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Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice, Act 3, Scene 2

lynncinnamon
16 hours ago
1 min read

What F

What find I here?

Fair Portia's counterfeit! What demigod

Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes?

Or whether, riding on the balls of mine,

Seem they in motion? here are severed lips,

Parted with sugar breath; so sweet a bar

Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs

The painter plays the spider, and hath woven

A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men

Faster than gnats in cobwebs. But her eyes!

How could he see to do them? Having made one,

Methinks it should have power to steal both his

And leave itself unfurnished.

 
 
 

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