ANTONIO.
Hie thee, gentle Jew.
[Exit Shylock.]
This Hebrew will turn Christian; he grows kind.
BASSANIO.
I like not fair terms and a villain’s mind.
ANTONIO.
Come on; in this there can be no dismay;
My ships come home a month before the day.
[Exeunt.]
ACT II
SCENE I. Belmont. A room in Portia’s house.
Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Morocco, a tawny Moor all in white, and three or four followers accordingly, with Portia, Nerissa and their train.
PRINCE OF MOROCCO.
Mislike me not for my complexion,
The shadowed livery of the burnish’d sun,
To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred.
Bring me the fairest creature northward born,
Where Phœbus’ fire scarce thaws the icicles,
And let us make incision for your love
To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine.
I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine
Hath fear’d the valiant; by my love I swear
The best-regarded virgins of our clime
Have lov’d it too. I would not change this hue,
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen.