And here choose I. Joy be the consequence!
Portia. (aside).—
How all the other passions fleet[912] to air,
As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embrac’d despair,
And shuddering fear,[913] and green-eyed jealousy!
O love! be moderate;[914] allay thy ecstasy;
In measure rein thy joy; scant this excess.
I feel too much thy blessing; make it less,
For fear I surfeit.
Bassanio.—