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 fea.
I fhould not fee the fandy hour-glafs run,
But I fhould think of fhallows and of flats,
And fee my wealthy Arg'fie 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 ftream,
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.
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 eftate
Upon the fortune of this prefent year:
Therefore my merchandize makes me not fad.
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 easy
For you to laugh and leap, and fay you're merry,
'Cause you're not fad. Now by two-headed Janus,
Nature hath fram'd strange 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 Netor fwear the jest be laughable.
Enter Baffanio, Lorenzo and Gratiano.
Sal. Here comes Bajanio 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 bufinefs calls on you,
And you embrace th' occafion to depart.
Sal. Good morrow, my good lords.
Baff. Good Signiors both, when shall we laugh? fay when? You grow exceeding ftrange; muft it be fo?
Sal. We'll make our leifures to attend on yours.
Sola. My lord Baffanio, fince you've found Anthonio.
We two will leave you; but at dinner-time,
pray you have in mind where we must meet.
Baff. I will not fail you. [Exeunt Solar. and Sala.
Gra. You look not well, Signior Anthonie ;
You have too much refpect upon the world :
They lofe 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, whofe 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 thee, and it is my love that speaks :)
There are a fort of men, whofe vifages
Do cream and mantle like a ftanding pond,
And do a wilful ftilnefs entertain,
With purpose to be dreft in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit,
As who fhould fay, I am Sir Oracle,
And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark I
O my Anthonio, I do know of those,
That therefore only are reputed wife,
VOL. II.
For faying nothing; who I'm very fure,
If they should speak, would almoft damn thofe ears,
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools.*
I'll tell thee more of this another time
But fish not with this melancholy bait,
For this fool's gudgeon, this Opinion.
Come good Lorenzo, fare ye well a while,
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 fpeak.
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.
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 fhall 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 fecret pilgrimage,
That you to-day promis'd to tell me of?
Ba. 'Tis not unknown to you, Anthonio,
How much I have difabled mine eftate,
By fhewing fomething a more fwelling port
Than my faint means would grant continuance
Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd
From fuch 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 moft in mony, and in love,
And from your love I have a warranty
T'unburthen all my plots and purposes,
Alluding to what is aid in the Gospel, that Whosoever shall fay
to his brother, Thoujol, shall be in danger of Hell fire.
How to get clear of all the debts I owe.
Anth. I pray you, good Baffanio, let me know it,
And if it ftand, as you your felf still do,
Within the eye of honour, be affur'd
My purse, my perfon, my extreamest means
Lye all unlock'd to your occafions.
Baff. In my fchool-days, when I had loft one shaft,
I fhot his fellow of the felf-fame flight
The felf-fame way, with more advised watch,
To find the other, forth; by ventring both,
I oft found both. I urge this child-hood 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 fhoot 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 circumstance;
And out of doubt you do me now more wrong,
In making question of my uttermoft,
Than if you had made wafte of all I have.
Then do but fay to me, what I fhould do,
That in your knowledge may by me be done,
And I am preft unto it: therefore fpeak.
Baff. In Belmont is a lady richly left,
And he is fair, and fairer than that word,
Of wond'rous virtues; fometime from her eyes
I did receive fair fpeechlefs meffages;
Her name is Portia, nothing undervalu'd
To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia :
Nor is the wide world ign'rant of her worth;
For the four winds blow in from every coaft
Renowned fuitors; and her funny locks
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece,
Which makes her feat of Belmont, Colchos frond,
And many Jafons come in queft of her.
O my Anthonio, had I but the means
S 2
To hold a rival-place with one of them,
I have a mind prefages me fuch thrift,
That I fhould queftionless be fortunate.
Anth. Thou know'ft that all my fortunes are at fea,
Nor have I mony, nor commodity
To raise a prefent fum; therefore
go forth,
Try what my credit can in Venice do ;
That fhall be rack'd even to the uttermoft,
To furnish thee to Belmont to fair Portia :
Go prefently enquire, and fo will I,
Where mony is, and I no queftion make
To have it of my truft, or for my fake.
SCENE II. Belmont,
Three Cafkets are fet out, one of gold, another of filver, and another of lead.
Enter Portia and Neriffa.
Por. By my troth, Neriffa, my little body is weary of this great world.
Ner. You would be, fweet madam, if your miseries were in the fame abundance as your good fortunes are ; and yet, for ought I fee, they are as fick that furfeit with too much, as they that ftarve with nothing; therefore it is no fmall happiness to be feated in the mean; fuperfluity comes fooner by white hairs, and competency lives longer.
Por. Good fentences, and well pronounc'd.
Ner. They would be better if well follow'd.
Por. If to do, were as eafie as to know what were good to do, chappels had been churches, and poor mens cottages Princes palaces. He is a good divine that follows his own ingructions; I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may devife laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree; fuch a hare is madness the youth, to fkip o'er the meshes of good counsel the cripple. But this reafoning is not in fashion to chufe me a husband: O me, the word chufe! I may neither chufe whom I would, nor refufe whom I diflike, fo is the will of a living daughter curb'd by the will of a dead father:
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