MERCHANT OF VENICE. ACT I. SCENE I. Venice. A street. Enter Antonio, Salarino, and Salanio. Antonio. IN sooth, I know not why I am so sad ; And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean; That curt'sy to them, do them reverence, As they fly by them with their woven wings. Salan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, The better part of my affections would Ships of large burthen. Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind; Peering in maps, for ports, and piers, and roads; And every object, that might make me fear Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt, Would make me sad. Salar. My wind, cooling my broth, And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks? Is sad to think upon his merchandize. Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it, My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, Nor to one place; nor is ny whole estate Therefore, my merchandize makes me not sad. Ant. Fy, fy! Salan. Not in love neither? Then let's say, you are sad, Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy * Lowering. Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time: That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano. Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, Gratiano, and Lorenzo: Fare you well; If worthier friends had not prevented me. Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? You grow exceeding strange: Must it be so ? tonio, We two will leave you: but, at dinner-time, 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 chang'd. 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; Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond; 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. But fish not with this melancholy bait, Come, good Lorenzo :-Fare ye well, a while; 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: I'll grow a talker for this gear. Gra. Thanks, i'faith; for silence is only commend. able In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. [Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo. Ant. Is that any thing now? Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice: His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; you * Obstinaté silence. 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 To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, That you to-day promis'd to tell me of? Bass. "Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, How much I have disabled mine estate, By something showing a more swelling port Than my faint means would grant continuance: Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd From such a noble rate; but my chief care Is, to come fairly off from the great debts, Wherein my time, something too prodigal, Hath left me gaged: To you, Antonio, I owe the most, in money, and in love; And from your love I have a warranty To unburthen all my plots and purposes, How to get clear of all the debts I owe. Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; And, if it stand, as you yourself still do, Within the eye of honour, be assur'd, My purse, my person, my extremest means, Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, I shot his fellow of the self-same flight The self-same way, with more advised watch, Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, Or bring your latter hazard back again, Ant. You know me well; and herein spend but time, To wind about my love with circumstance; |