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“ Thy mantle good,
" () sisters three, “ What, stain'd with blood?
“ Come, come, to me, Approach, ye furies fell!
“ With hands as pale as milk; « O fates! come, come;
Lay them in gore, “ Cut thread and thruin';
“ Since you have shore “Quail, crush, conclude and quell?!"
“ Witli shears his thread of silk, The. This passion, and the death of a dear friend,
Tongue, not a word:would
“ Come, trusty sword;
“ Thus Thisby ends: « Since lion vile hath here deflower'd my dear: “ Adieu, adieu, adieu.
[Dies. “Which is--10, no-which was the fairest dame, The. Moonshine and lion are left to bury the “ That liv’d, that lov'd, that lik’d, that look'd, dead. " with cheer.
15 Dem. Ay, and wall too. “ Come tears, comfound;
Bot. No, I assure you; the wall is down that “ Out sword, and wound
parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the “ The pap of Pyramus:
epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance', between “Ay, that left pap,
two of our company. “ Where heart doth hop:
20! The. No epilogue, I pray you; for your play « Thus die I, thus, thus, thus.
needs no excuse.
Never excuse; for when the « Now ain I dead,
players are all dead, there needs none 10 be “ Now am I fed;
blamed. Marry, if he that writ it, had play'd " My soul is in the sky:
Pyramus, and liang’d himself in Thisbe's garter, Tongue, lose thy light!
25 it would have been a fine tragedy: and so it is, Moon take thy flight!
truly; and very notably discharg'd. But come, « Now die, die, die, die, die.
your Bergomask: let your epilogue alone. [Dies. Erit Noonshine.
[Here a Dance of Clowns. Dem. No die, but an ace for him; for he is but The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve;
|30 Lovers, to bed ; 'tis almost fairy time. Lys. Less than an ace, man; for he is dead: he I fear, we shall out-sleep the coming morn, is nothing
As much as we this night have overwatch'd. The. With the help of a surgeon he might yet This palpable-gross play hath well beguild recover, and prove an ass.
The heavy gait* of night.-Sweet friends, to bed. Hip. How chance the moonshine is gone, be-35 A fortnight hold we this solemnity, fore Thisbe comes back and finds her lover? In nightly revels, and new jollity. [E.reunt, The. She will find him by star-light.Enter Thisbe.
And the wolf beholds the moon; ramus, which Thisbe, is the belter.
Whilst the heavy plouzhman snores, Lys. She hath spied him already, with those
All with weary task fordone'.
145) Now the wasted brands du glow, Demi And thus she moans, videlicet.
Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud,
Puts the wretch, that lies in woe,
In remembrance of a shroud. " O Pyramus, arise,
Now it is the time of night,
50 That the graves all yaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite, “ Must cover thy sweet eyes.
In the church-way paths to glide “ These lilly brows,
And we fairies, that do run “ This cherry nose,
By the triple Hecate's tram, “ These yellow cowslip cheeks,
55 From the presence of the sun, “ Are gone, are gone:
Following darkness like a dream, “ Lovers, make moan!
Now are trolick; not a mouse “ His eyes were green as leeks.
Shail disturb this hallow'd house: Thrum is the end or extremity of a weaver's warp; it is popularly used for very coarse yarn. * To quell is to murther, to destroy. 3 That is, a dance after the manner of the peasants of Bern gomusco, a country in Italy belonging to the Venetians. * i, e. Passuge, progress. ! i, e. Over
I am sent with broom, before,
the dust behind the door.
5 Ob. Through this house give glimmering light,
By the dead and drowsy tire:
Hop as light as bird from brier;
110 Sing and dance it trippingly. Tit. First, rehearse this song by rote:
To each word a warbling note,
Song and DANCE.
Through this house each fairy stray.
' i. e. portentous.
Despised in nativity,
Make no stay; Meet me all by break of day.
[Exeunt King, Queen, and Train. Puck. If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, (und all is mended)
all. . Give me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends. [Exit.
? i. e. take his way.
MERCIANT OF VENICE .
R E P R E S E N T E D.
DUKE of Venice.
LAUNCELOT, a Clown, Servant to the Jeru. PRINCE of Viorocco.
Gobbo, Father to Launcclot. PRINCE of Arragon.
SALERIO, a Messenger from Venice. ANTHONIO, the Merchant of Venice.
LEONARDO, Sortant to Bussanio. BASSANIO, his friend.
Servants to Portia.
Portia, an Heiress.
NERISSA, Waiting-maid to Portia. SHYLOCK, a Jew.
JESSICA, Daughter to Shylock.
Senators of Venice, Officers, Jailer, Servants, and other Attendants.
Sul. My wind, cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought.
What harm a wind too great might do at sea. Enter Anthonio, Salarino, and Salanio.
li should not see the sandy hour-glass run, Anth. IN sooth, I know not why I am so sad; 5 But I should think of shallows, and of tlats;
It wearies me; you say it wearies you ; And see my wealthy Andrew 2 dock'd in sand, But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, Vailing 'her hightop lower than her ribs, What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church, I am to learn:
And see the holy edihce of stone, And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, 10 And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks! That I have much ado to know myself.
