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THE

MERCHANT

O F

VENICE.

DUKE of Venice.

Morochius, a Moorish Prince.
Prince of Arragon.

Anthonio, the Merchant of Venice.
Baffanio, his Friend.

Salanio,

Solarino,

Friends to Anthonio and Baffanio.

Gratiano,

Lorenzo, in Love with Jeffica.

Shylock, a Jew.

Tubal, a Jew.

Launcelot,. a Clown, Servant to the Jew.

Gobbo. Father to Launcelot,

Leonardo, Servant to Baffanio.

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Senators of Venice, Officers, Jailer, Servants and other Attendants.

SCENE, partly at Venice; and partly at Belmont, the Seat of Portia.

*In the old Editions in 4to for J. Roberts 1600, and in the old folio 1623, 1632, or 1664, there is no enumeration of the perfons.

The Variations are felected from

I. The excellent History of the Merchant of Venice, with the extreme cruelty of Shylock the

Jew in cutting a juft pound of his flesh, and the obtaining of Portia by the choice of three cafkets. Written by W. Shake· Spear. Printed by J. Roberts Itoo. 4to.

II. Folio 1623.
III. Folio 1632.
IV. Folio 1664.

THE

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I

A C T I.

SCENE I.

A Street in Venice.

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 ftuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn—

And fuch a want-wit fadnefs makes of me,
That I have much ado to know my felf.

Sal. Your mind is toffing on the ocean;
There, where your Argofies with portly Sail,
Like figniors and rich burghers on the flood,
Or as it were the pageants of the Sea,
Do over-peer the petty traffickers,

That curtfie to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.

I

Argofie, a fhip from Argo. POPE. Whether it be derived from Argo I am in doubt. It was a name

VOL. I.

given in our authour's time to fhips of great burden, probably Galleons, fuch as the Spaniards now ufe in the Weft-India trade. Sola.

C c

Sola. Believe me, Sir, had I fuch venture forth, The better part of my affections would

2

Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
Plucking the grafs, to know where fits the wind;
Peering in maps for ports, and piers, and roads.
And every object, that might make me fear
Misfortune to my ventures, cut 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 fee the fandy hour-glass run,
But I fhould think of fhallows and of flats;
And fee my wealthy Andrew dock'd in fand,
Vailing her high top lower than her ribs,
To kifs her burial. Should I go to church,
And fee the holy edifice of ftone,

*

And not bethink me ftrait of dang'rous rocks!
Which, touching but my gentle veffel's fide,
Would scatter all the fpices 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 fuch a thing, bechanc'd, would make me fad?
But tell not me; I know, Anthonio

Is fad to think upon his merchandize.

Antho. 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 eftate
Upon the fortune of this prefent year:
Therefore, my merchandize makes me not fad.

2 Plucking the grafs, &c.] By holding up the grafs, or any light body that will bend by a gentle blaft, the direction of the wind is found.

This way I used in shooting.

Betwixt the markes was an open place, there I toke a fethere, or a yttle lighte graffe, and so learned how the wind flood. ASCHAM. * The name of the fhip.

Sela.

Sola. Why then you are in love.

Anth. Fie, fie!

3

Sola. Not in love neither! then, let' fay, you're fad,
Because you are not merry; and 'twere as easy
For you to laugh and leap, and fay, you're merry,
Because you are not fad. Now by two-headed Janus,
Nature hath fram'd ftrange fellows in her time :
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,
And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper;
And others of fuch vinegar-afpect,

That they'll not show their teeth in way of fmile, "
Though Neftor fwear, the jeft be laughable.

Enter Baffanio, Lorenzo and Gratiano.

Sal. Here comes Baffanio, your most noble kinfman, Gratiano and Lorenzo. Fare

ye

well;

We leave you now with better company.

Sola. I would have ftaid '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.

Ball. Good Signiors both, when fhall we laugh? fay when?

You grow exceeding ftrange; muft it be fo?

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

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