Chapter: SCENE 2.

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 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 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.]

 At her house in Belmont, Portia pleads with Bassanio and reveals her preference for him. She asks him to hang out with her for a month or two before he takes the casket test, as she'd rather have him around for a while before he's forced to leave her company if he makes the wrong choice. She carefully says her feeling isn't love, but also she wouldn't have such feelings if she hated him. Portia quibbles on what's just, given her father's will. She'd like to teach Bassanio how to interpret the challenge so he'll choose the right casket, but that would be breaking her oath. Of course, if he makes the wrong choice, she'll sin anyway by wishing she had broken her oath. Portia does some more fawning and swooning over Bassanio, and he simply replies that he'd like to take the test now, as all this waiting around is like being on the rack . Portia plays along and asks what treason Bassanio has committed that he deserves the rack. Bassanio clarifies quickly: he says he's guilty of mistrust--he is fearful to love Portia fully now, as he can't trust that he'll be around much longer after the casket test. Still, he says, there's nothing off or untrue about his love for her. Bassanio then decides he's had enough beating around the bush. He confesses that he loves Portia dearly, though actually it's the torture type of love. Bassanio finally gets to pick a casket. Portia has everyone back off so he can choose in peace. She insists that music be played, so if he goes out, he can do it like a swan, but if he stays, then they've already got music playing for their party. How nice! Portia then compares Bassanio to Hercules . She says Bassanio goes with no less presence but far more love than Hercules did when he had to rescue the virgin paid as tribute by Troy to a sea monster. Portia says she herself is the sacrifice, while everyone else is like a Trojan wife, standing around to see the show. Portia says if Bassanio outlives this test, then she will live again. While Bassanio is reasoning to himself about the caskets, there's a bit of a song about how one comes to fancy someone and whether that fancying is about the heart or the head. Once the musical interlude concludes, Bassanio lays out his reasoning, just as the other suitors have done. Bassanio begins by saying he knows that what's on the outside is often deceptive about what's inside. Bassanio proceeds to list off a couple of instances where there are tricky ornaments that might convince you a bad thing was actually a good thing. Bassanio does some more philosophizing, adding beauty to the list of transient ills. Women can wear makeup, and who wears most is the least prized. Ultimately, beauty is usually veiled, and outer beauty can hide inward ugliness. Using all this reasoning, Bassanio makes his choice. He dismisses the gold casket as the gaudy food of Midas that proved inedible, and the silver as the paler of the two metals that are both made base as coins of money. That leaves him the lead casket, which he admits is threatening, but moves him more with its paleness than the eloquence of the other two precious metal caskets. He hopes he's right and Portia, knowing he's made the right choice, is secretly flipping out with joy. All of her other passions have given way to love, and she now worries she feels the emotion in excess. She pleads with love to make itself felt moderately, as she worries she'll have too much of it at this rate. Meanwhile, Bassanio has opened the lead casket and found Portia's portrait. He waxes on about how beautiful the picture is, but then reprimands himself for praising the picture, which is only a shadow of the real woman's beauty. He then reads the scroll inside, which congratulates him for choosing correctly; though it was chance, the chooser's decision to look beyond what was immediately apparent has rewarded him. The scroll then insists that he kiss his new wife. Bassanio says he's shocked by his victory--right now he feels like a guy who's won a contest and only believes he's won it because everyone else around him is so happy. He's too shocked to believe this could really be happening, so he will only accept it as true once Portia accepts him. Portia, of course, is stoked. She wishes she was better, prettier, and wealthier, so as to further please her new man. Though she admits she lacks experience, she's excited that she's neither too old nor too stupid to learn. She then gives herself over to Bassanio, happily accepting him as "her lord, her governor, her king." She says everything that was hers is now his, including her mansion, her servants, and herself. She gives him a ring to signify their new union and says that if he loses it or gives it away, it's as good as ruining their love. Bassanio, again, claims he's too stricken by all of these new developments to say anything meaningful. He adds that his feelings are like the cheering of a crowd after a good prince's speech: nothing distinct can be heard, but all joy is expressed without any specific expression. He declares that if the ring ever leaves his finger, he might as well be proclaimed dead. Then Nerissa speaks up and congratulates them. Graziano adds his two cents, namely "Great, you're married. Now can I marry Nerissa?" Graziano explains that while Bassanio was focused on Portia, the lady he was focused on is Nerissa, the lady's lady. He's made his mouth dry from so much swearing of love. Bassanio and Portia confirm with Graziano and Nerissa respectively that their love is all set, and lo and behold, two weddings are planned in one scene. Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salerio show up in Belmont. They're welcomed by everyone, but sadly, Salerio brings bad news. He hands Bassanio a letter from Antonio. Portia notes that as Bassanio reads the letter he grows pale and horrified--she's sure that its contents declare the death of a dear friend, as nothing else could provide cause for a man like Bassanio to suddenly look such a mess. She insists that Bassanio tell her what's in the letter, as she is now half of him and should share his grief as well as his joy. Bassanio now has to admit the whole truth: he says he told Portia the truth when he said he was a gentleman by blood only, not by wealth. Even that, though, was stretching it, as not only did he have nothing, but he had bet his friend Antonio's life to get what little he needed to woo her. The letter from Antonio declares that all of his ventures, to every port, have failed. Salerio says that things are even worse than they seem. It looks like even if Antonio had the money to pay back the debt, Shylock would insist on the original terms of the agreement for a pound of Antonio's flesh, money be damned. Salerio says he's never seen a more greedy and inhuman man than Shylock, who has been bothering the Duke morning and night about the fact that justice must be served. The tale continues: twenty merchants and the Duke himself have tried to reason with Shylock, but he's not hearing any of it. He wants justice for Antonio's breaking the agreement, and justice means he gets to carve Antonio up like a roasted turkey. Jessica confirms this story, and says it looks like curtains for dear Antonio. Portia asks if all of this means Bassanio's friend is in trouble, and her husband-to-be confirms that Antonio, his dearest friend in the world, as noble as the ancient Romans, is screwed for 3,000 ducats. Portia offers to pay off Antonio's debt twenty times over; no harm should come to Antonio because he is a friend of her new man. Still, though, she'd like to get something done first--Bassanio should go to church with her so they can get married. Then he can go to Venice to take care of other business. She says she and Nerissa will live like widows and virgins until everything in Venice is resolved. Still, she instructs Bassanio to have a good time with his buddies who have just shown up. Done with all her directions, she tells Bassanio to read her Antonio's letter. In the letter, Antonio basically says, "I'm screwed, and I owe Shylock my life, which he'll have. Please come and visit me before I die, since I'm sacrificing my life for you. Love, Antonio." Portia then instructs Bassanio to go as soon as he's done his business in Belmont. Bassanio says he'll go, but he won't rest while they're apart.