Which touching but my gentle vessel's side, Sal. Your mind is tossing on the ocean: Would scatter all her spices on the stream; There, where your argosies' with portly sail,- Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks; Like signiors and rich burghers on he thood, And, in a word, but even now worth this, Or as it were the pageants of the sea,
15) Ind now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought Do over-peer the petty traffickers,
Tothink on this; and shall I lack the thought, That curtsy to them, do them reverence,
That such a thing, bechanc'd would make me sad? As they tly by them with their woren wings. But, tell not me, I know Anthonio
Sala. Believe me, sir, had I such ventures forth, is sad to think upon his merchandize. The better part of my attections would
Anth. Believe me, no : I thank my fortune for Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind; Nor to one place: nor is my whole estate Prying in maps, for ports, and piers and roads: l'pon the fortune of this present year: And ev'ry object that might make me fear Therefore my merchandize makes me not sad, Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt,
Sala. Why then you are in love? Would make me sad.
Anth. Fie, tie! Ships so named from Ragusa. ? The name of the ship. : To vail, means to put of the hat, to strike sail, to give sign of submission.
Sula. Not in love neither? Then let's say, you (That therefore only are reputed wise, are sad,
For saying nothing ; who, I am very sure, [ears, Because you are not merry: and ’twere as easy they should speak, would almost daino those For you, to laugh, and leap, and say, you are merry, Which, hearing them, would call their brothers Because you arenotsad. Now bytwo-headedJanus, 5 I'll tell thee more of this another time: [tools?. Nature hath fram’d strange tellows in her time: But fish not with this melancholy bait, S me that will everinore peep through their eyes, For this fool's gudgeon, this opinion.And laughi, like parrois, at a bag-piper;
Come, goud Lorenzo ;-Fare ye well, awhile; And other of such vinegar aspect,
I'll end mv exhortation after dinner?. [time. That they !l not shew their teeth in way of smile, 10 Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner. Thougil Nesto, swe r the jest be laugliable. I must be one of these same dumb wise men,
Enier Bussunin, Lorenso, and Gratiuno. For Gratiano never lets me speak. Sul. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble Gra. Weil, keep me company but two years Gratiano, and Lorenzo: fare you well ; [kinsman,
[tongue. We leave you now with better company. 15 Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own
Sua. I would have staid ull Thad made youmerry, Anth. Fare well; l'll grow a talker for this If worthier friends had not prevented me.
[mendable Anth. Your worth is very dear in my regard. Gra. Thanks, i'faith ; for silence is only comI take it, your own business calls on you,
In a neat's tongue dry’d, and a maid not vendible. And you embrace the occasion to depart.
(Exeunt Gra. and Lor. Sal. Good inorrow, my good lords.
Anth. Is that any thing now? Buss. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh: Buss. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of no
thing, more than any man in ali Venice: His reaYou grow exceeding strange; Must it be so? sons are as two grains of wheat bid in two bushels Sal We'll makeour leisures to attend on yours. 25 of chati; you shall seek all day ere you find them; [Ereunt Sal. and Sala.
and when you have them, they are not worth the Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found search. Anthonio,
Anth. Well; tell me now, what lady is the same, We two will leave you; but at dinner-time, To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. 30 That you to-day promis’d to tell me of Buss. I will not fail you.
Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Anthonio, Gru. You look not well, signior Anthonio; How much I have disabled mine estate, You have too much respect upon the world: By something shewing a more swelling port They lose it, that do buy it with much care. Than my faint means would grant continuance : Believe me, you are marvellously changed. 35 Nor do I nowmake moan to be abridg’d
Anth. Ihold theworld but as the world, Gratiano, From such a noble rate; but my chief care A stage, where every man must play a part, Is, to come fairly off from the great debts, And mine a sad one.
Wherein my time, something too prodigal, Gra. Let me play the fool?:
Iath left me gag'd: To you, Anthonio, With mirth and laughte" let old wrinkles come; 40|| owe the most, in money, and in love; And let my liver rather heat with wine,
And froin your love I have a warranty Than iny heart cool with inortifying groans,
To unburtben all my plots, and purposes, Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, How to get clear of all the debts I owe. Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?
