Продолжаю обожать финансовые метафоры в любовных дискурсах. Елизаветинцы, суки, умели, не хуже последующих метафизиков. Здесь правда в чисто финансовый conceit вплетается не пойми что, но очень человеческое.
Portia: You see my Lord Bassiano where I stand, Such as I am; though for my selfe alone I would not be ambitious in my wish, To wish my selfe much better, yet for you, I would be trebled twenty times my selfe, A thousand times more faire, ten thousand times More rich, that onely to stand high in your account, I might in vertues, beauties, liuings, friends, Exceed account: but the full summe of me Is sum of nothing: which to terme in grosse, Is an vnlessoned girle, vnschool'd, vnpractiz'd, Happy in this, she is not yet so old But she may learne: happier then this, Shee is not bred so dull but she can learne; Happiest of all, is that her gentle spirit Commits it selfe to yours to be directed, As from her Lord, her Gouernour, her King. My selfe, and what is mine, to you and yours Is now conuerted.