The Illustrated Works of Shakespeare/Illustrated Works of Shakespeare, The (1990)(Animated Pixels)[!][CDTV-PC].iso/shakes/text/17/03_02

Text File | 1991-04-10 | 15KB | 396 lines

Belmont. A Room in Portia's House.
 Enter BASSANIO, PORTIA, GRATIANO, NERISSA, and all their TRAINS.

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'erlooked 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
    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 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 enforcd 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 locked 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 wat'ry 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-crownd 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 bleard 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 the whilst BASSANIO comments on the caskets to himself.

A Servant            Tell me where is fancy bred,
            Or in the heart or in the head?
            How begot, how nourishd?
                Reply, reply.
            It is engendered 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 deceived with ornament.
    In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt
    But, being seasoned with a gracious voice,
    Obscures the show of evil? In religion,
    What damnd 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 searched, have livers white as milk?
    And these assume but valour's excrement
    To render them redoubted. Look on beauty
    And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight,
    Which therein works a miracle in nature,
    Making them lightest that wear most of it;
    So are those crispd snaky golden locks,
    Which make such wanton gambols with the wind
    Upon supposd fairness, often known
    To be the dowry of a second head,
    The skull that bred them in the sepulchre.
    Thus ornament is but the guild 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 paleness 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-embraced despair,
    And shudd'ring fear, and green-eyed 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?
                                            [He opens the leaden casket.
    Fair Portia's counterfeit! What demigod
    Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes?
    Or whether, riding on the balls of mine,
    Seem they in motion? Here are severed 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 unfurnished; 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 pleased 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 confirmed, signed, 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 unlessoned girl, unschooled, unpractisd;
    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 belovd prince, there doth appear
    Among the buzzing pleasd multitude,
    Where every something being blent together,
    Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy
    Expressed, and not expressed. 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 loved, I loved: 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
    Achieved her mistress.

Portia                            Is this true, Nerissa?

Nerissa    Madam, it is, so you stand pleased 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.

      Enter LORENZO, JESSICA, and SALERIO, a messenger from Venice.

    But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel?
    What, and my old Venetian friend Salerio?

Bassanio    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.

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 Salerio by the way,
    He did entreat me, past all saying nay,
    To come with him along.

Salerio                                    I did, my lord,
    And I have reason for it. Signor 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.

Salerio    Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind,
    Nor well, unless in mind; his letter there
    Will show you his estate.
                                [BASSANIO opens and reads the letter.

Gratiano    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.

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

Portia    There are some shrewd contents in yond same paper,
    That steals 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 engaged myself to a dear friend,
    Engaged 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 failed? 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?

Salerio                                    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-conditioned 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    [Reads.]    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 cleared 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.