SCENE changes to Belmont.

Three Cafkets are fet out, one of gold, another of filver, and another of lead.

Por.

B

Enter Portia and Neriffa.

Y my troth, Neriffa, my little body is weary of this great world.

Ner. You would be, fweet madam, if your miseries were in the fame abundance as your good fortunes are; and yet, for ought I fee, they are as fick, that furfeit with too much, as they that ftarve with nothing; therefore it is no mean happinefs to be feated in the mean; fuperfluity comes fooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer.

Por. Good fentences, and well pronounc'd.

Ner. They would be better, if well follow'd.

Por. If to do, were as eafy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches; and poor mens cottages, Princes palaces. He is a good divine, that follows his own inftructions; I can easier teach. twenty (3) what were good to be done, than to be one of the twenty to follow my own teaching. The brain may deyife laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree; fuch a hare is madness the youth, to fkip o'er the meshes of good counfel the cripple! But this reafoning is not in fashion to chufe me a husband: O me, the word, chufe! I may neither chuse whom I would, nor refufe whom I diflike; fo is the

(3) I can easier teach twenty] This reflection of Portia has very much the caft of one in Philemon, the Greek comic poet, and contem porary with Menander.

Αλλῳ ποιῶνι βάδιον παραινέσαι

Ἔσιν, ποιῆσαι δ ̓ αὑτὸν ἐχὶ ῥάδιον.

It is eafy to advise another under a difficulty; not so easy to follow what one is able to advife. I dare not pretend, therefore, that our author imitated this fentiment; for in moral axioms, particularly, allowing an equality of Genius, writers of all times and countries may happen to Arike out the fame thought.

will of a living daughter curb'd by the will of a dead Neriffa, that I cannot chufe

father is it not hard, one, nor refuse none ? Ner. Your father was ever virtuous, and holy men at their death have good infpirations; therefore, the lottery, that he hath devised in these three chefts of gold, filver, and lead, (whereof who chufes his meaning, chufes you) will no doubt never be chofen by any rightly, but one whom you fhall rightly love. But what warmth is there in your affection towards any of thefe princely futors, that are already come?

Por. I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou nam'ft them, I will defcribe them; and according to my defcription, level at my affection.

Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan Prince.

Por. Ay, that's a Dolt, indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse; (4) and he makes it a great appropriation to his own gocd parts, that he can shoe him himfelf; I am much afraid, my lady, his mother, play'd false with a smith.

Ner. Then, there is the Count Palatine.

Por. He doth nothing but frown, as who should say, if you will not have me, chufe: he hears merry tales, and fmiles not; I fear, he will prove the weeping philofopher when he grows old, being fo full of unmannerly fadness in his youth. I had rather be married to a death's head with a bone in his mouth, than to either of these. God defend me from these two!

(4) Ay, that's a Colt, indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his bore;] Tho' all the editions agree in this reading, I can perceive neither humour, nor reasoning, in it: How does talking of horses, or knowing how to fhoe them, make a man e'er the more a Colt? Or, if a Smith and a Lady of figure were to have an affair together, would a Colt be the iffue of their careffes? This feems to me to be Portia's meaning. What do you tell me of the Neapolitan Prince ? be is fuch a stupid dunce, that inftead of faying fine things to me, he does ething but talk of bis borfes. The word, Dolt, which I have fubftituted, fully anfwers this idea; and fignifies one of the most flupid and blockifh of the vulgar: and in this acceptation it is used by our author, particularly, in the following paffage of Othello.

Oh, Gull! oh, Dolt!

As ignorant as Dirt!

Ner. How fay you by the French Lord, Mounfieur Le Boun ?

Por. God made him, and therefore let him pafs for a man; in truth, I know, it is a fin to be a mocker; but he! why, he hath a horfe better than the Neapolitan's; a better bad habit of frowning than the Count Palatine; he is every man in no man; if a throfile fing, he falls ftrait a capering; he will fence with his own fhadow; if I should marry him, I fhould marry twenty hufbands. If he would defpife me, I would forgive him; for if he love me to madness, I fhall never requite him.

Ner. What fay you then to Faulconbridge, the young Baron of England?

