Part 12

BASSANIO.

In Belmont is a lady richly left, And she is fair, and fairer than that word, Of wond'rous virtues: sometimes from her eyes I did receive fair speechless messages;

* * * *

and prepares us for Portia's half betrayed, unconscious election of this most graceful and chivalrous admirer--

NERISSA.

Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, that came hither in company of the Marquis of Montferrat?

PORTIA.

Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, so he was called.

NERISSA.

True, madam; he of all the men that ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady.

PORTIA.

I remember him well; and I remember him worthy of thy praise.

Our interest is thus awakened for the lovers from the very first; and what shall be said of the casket-scene with Bassanio, where every line which Portia speaks is so worthy of herself, so full of sentiment and beauty, and poetry and passion? Too naturally frank for disguise, too modest to confess her depth of love while the issue of the trial remains in suspense, the conflict between love and fear, and maidenly dignity, cause the most delicious confusion that ever tinged a woman's cheek, or dropped in broken utterance from her lips.

I pray you, tarry, pause a day or two, Before you hazard; for in choosing wrong, I lose your company; therefore, forbear awhile; 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 you may 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!

The short dialogue between the lovers is exquisite.

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 the 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 any thing.

BASSANIO.

Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth.

PORTIA.

Well then, confess, and live.

BASSANIO.