"A carrion death, within whose empty eye
There is a written scroll? I'll read the writing.
'All that glitters is not gold,
Often have you heard that told;
Many a man his life hath sold,
But my outside to behold;
Gilded tombs do worms infold.
Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgment old
Your answer had not been enscrolled,
Fare you well, your suit is cold.'"
The disappointed black prince says:
"Portia, adieu! I have too grieved a heart
To take a tedious leave; thus lovers part."
Portia exclaims after his exit:
"A gentle riddance; draw the curtains, go
Let all of his complexion choose me so!"
When Shylock returned home, found his house deserted and robbed, he rushed into the street, and cried:
"My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter!
Fled with a Christian? O my Christian ducats!
Justice! the law! my ducats and my daughter!
A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats,
Of double ducats, stolen from me by my daughter!
And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones
Stolen by my daughter! Justice! Find the girl!
She hath the stones upon her and the ducats!"
The frantic raging of the old broken down, soul lacerated Jew, only brought from that Christian audience, laughter, yells, and howling jeers. The mob spirit was there, and the appeal for justice by Shylock fell upon deaf ears and stony hearts.
Portia still holds court for her hand and heart at beautiful "Belmont," setting like an Egyptian Queen in the circling, blooming hills of the blue Adriatic.