! |
| But let me to my fortune and the caskets. |
| PORTIA: |
| Away, then! I am lock'd in one of them: |
| If you do love me, you will find me out. |
| Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof; |
| Let music sound while he doth make his choice; |
| Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, |
| Fading in music: that the comparison |
| May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream |
| And watery death-bed for him. He may win; |
| And what is music then? Then music 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. |
| [A Song, whilst BASSANIO comments on the caskets to himself.] |
 Tell me where is fancy bred, |
| Or in the heart or in the head, |
| How begot, how nourished? |
| Reply, reply. |
| It is engend'red 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. |
| 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 man and 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 shuddering 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: |
| What find I here?[Opening the leaden casket.] |
| 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; {Kissing her.] |
| 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 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 honour'd 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. |
| But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel? |
| What, and my old Venetian friend, Salanio! |
| [Enter LORENZO, JESSICA, and SALANIO.] |
| BASSANIO: |
| Lorenzo and Salanio, welcome hither, |
| If that the youth of my new interest here |
| Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave, |
| I bid my very friends and countrymen, |
| Sweet Portia, welcome. |
| PORTIA: |
| So do I, my lord; |
| They are entirely welcome. |
| LORENZO: |
| I thank your honour. For my part, my lord, |
| My purpose was not to have seen you here; |
| But meeting with Salanio by the way, |
| He did entreat me, past all saying nay, |
| To come with him along. |
| SALANIO: |
| I did, my lord, |
| And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio |
| Commends him to you. |
| [Gives BASSANIO a letter] |
| BASSANIO: |
| Ere I ope his letter, |
| I pray you tell me how my good friend doth. |
| SALANIO: |
| Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind; |
| Nor well, unless in mind; his letter there |
| Will show you his estate. |
| GRATIANO: |
| Nerissa, cheer yon stranger; bid her welcome. |
| Your hand, Salanio. 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. |
| SALANIO: |
| I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost. |
| PORTIA: |
| There are some shrewd contents in yon same paper. |
| That steal the colour 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 anything |
| That this same paper brings you. |
| BASSANIO: |
| 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, Salanio? |
| 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? |
| SALANIO: |
| 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. |
| He plies the duke at morning and at night, |
| And doth impeach the freedom of the state, |
| If they deny him justice. Twenty merchants, |
| The duke himself, and the magnificoes |
| Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him; |
| But none can drive him from the envious plea |
| Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond. |
| JESSICA: |
| When I was with him, I have heard him swear |
| To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen, |
| That he would rather have Antonio's flesh |
| Than twenty times the value of the sum |
| That he did owe him; and I know, my lord, |
| If law, authority, and power, deny not, |
| It will go hard with poor Antonio. |
| PORTIA: |
| Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble? |
| BASSANIO: |
| The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, |
| The best condition'd and unwearied spirit |
| In doing courtesies; and one in whom |
| The ancient Roman honour more appears |
| Than any that draws breath in Italy. |
| PORTIA: |
| What sum owes he the Jew? |
| BASSANIO: |
| For me, three thousand ducats. |
| PORTIA: |
| What! no more? |
| Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond; |
| Double six thousand, and then treble that, |
| Before a friend of this description |
| Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault. |
| First go with me to church and call me wife, |
| And then away to Venice to your friend; |
| For never shall you lie by Portia's side |
| With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold |
| To pay the petty debt twenty times over: |
| When it is paid, bring your true friend along. |
| My maid Nerissa and myself meantime, |
| Will live as maids and widows. Come, away! |
| For you shall hence upon your wedding day. |
| Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer; |
| Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear. |
| But let me hear the letter of your friend. |
| BASSANIO: |
| 'Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all miscarried, |
| my creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low, my bond to the |
| Jew is forfeit; and since, in paying it, it is impossible I |
| should live, all debts are clear'd between you and I, if I might |
| but see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your pleasure; if |
| your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter.' |
| PORTIA: |
| O love, dispatch all business and be gone! |
| BASSANIO: |
| Since I have your good leave to go away, |
| I will make haste; but, till I come again, |
| No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay, |
| Nor rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. |
| [Exeunt.] |
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