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DUKE of Venice.
Morochius, a Moorish Prince,? „ . „ ".
Prince of Arragon, t Su,ttrs *' Portla
Anthonio, the Merchant of Venice.
Bassanio, his Friend, in Love with Portia.
Solarino, > Friends to Anthonio and Bassanio.
Lorenzo, in love with Jeffica.
Shylock, a Jew.
Tubal, a Jew, bit Friend.
Launceloc, a Clsivn, Servant to the Jew.
Gobbo, an old Man, Father to Launceloc.
Leonardo, Servant to Bassanio. . .-.
SepS } Servants to Forth.
Portia, an Heiress of great Quality and Fortune.
Senators ^Venice, Officers, Jailer, Servants and other Attendants,
SCENE, partlyat Venice ; and partly at Belmont, the Seat of Fain upon the Continent.
A C T I.
Enter Anthonio, Solarino, and Salanio.
N sooth, I know not why I am so sad:
I am to learn
And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.
Sal. Your mind is tossing on the ocean;
Sola. Believe me, Sir, had I such venture forth,
Sal. My wind, cooling my broth,
What What harm a wind too great might do at sea.
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
.But I should think of shallows and of flats;
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand,
Vailing her high top lower than her ribs,
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church.
And see the holy edifice of stone,
And not bethink me straight of dang'rous rocks?
Which, touching but my gentle vessel's side;
Would scatter all the spices on the stream,
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks;
And in a word, but even now worth this,
And now worth nothing. Shall I have the thought
To think on this, and shall I lack the thought,
That such a thing, bechanc'd, would make me sad r
But tell not me; I know, Anthonia
Is sad to think upon his merchandize.
Anth. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it,
Sola. Not in love neither! then let's fay, you're fad.
Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo and Gratiano, Sal. Here comes Bassanio: your most noble kinsman, Gratiano and Lorenzo: fare ye well; We leave ye now with better company. .
Sola. I would have staid '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' occasion to depart.
Sal. Good morrow, my good lords.
Bass. Good Signiors both, when shall we laugh ? say, when? You grow exceeding strange; most it be so?
Sal. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours.
Sola. My lord Bassanio, since you've found Antonio, We two toll leave you; but at dinner-time, I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. . Bass. I will not fail you. [Exeunt Solar, and SaLu
Gra. You look not well, Signior Antonio ;
Anth. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano,
Gra. Let me play the fool: . .
A 4 I'll