Por. You know I fay nothing to him, for he underftands not me, nor I him; he hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian; and you may come into the court and fwear, that I have a poor pennyworth in the Englih. He is a proper man's picture, but alas! who can converfe with a dumb fhow? how odly he is fuited! I think, he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour every where.

Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour? (5)

Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him ; for he borrow'd a box of the ear of the Englishman, and swore he would pay him again, when he was able. I think the Frenchman became his furety, and fealed under for another. (6)

Ner.

(5) of the Scottish lord, his neighbour?] Thus the old 4to's and thus the poet certainly wrote. Mr. Pope takes notice of a various reading; (viz. What think you of the other lord. -which is in the

firft Folio;) but has not accounted for the reafon of it, which was this. Our author exhibited this play in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, when there was no occafion for any reftraint in fatirizing the Scotch. But upon the acceffion of King James the Firft, the Union taking place, and the court fwarming with people of that nation, the players, thro' a fear of giving difguft, thought fit to make this change.

(6) I think, the Frenchman became bis furety, and feal'd under for anther.] This was a fevere farcafm on the French nation; and, no VOL. II.

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doubt,

Ner. How like you the young German, the Duke of Saxony's nephew?

Por. Very vilely in the morning when he is fober, - and most vilely in the afternoon when he is drùnk; when he is beft, he is a little worse than a man; and when he is worft, he is little better than a beaft; and the worst fall that ever fell, I hope, I shall make shift to go without him.

Ner. If he fhould offer to chufe, and chufe the right cafket, you fhould refufe to perform your father's will, if you should refufe to accept him.

Por. Therefore, for fear of the worft, I pray thee, fet a deep glafs of Rhenish wine on the contrary cafket; for if the devil be within, and that temptation without, I know, he will chufe it. I will do any thing, Nerifja, ere I will be marry'd to a fpunge.

Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of thefe lords they have acquainted me with their determinations, which is, indeed, to return to their home, ard to trouble you with no more fuit; unless you may be won by fome other fort than your father's impofition depending on the cafkets..

Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as chafte as Diana, unless I be obtain'd by the manner of my father's will: I am glad, this parcel of wooers are fo reasonable; for there is not one among them but I doat on his very abfence, and with them a fair departure.

Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a Venetian, a fcholar, and a foldier, that came hither in company of the Marquifs of Mountferrat ?

Por. Yes, yes, it was Baffanio, as I think, he was fo call'd.

Ner. True, madam; he, of all the men that ever my foolish eyes look'd upon, was the best deserving a fair lady. doubt, a very pleafing one to the audiences, when this play was first brought on. To make the Frenchman, jointly with the Scot, take a box on the ear at the Englishman's hands, is very humoroufly, and fatirically, alluding to the conflant affiftance the French always used to give the Scots in their quarrels with the English, both in and before our author's time: and in which alliance, they generally came by the worst of it. Mr. Warburton.

Por.

Por. I remember him well, and I remember him worthy of thy praife. How now ? what news?

Enter a Servant.

Ser. The four ftrangers feek for you, madam, to take their leave; and there is a fore-runner come from a fifth, the Prince of Morocco, who brings word the Prince, his mafter, will be here to-night.

Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with fo good heart as I can bid the other four farewel, I should be glad of his approach; if he have the condition of a faint, and the complexion of a devil, I had rather he fhould fhrive me, than wive me. Come, Neria. Sirrah, go before; while we fhut the gate upon one wooer, another knocks at the door.

[Exeunt.

SCENE, a publick Place in VENICE.

Enter Baffanio and Shylock.

Hree thousand ducats? well.

Shy Baf. Ay, Sir, for three months.

Shy. For three months? well.

Baf. For the which, as I told you, Anthonio fhall be bound.

Shy. Anthonio fhall become bound? well.

Baff. May you ftead me? will you pleasure me? fhall I know your answer?

Shy. Three thousand ducats for three months, and Anthonio bound?

Baff. Your anfwer to that.

Shy. Anthonia is a good man.

Baff. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary ? Shy. No, no, no, no; my meaning, in faying he is a good man, is to have you understand me, that he is fufficient: yet his means are in fuppofition: he hath an Argofy bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies; I understand moreover upon the Ryalto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England; and other ventures he hath fquander'd abroad. But fhips are but boards, failors but men; there be land-rats, and water-rats,

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water