1

chant of Venice.

With the extreme cruelty of Shylocke
the lew towards the saide Merchant, in cut-
ting a iust pound of his flesh. And the obtaining
of Portia, by the choyse of
three Caskets.

Written by W.SHAKESPEARE,

The Comical History of the Merchant of Venice.

Enter Antbonio, Salaryno, and Salanio.

of me,

Nthonie. Insooth 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 stuffe tis made off, whereof it is borne,
I am to learne: & such a want-wit sadnes makes

That I haue much adoe to know my felfe.

Salarino. Your minde is tossing on the Ocean,
There where your Argofies with portly sayle,
Like Signiors and rich Burgars on the flood,
Or as it were the Pageants of the sea,
Doe ouer-peere the petty traffiquers
That cursie to them, do them reuerence
As they flie by them with their wouen wings.

Salanio. Belecue me fir, had I such venture foorth,
The better part of my affections would
Be with my hopes abroad, I should be Aill
Plucking the graffe, to know where fits the winde,
Piering in Maps, for Ports, for Peeres and Rodes;
And every obiect that might make me feare.
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt
Would make me fad.

Salar. My winde cooling my broch,
Would blow me to an Ague, when I thought
What harme a winde too great at fea, might do.
I should not fee the sandy howre-glafle runne,
But I should thinke of shallowes, and of flats,
Andice my wealthy Andrew dockes in fand,
Veyling her high top lower then her ribs,
To kifle her buriall. Should I goto Clands,
And fee the holy edifice of stone,
And not bethinke me Araight of dangerousrockes,
Which touching but nay gentle vessels fide,
Would scatter all the spices on the streaine,
Enrobe the roaring waters with my filkes ;
And in a word, but euen now worth this,
And now worth nothing? Shall I haue the though
To thinke on this, and shall I lacke the thought,
That such a thing be-chanc'd would make me fadit
But tell not me, I know Anthonio
Is fad to thinke vpon his merchandize.

Anth, Beleeue me no: I thanke my fortune for it,
My ventures are not in one bottome trusted,
Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
Vpon the fortune of this present yeare:
Therefore my merchandize makes me not fad.
Salar. Then y'are in loue.

Anth. Fie, fic.

Salar. Not in loue neither? Then let vs say you are fad,
Because you are not merry: and 'twere as cafie
For you to laugh and leape, and say you are merry,
Because you are not sad. Now by two-headed Janw,
Nature hath Gram'd strange fellowes in her timer
Some that will cuctmore peepe through their cies,
And laugh like Parrats at a bag-piper.
And other of such vinegar aspect,
That they'l not shew their teeth in way of smile,
Though Neftor sweare the jest be laughable.

Enter