SCENE, a Street in VENICE.
Enter Anthonio, Solarino, and Salanio.
N footh, I know not why I am fo fad:
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 want of wit fadnefs 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 was the pageants of the fea,
Do over peer the petty traffickers,
That curtfy to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.
Sola. Believe, fir, had I fuch a venture forth,
The better part of my affections would
Be with my hopes abroad. I fhould 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 fea.
I should not fee the fandy hour glafs run,
But I fhould think of shallows 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 !
And fee the holy edifice of flone,
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,
Rut tell not me ?- I know, Anthonio
Is fad to think upon his merchandize,
Anib. 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 present year :
Therefore, my merchandize makes me not fad
Sola. Why then you are in love."
Sela. Not in love neither! then let's fay, you're fad,
Because you are merry; and 'twere as eafy
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 fhew their teeth in way of fmile,
Though Nefter fwear, the jest be laughable.
Enter Baffanio, Lorenzo, and Grationo.
Sal. Here comes Faffanio: your most noble kinfinan, 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 bufinets
And you embrace th' occafion to depart
Sal Good morrow, my good lords.
Bag. Good figniors both, when thall we laugh? fay,
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,
I pray you, have in mind were we must meet.
Baff. I will not fail you.
Gra. You look not well, fignior An Jonio,
You have too much refpect upon the world:
They lose it, that do buy it with mach care.
Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd.
Anth. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano,
A ftage where every man muft play his part,
And mine's a fad one.
Gra. Let me play the fool :
With mirth, and laughter, let old wrinkles come :
And let my liver rather heat with wine,
heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why should a man, whofe blood is warm within,
Sit like his grandfire cut in alabaster ?
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 fiancing pond?
And do a wilful ftilnefs entertain,
With purpose to be dreft in an opinion
Of witdom, gravity, profound conceit;
As who should fay, I am Eir Oeacle,
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'm very fure
If they should fpeak, would almost dam 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 fools gudgeon, this opinion,
Come, good Lorenze; fare ye well a while
I'll end my exortation after dinner.
Lor. Well, we will leave you then 'till dinner-time. I must be one of these same dumb wise men;
For Gratiano never lets me fpeak.
Gra. Well, keep me company but two years more, Y Thou shalt not know the found of thy own tongue.
Anth. Farewel, I'll grow a talker for this jeer.
Gra Thanks, i'faith; for filence is only commendable: In a neat's 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 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 the 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 swelling 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 gaged: to you, Anthonio,
I owe the most in money, and in love
And from your love I have a warrantry
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 ftand. as you yourself 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 lost one fhafty
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 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 shoot 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 fpend but time, To wind about my love with circumstance;
And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong,
In making queftion of my uttermoft,
Than if you had made waste of all I have.
Then do but fay to me, what I should do,
That in your knowledge may be done,
And I am preft unto it: therefore, fpeak,
Baff. In Belmont is a lady richly left,
And the 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 i
For the four winds blow in from every coast
Renowned fuitors, and her funny locks
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece;
Which makes her feat of Belmont, Colchus's strand
• And many Jafons come in queft of her.
O my Antbonio, had I but the means
To hold a rival place with one of them,
I have a mind preffages me fuch thrift,
That I fhould questionlefs be fortunate.
Anth. Thou know'ft, that all my fortunes are at sea,` Nor have I money, or commodity
To raise a prefent fum; therefore, go forth;
Try what my credit can in Venice do,
That shall be rack'd even to the uttermoft,
To furnish the to Belmont, to fair Portia :
Go prefently enquire, and fo will I,
Where money is; and I no queftion make,
To have it of my truft or for my fake.
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