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MERCHANT OF VENICE.
Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean;
Salan. Believe me, Sir, had I such venture forth,
Salar. 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 see the sandy hour-glass run, But I should think of shallows and of fats; 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 dangerous rocks? * Ships of large burthen.
Which touching but my gentle vessel's side,
I know, Antonio
Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it,
Saban. Why then you are in love.
Janus, Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time : Some that will evermore peep through their eyes, Aud laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper; And other of such vinegar aspect, That they'll not shew their teeth in way of smile, Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.
Enter BassANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO. Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your inost noble
kinsman, Gratiano, and Lorenzo: sare you well; We leave you now with better company. Salar. I would have staid till I had made you
Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard.
Salar. Good morrow, my good lords.
Say, when ?
[Exeunt Salarino and Salanio. Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found
We two will leave you : but, at dinner time,
Gra. You look not well, signior Antonio;
Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; A stage, where every man must play a part, And mine a sad one,
Gra. Let me play the Fool : With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? Sleep when he wakes? And creep into the jaundice By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,I love thee, and it is my love that speaks ;There are a sort of men, whose visages Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond ; And do a wilful stillness entertain, With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit; As who should say, I am Sir Oracle, And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark ! O, my Antonio, I do know of these, That therefore only are reputed wise, For saying nothing ; who, I am very sure, If they should speak, would almost damn those 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 same dumb wise men, - For Gratiano never lets me speak. Gra. Well, keep me company but two years
more, Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.
Ant. Farewell : l'll grow a talker for this gear.
able In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible.
(Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo. Ant. Is that any thing now?
Bass. Gratianio speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice : his reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two busbels of chaff ; you shall seek all day ere you find them ; and, when
you have them, they are not worth the search.
Ant. Well; tell me now what lady is this same
Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it;
shaft, . I shot his fellow of the self-same flight The self-same way, with more advised watch, To find the other forth; and by advent'ring 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 lost : but if you please To shoot another arrow that self 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 rest debtor for the first. Ant. You know me well; and herein spend but
That in your knowledge may by me be done,
Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left,
Ant. Thou know'st, that all my fortunes are at sea ; Nor have I money, nor commodity To raise a present sum: therefore go forth, Try what my credit can in Venice do ; That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost, To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. Go, presently inquire, and so will I, Where money is; and I no question make, To have it of my trust, or for my sake. (Exeunt. SCENE II.-Belmont.-A Room in Portia's House.
Enter PORTIA and NERISSA. Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of this great world.
Ner: You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are : and, yet, for aught I see, they are as sick, that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing. It is no mean happiness, therefore, to be seated in the mean ; superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer. Por. Good sentences, and well pronounced. Ner. They would be better, if well followed.
Por. If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages, princes' palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions; I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be