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DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. The DUKE OF VENICE.
OLD GOBBO, father to Launcelot. The PRINCE OF Morocco, } suitors to Portia.
LEONARDO, servant to Bassanio. The PRINCE OF ARRAGON,
STEPHANO ANTONIO, a merchant of Venice.
servants to Portia BASSANIO, his friend, suitor likewise to Portia.
PORTIA, a rich heiress. SALANIO,
NERISSA, her waiting-maid. SALARINO,
friends to Antonio and Bssanio. JESSICA, daughter to Shylock. GRATIANO, SALERIO,
Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court LORENZO, in love with Jessica
of Justice, Gaoler, Servants to Portia, SHYLOCK, a rich Jew.
and other Attendants. TOBAL, a Jew, his friend.
[lock. SCENE : Partly at Venice, and partly at B-lLAUNCELOT Gobbo, the clown, servant to Shy- mont, the seat of Portia, on the Continent,
ACT I. SCENE I. Venice. A street. Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SALANIO.
Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad : It wearies me; you say 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 such a want-wit sadness makes of me, That I have much ado to know myself.
Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean ; There, where your argosies with portly sail, Like signiors and rich burghers on the tood, Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea, 11 Do overpeer the petty traffickers, That curtsy to them, do them reverence, As tiey tly by them with their woven wings. Saluit. "Believe me, sir, had I such venture
forth, The better part of my affections would Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still Plucking the grass, to kuow where sits the wind, Peering in maps for ports and piers and roads; And every object that might make me fear 20 Misfortuie to my ventures, out of doubt Would make me sad. Salar.
My wind cooling my broth Would blow me to an ague, when I thought What harin a wind too great at sea might do. I should not see the sandy hour-glass run, But I should think of shallows and of flats, 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,
30 And noi bethink me straight of dangerous
rocks, Which touching but my gentle vessel's side, Would scatter all her spices on the stream, Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks, And, in a word, but even now worth this, And now worth nothing ? Shall I have the
thought To think on this, and shall I lack the thought That such a thing bechanced would make me
sad ? But tell not me; I know, Antonio Is sad to think upon his merchandise. 10
Ant. Believe me, no : I thank my fortune
Salar. Why, then you are in love.
Fie, fie! Salar. Not in love neither? Then let us
say you are sad, Because you are not merry:and 'twere as east For you to laugh and leap and say you are
merry, Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus,
50) Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time :
[eyes Some that will evermore peep through their And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper, And other of such vinegar aspect That they'll not show their teeth in way of
smile, Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO. Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most
noble kinsman, Gratiano and Lorenzo. Fare ye well : We leave you now with better company, Salar. I would have stay'd till I had inade
yoni merry, If worthier friends had not prevented me.
Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard.
Salar. Good morrow, iny good lords.
laugh ? say, when ? You grow exceeding strange : must it beso? Sular. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours.
(Exeunt Salarino and Salieni Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you have
found Antonio, We two will leave you : but at dinner-time, 1 I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. Bass. I will not fail you.
Gra. You look not well, Signior Antonio You have too much respect upon the world : They lose it that do buy it with much care ;
Believe me, you are marvellously changed. Is to come fairly off from the great debts
Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio, 130
And from your love I have a warranty
Let me play the fool : To unburden all my plots and purposes Wich mirth and laughter let old wrinkles How to get clear of all the debts I owe. come,
80 Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me .Ind let my liver rather heat with wine
know it; Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. And if it stand, as you yourself still do, Why should a man, whose blood is warm Within the eye of honor, be assured, within,
My purse, my person, my extremest means, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ?
Lie all unlock'd to your occasions. Sleep when he wakes and creep into the Bass. In ny school-days, when I had lost jaundice
140 By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio- I shot his fellow of the self-same fight
To find the other forth, and by adventuring
both. And do a wilful stillness entertain,
90 I ost found both : I urge this childhood proof,
That which I owe is lost ; but if you please
Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,
As I will watch the aim, or to find both 150
[fools. Ant. You know me well, and herein spend
In making question of my uttermost
Then do but say to me what I should do
And I am prest into it: therefore, speak. 160
And she is fair, and, fairer than that word,
eyes Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own I did receive fair speechless messages : tongue.
