Portia

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.  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 Morocco's fiery heart grew cold:
 For in that gorgeous dress of beaten gold
 Which is more golden than the golden sun,
 No woman Veronesé looked upon
 Was half so fair as thou whom I behold.
 Yet fairer when with wisdom as your shield
 The sober-suited lawyer's gown you donned  


 And would not let the laws of Venice yield
 Antonio's heart to that accursèd Jew-
 O Portia! take my heart: it is thy due:
 I think I will not quarrel with the Bond.

© Oscar Wilde