MERCHANT OF VENICE.

LAUNCELOT, a Clown, Servant to the Jew.

GOBBO, Father to Launcelot.

SALERIO, a Meffenger from Venice.

LEONARDO, Servant to Baffanio.

BALTHAZAR,

STEPHANO,

} Servants

Servants to Portia.

WOMEN.

PORTIA, an Heiress.

NERISSA, Waiting-Maid to Portia.

JESSICA, Daughter to Shylock.

5

Senators of Venice, Officers, Failer, Servants, and other Attendants.

SCENE, partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the Seat of

Portia.

MERCHANT OF VENICE

ACT I.

SCENE I. A Street in Venice.

Enter ANTHONIO, SALARINO, and SALANIO.
Anthonio.

[N footh, I know not why I am fo fad ;

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 fuch a want-wit fadness 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 were the pageants of the fea,—
Do over-peer the petty traffickers,

That curtfey to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.
Sala. Believe me, fir, had I fuch 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;
Prying 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 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 Andrew dock'd in fand,

A 2

Vailing

Vailing her high top lower than her ribs,
To kils her burial. Should I go to church,
And fee the holy edifice of ftone,

And not bethink me ftraight of dangerous rocks;
Which, touching but my gentle veffel's fide,
Would scatter all her 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 ?
But, tell not me; I know, Anthonio

Is fad to think upon his merchandize.

Antb. 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 estate

Upon the fortune of this prefent year :

Therefore, my merchandize makes me not fad.
Sala. Why then you are in love.

Anth. Fie, fie!

Sala. Not in love neither? Then let's fay you are fad, Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy

For you to laugh, and leap, and fay you are merry,
Because you are 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 parrets, at a bag-piper;
And other of fuch vinegar afpect,

That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile
Though Neftor fwear the jeft be laughable.

Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO. Sal. Here comes Baffanio, your most noble kinfman, Gratiano, and Lorenzo: Fare you well;

We leave you now with better company.

Salu. 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 business calls on you,
And you embrace the occafion to depart.

Sal

Sal. Good morrow, my good lords.

Baff. Good figniors 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.

[Exeunt SAL. and SALA. Lor. My lord Baffanio, fince you have found Anthonio, We two will leave you; but, at dinner-time, I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. Baff. I will not fail you.

Gra. You look not well, fignior Anthonio; You have too much refpect upon the world: They lofe it, that do buy it with much care. Believe me, you are marvelously chang'd.

Anth. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; A ftage, where every man must play a part, And mine 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,
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why fhould a man, whose 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 standing pond:
And do a wilful ftillness entertain,
With purpofe to be dreft in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit
As who should fay, I am Sir Oracle,
And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!
O, my Anthonio, I do know of thefe,
That therefore only are reputed wife
For faying nothing; who, I am very fure,

If they fhould fpeak, would almost damn those ears,
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools.
I'll tell thee more of this another time:

But fifh not, with this melancholy bait,

For