Act II
SCENE I.
Belmont. A room in PORTIAâS house.
Flourish of cornets. Enter the PRINCE OF MOROCCO and his train; PORTIA, NERISSA, and others attending
MOROCCO
Mislike me not for my complexion,
The shadowâd livery of the burnishâd sun,
To whom I am a neighbour and near bred.
Bring me the fairest creature northward born,
Where Phoebusâ fire scarce thaws the icicles,
And let us make incision for your love,
To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine.
I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine
Hath fearâd the valiant: by my love I swear
The best-regarded virgins of our clime
Have loved it too: I would not change this hue,
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen.
PORTIA
In terms of choice I am not solely led
By nice direction of a maidenâs eyes;
Besides, the lottery of my destiny
Bars me the right of voluntary choosing:
But if my father had not scanted me
And hedged me by his wit, to yield myself
His wife who wins me by that means I told you,
Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair
As any comer I have lookâd on yet
For my affection.
MOROCCO
Even for that I thank you:
Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets
To try my fortune. By this scimitar
That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,
I would outstare the sternest eyes that look,
Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth,
Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear,
Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey,
To win thee, lady. But, alas the while!
If Hercules and Lichas play at dice
Which is the better man, the greater throw
May turn by fortune from the weaker hand:
So is Alcides beaten by his page;
And so may I, blind fortune leading me,
Miss that which one unworthier may attain,
And die with grieving.
PORTIA
You must take your chance,
And either not attempt to choose at all
Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong
Never to speak to lady afterward
In way of marriage: therefore be advised.
MOROCCO
Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my chance.
PORTIA
First, forward to the temple: after dinner
Your hazard shall be made.
MOROCCO
Good fortune then!
To make me blest or cursedâst among men.
Cornets, and exeunt
SCENE II.
Venice. A street.
Enter LAUNCELOT
LAUNCELOT
Certainly my conscience will serve me to run from
this Jew my master. The fiend is at mine elbow and
tempts me saying to me âGobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good
Launcelot,â or âgood Gobbo,â or good Launcelot
Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away. My
conscience says âNo; take heed,â honest Launcelot;
take heed, honest Gobbo, or, as aforesaid, âhonest
Launcelot Gobbo; do not run; scorn running with thy
heels.â Well, the most courageous fiend bids me
pack: âVia!â says the fiend; âaway!â says the
fiend; âfor the heavens, rouse up a brave mind,â
says the fiend, âand run.â Well, my conscience,
hanging about the neck of my heart, says very wisely
to me âMy honest friend Launcelot, being an honest
manâs son,â or rather an honest womanâs son; for,
indeed, my father did something smack, something
grow to, he had a kind of taste; well, my conscience
says âLauncelot, budge not.â âBudge,â says the
fiend. âBudge not,â says my conscience.
âConscience,â say I, âyou counsel well;â âFiend,â
say I, âyou counsel well:â to be ruled by my
conscience, I should stay with the Jew my master,
who, God bless the mark, is a kind of devil; and, to
run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the
fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the devil
himself. Certainly the Jew is the very devil
incarnai; and, in my conscience, my conscience is
but a kind of hard conscience, to offer to counsel
me to stay with the Jew. The fiend gives the more
friendly counsel: I will run, fiend; my heels are
at yo...