THE

MERCHANT OF VENICE.

ACT I. SCENE I.

Enter Anthonio, Solarino, and Salanio.

ANTHONI O.

N footh, I know not why I am so sad :
It wearies me; you fay, it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn-

And fuch a wantwit fadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.

Sal. Your mind is toffing on the ocean;
There where your argofies with portly fail,
Like figniors and rich burghers on the flood,
Or as it were the pageants of the fea,
Do overpeer the petty traffickers

That court'fy to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.

Sola. Believe me, fir, had I fuch ventures forth,

The better part of my affections would

Be with my hopes aboard. I fhould be still
Plucking the grafs, to know where fits the wind,
Prying in maps for ports, and piers, and roads;

A 3

And

And every object that might make me fear
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt,
Would make me fad.

Sal. My wind, cooling my broth,

Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great might do at sea.
I should not see the fandy hourglass run,
But I fhould think of fhallows, and of flats,
And see my wealthy arg'fy dock'd in fand,
Vailing her high top lower than her ribs,
To kifs her burial. Should I go to church,
And see the holy edifice of stone,

And not bethink me ftraight of dang'rous rocks?
Which, touching but my gentle veffel's fide,
Would scatter all the spices on the stream;
Enrobe the roaring waters with my filks;
And, in a word, but even now worth this,
And now worth nothing. Shall I have the thought
To think on this, and fhall I lack the thought,
That such a thing, bechanc'd, would make me fad?
But, tell not me; I know, Anthonio

Is fad to think upon his merchandize.

Anth. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it, My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,

Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate

Upon the fortune of this present year :

Therefore my merchandize makes me not sad.
Sola. Why, then you are in love.

Anth. Fie, fie, away!

Sola. Not in love neither! then let's fay you're fad,
Because you are not merry; 'twere as eafy

For you to laugh, and leap, and fay, you're merry,
'Cause you're not fad. Now, by twoheaded Janus,
Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time:
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,
And laugh like parrots at a bagpiper ;

And

And others of fuch vinegar afpect,

That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,
Though Neftor fwear the jest be laughable.

Enter Baffanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano.

Sal. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, Gratiano, and Lorenzo: fare ye well;

We leave you now with better company.

Sola. I would have stay'd till I had made you merry, If worthier friends had not prevented me.

Anth. Your worth is very dear in my regard:

I take it, your own business calls on you,

And you embrace th' occafion to depart.

Sal. Good morrow, my good lords.

Baff. Good figniors both, when fhall we laugh? fay, when? You grow exceeding ftrange; must it be fo?

Sal. We'll make our leifures to attend on yours.

Sola. My lord Bassanio, fince you've found Anthonio,
We two will leave you; but, at dinner-time,

I pray you, have in mind where we must meet.
Baff. I will not fail you.

[Exeunt Solar. and Sala.

Gra. You look not well, fignior Anthonio;
You have too much respect upon the world:
They lose it, that do buy it with much care.
Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd.

Anth. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano,
A ftage, where every man must play his part;
And mine's a fad one.

Gra. Let me play the fool

With mirth and laughter; fo let wrinkles come;
And let my liver rather heat with wine,
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,
Sit like his grandfire cut in alabafter?

Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice.
By being peevish? I tell thee what, Anthonio,,

(I love.

(I love thee, and it is my love that speaks:)
There are a fort of men, whose visages

Do cream, and mantle, like a standing pond,
And do a wilful ftilness entertain,

With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit,
As who should fay, I am fir Oracle,
And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!
O my Anthonio, I do know of thofe,
That therefore only are reputed wife,

For faying nothing; who, I am very fure,

If they should speak, would almost damn thofe ears,
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers, fools.*
I'll tell thee more of this another time:

But fifh not with this melancholy bait,

For this fool's gudgeon, this opinion.

Come, good Lorenzo; fare well a while;

ye

I'll end my exhortation after dinner.

Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner-time. I must be one of these fame dumb wife men;

For Gratiano never lets me speak.

Gra. Well, keep me company but two years more,
Thou shalt not know the found of thine own tongue.
Anth. Fare well; I'll grow a talker for this gear.
Gra. Thanks, faith; for filence is only commendable
In a neats tongue dry'd, and a maid not vendible.

[Exeunt Grat. and Lor.

Anth. Is that any thing now? Baff. Gratiano fpeaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice: his reafons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; you shall feek all day ere you find them; and, when you have them, they are not worth the fearch. Anth. Well; tell me now, what lady is this fame,

To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,

Alluding to what is faid in the gospel, that whofoever shall say to his brother, thou fool, shall be in danger of hell-fire.

That

That you to-day promis'd to tell me of?

Baff. 'Tis not unknown to you, Anthonio,
How much I have difabled mine eftate,
By showing something a more swelling port
Than my faint means would grant continuance :
Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd
From such a noble rate; but my chief care
Is, to come fairly off from the great debts,
Wherein my time, fomething too prodigal,
Hath left me gag'd: to you, Anthonio,
I owe the most in money, and in love;
And from your love I have a warranty
T'unburden all my plots, and purposes,
How to get clear of all the debts I owe.

Anth. I pray you, good Baffanio, let me know it;
And, if it stand, as you yourself still do,
Within the eye of honour, be affur'd,
My purse, my perfon, my extremeft means
Lie all unlock'd to your occafions.

Baff. In my fchooldays, when I had loft one shaft,
I fhot his fellow of the felfsame flight

The felfsame way, with more advised watch,
To find the other, forth; by vent'ring both,
I oft found both. I urge this childhood proof,
Because what follows is pure innocence.
I owe you much; and, like a wilful youth,
That which I owe is loft: but if you please
To fhoot another arrow that felf way

Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,
As I will watch the aim, or to find both,

Or bring your latter hazard back again,

And thankfully reft debtor for the first.

Anth. You know me well, and herein spend but time

To wind about my love with circumftance;

And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong,
In making question of my uttermoft,

VOL. II.

B

Than