Anth. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice 45 And, if it stand, as you yourself still do, By being peevish? I tell thee what, Anthonio,-- Within the eye of honour, be assur’d, I love thee, and it is my love that speaks;
My purse, my person, my extremest means, There are a sort of men whose visages
Lye all unlock'd to your occasions. [shaft, Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond; Buss. In my school-days, when I had lost one And do a wilful stillness entertain,
501 shot his fellow of the self-same fight With purpose to be drest in an opinion
The self-same way, with more advised watch, Oiuisioni, gravity, profound conceit;
To tind the other forth; and by advent'ring both, As who should say, “ I am Sir Oracle,
I oft found both: I urge this childhood proof, “ A. whin hope my lips, let no dog bark!" Because what follows is pure innocence. O, my Anthonio, I do know of these,
owe you much ; and, like a wiltul youth, 1 This alludes to the common comparison of human life to a stage-play. So that he desires his may be the fool's or buffoon's pirt, which was a constant character in the old farces; from whence came the phrase, to play the fool. 2 Our author's meaning is, that sore people are thought wise whilst they keep lenc:-; who, when they open their mouths, are such stupid praters, that the hearers cannot help calling them fools, and so incur the judgment denounced in the gospel. 3 The humour of this consists in itbeing an allusion to the practice of the puritan preachers of those times; who being generally very long and tedious, were olten forced to put oli that part of their serinon called the exhoriation, till alter dinner.
That which I owe is lost : but if you please blood; but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree: To shoot another arrow that self way
such a hare is madness the youth, to skip o'er the Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, meshes of good counsel the cripple. But this reaAs I will watch the aim, or to find both,
soning is not in the fashion to chuse me a husband: Or bring your latter hazard back again, 5-O me, the word chuse! I may neither chuse And thankfully rest debtor for the first. (time, whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike; so is
Anth. You know ine well: and herejn spend but the will of a living daughter curb'd by the will of
10 Ner. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy Than if you had made waste of all I have: men, at their death, have good inspirations; Then do but say to me what I should do, therefore, the lottery, that he hath devised in That in your knowledge my by me be done, these three chests, of gold, silver, and lead, And am I prest' unto it: therefore speak. (whereof who chuses his meaning, chuses you)
Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left, 15 will, no doubt, never be chosen by any rightly, And she is fair, and, fairer than that word, but one who you shall rightly love. But what Of wondrous virtues: sometimes from her eyes warmth is there in your affection towards any of I did receive fair speechless messages:
these princely suitors that are already come? Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalu'd
Por. I pray thee, over-name them; and, as thou To Cato's daughter, Brutus Portia.
|20 nani'st them, I will describe them; and, accordNor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ; ing to my description, level at my affection. For the four winds blow in from every coast
Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. Renowned suitors: and her sunny locks
Por. Ay, that's a colt', indeed, for he doth noHang on her temples like a golden fleece; thing but talk of his horse; and he makes it a Which makes her seat of Belmont, Colchos 25 great appropriation to his own good parts, that And many Jasuns come in quest of her. [strand, he can shoe him himself: I am much afraid my O my Anthonio, had I but the means
lady his mother played false with a smith. To hold a rival place with one of them,
Nor. Then, there is the County Palatine. I have a mind presages me such thrift,
Por. He doth nothing but frown; as, who That I should questionless be fortunate. 130 should say, An if you will not have me, chuse : he
Anth. Thou know'st, that all my fortunes are hears merry tales and smiles not: I fear he will Nor have I money, nor commodity, [at sea; prove the weeping philosopher when he grows To raise a present sum: therefore go forth, old, being so full of unmannerly sadness in his Try what iny credit can in Venice do;
youth. I had rather be married to a death'sThat shall be rack’d, even to the uttermost, 35 head with a bone in his mouth, than to either of To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. these. God defend me from these two! Go, presently enquire, and so will I,
Ner. Ilow say you by the French lord, MonWhere money is; and I no question make,
sieur Le Bon? To have it of my trust, or for my
Por. God made him, and therefore let him pass
40 for a man, In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mockSCENE II.
er; But, he! why, he hath a horse better than the A Room in Portia's House in Belmont. Neapolitan's; a better bad habit of frowning than
the Count Palatine: he is every man in no man: Enter Portia and Nerissa.
if a throstle sing, he falls strait a-rapering ; he will Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is a- 45 fence with his own shadow: if I should marry weary of this great world.
him, I should marry twenty husbands: If he would Nér. You would be, sweet madam, if your mi- despise me, I would forgive him ; for if he love series were in the same abundance as your good me to madness, I shall never requite him. fortunes are: And yet, for aught I see, they are as Ner. What say you then to Faulconbridge, sick, that surfeit with too much, as they that starve 50 the young baron of England? with nothing: It is no mean happiness therefore, Por. You know I say nothing to him; for he to be seated in the mean; superfluity comes sooner understands not me, nor I him: he hath neither by white hairs, but competency lives longer. Latin, French, nor Italian; and you will come Por. Good sentences, and well pronounc'd. into the court and swear, that I have a poor penNer. They would be better, if well follow'd. 55 ny-worth in the English. He is a proper man's
Por. If to do, were as easy as to know what picture; But, alas! who can converse with a were good to do, chapels had been churches, and dumb show? How oddly he is suited! I think, poor men's cottages, princes' palaces. It is a good he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose in divine, that follows his own instructions. I can France, bis bonnet in Germany, and his behavieasier teach twenty what were good to be done, 60 our every-where. than be one of the twenty to follow mine own Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his teaching. The brain may devise laws for the neighbour?
· That is, ready to do it. : Sometimes here means formerly. ?i. e, a thoughtless, gidily, gay youngster.