« AnteriorContinuar »
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
Tell me, where is fancy bred,
Or in the heart, or in the head ?
How begot, how nourished ?
It is engenderd 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 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,
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 scull 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 threat'nest than dost promise aught,
Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence',
And here choose I. Joy be the consequence!
Por. 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!
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
“ 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.
" In measure Rain thy joy ;] The 4to. by Roberts reads,“ range thy joy.” It may reasonably be doubted whether we ought to read “ rain,” or rein : the old spelling, raine, is quite equivocal.
2 And leave itself UNFURNISH'D:) Thus all the old editions; but Steevens doubted if Shakespeare's word were not unfinish'd; but “ unfurnish'd” would seem to refer to the other eye in the “counterfeit,” or portrait, the one the painter had completed not being furnished with a fellow.
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
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 nothing *; which, to term in gross,
Is an unlesson'd girl, unschoold, 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
3 You see me, lord Bassanio, where I stand,] The folio alone has, “ You see, my lord Bassanio, where I stand."
• Is sum of NOTHING ;] Portia is undervaluing herself, in comparison with what she would be for “ Bassanio's sake. Our text is that of the folio : the quartos both read," Is sum of something.”
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'. 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
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 :
0! 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 ladý,
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.
Bass. With all my heart, so thou can'st get a wife.
Gra. I thank your lordship, you have got me one. My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours :
• Are yours, my LORD :) So the folio and Roberts's 4to : that of Heyes has “ Are yours, my lords," which may possibly be the true reading, taking lords as the genitive case, lord's.
- being Blert together,) i. e. Biended.