(gear. Her name is Portia, nothing undervalued metru Ant. Farewell : I'll grow a talker for this To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia :
abbott Gre Thanks, i' faith, for silence is only Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth, commendable
110 For the four winds blow in from every coast' S 169 In a neat's tongue dried and a maid not vend- Renowned suitors, and her sunny locks where
ible. (Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo. Hang ou her temples like a golden fleece ; 170 Ant. Is that any thiug now?
Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos'
That I should questionless be fortunate!
Bass. "Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, Try what my credit can in Venice do : 180
That shall be rack'd, even to the utternuost,
Where money is, and I no question make
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 anght 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.
10 Por. Good sentences and well pronounced, Ver. 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 one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree: such a hare is madness the youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the cripple. But this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me a husband. () me, the word choose!' I inay neither choose whom I would nor refuse whom I dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curbed by the will of a dead father. Is it not hard, Serissa, that I Camot choose one nor refuse none ?
29 Ver. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men at their death have good inspirations: therefore the lottery, that he hath devised in these three chests of gold, silver and lead, whereof who chooses his meaning chooses you, will, no doubt, never be chosen by any rightly but one who shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these princely suitors that are already come ?
Por. I pray thee, over-name them; and as thoi namest thein, I will describe them; and, according to my description, level at my afiection.
Ver. First, there is the Neapolitan prince.
Por. As, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse; and he makes it a great appropriation to his own good parts, that he can shoe him himself. I am much aferd my lady his mother played false with a smith.
Ver. Then there is the County Palatine.
Por. He doth nothing but frown, as who should say "If you will not have me, choose:' he hears merry tales and smiles not: I fear he will prove the weeping philosopher when he grows old, being so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had rather be married to a death's-head with a bone in his mouth than to either of these. God defend me from these two!
Ner. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon ?
Por. God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker: but, he ! why, he hath a huise better than the Neapolitan's, a better ha habit of frowning than the Count Palatine; Le is every nian in no man; if a th rostle sing, le falls straight a capering: he will fence with his own shadow: if I should marry him, should marry twenty husbands. If he wonid despise me I would forgive him, for if he love me to madness, I shall never requite him. Tu
Ver. What say you, then, to Falco bridge, the young baron of England ?
Por. You know I say nothing to him, for he understands not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian, and you will come into the court and swear that I have a poor pennyworth in the English. He is ? proper inan's picture, but, alas, who can 011verse with a dumb-show? How oddly lie is suited ! I think he bought his double in Italy, his rond hose in France, his bonnet in Germany and his behavior every where,
Ver. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neiglıbor ?
Por. That he hath a neighborly charity in him, for le borrowed a box of the car of the Englislunan and swore he would pay him again when lie was able: I think the Frendman became liis surety and sealed under for another.
Ner. How like you the young German, the Duke of Saxony's nephew?
91 Por. Very vilely in the morning, when le is sober, and most vilely in the afternoon, when he is druk: when he is besi, he is a little worse than'a man, and when he is worst, he is little better than a bexst : an the worst fall that ever fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without him.
Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right casket, you should refuse to perform your fatler's will, if you should refuse to accept him.
Per. Therefore, for fear of the wort, pray thee, set a deep glass of rhenish wine on the contrary casket, for if the devil be within and that temptation without, I know he will choose it. I will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I'll be married to a sponge.
Ner. You need not fear, lady, the baring any of these lords: they have acquainteri ne with their determinations; which is, indeed to return to their home and to trouble rog with no more suit, unless you may be won some other sort than your father's imposition depending on the caskets.
Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner of my father's will. I am glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonable, for the is not one among them but I dote on his vers ahsence, and I pray God grant them a fair de parture.
Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a Venetian, a scholar and,