I marvel not Bassanio was so bold To peril all he had upon the lead, Or that proud Aragon bent low his head Or that Moroccoโs fiery heart grew cold: For in that gorgeous dress of beaten gold Which is more golden than the golden sun No woman Veronese looked upon Was half so fair as thou whom I behold. Yet fairer when with wisdom as your shield The sober-suited lawyerโs gown you donned, And would not let the laws of Venice yield Antonioโs heart to that accursed Jewโ O Portia! take my heart: it is thy due: I think I will not quarrel with the Bond.