(To Ellen Terry) 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 Veronese 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 Accursed Jew O Portia! Take My Heart: It Is Thy Due: I Think I Will Not Quarrel With The Bond.