PORTIA
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_Written at the Lyceum Theatre_) I MARVEL not Bassanio was so boldTo peril all he had upon the lead,Or that proud Aragon bent low his headOr that Morocco’s fiery heart grew cold:For in that gorgeous dress of beaten goldWhich is more golden than the golden sunNo woman Veronesé looked uponWas half so fair as thou whom I behold.Yet fairer when with wisdom as your shieldThe sober-suited lawyer’s gown you donned,And would not let the laws of Venice yieldAntonio’s heart to that accursèd Jew—O Portia! take my heart: it is thy due:I think I will not quarrel with the Bond.
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