ACT I. Salerio, a messenger from Venice. Leonardo, servant to Bassanio. Balthazar, } servants to Portia. Portia, a rich heiress. Nerissa, her waiting-maid. Jessica, daughter to Shylock. Magnificoes of Venice, officers of the court of Justice, jailer, servants, and other attendants. Scene, partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the seat of Portia, on the continent. That such a thing, bechanc'd, would make me sad? SCENE I.-Venice. A street. Enter Antonio, Is sad to think upon his merchandise. 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; Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it, Salan. Why then you are in love. Ant. Fie, fie! Salan. Not in love neither? Then let's say, you are sad, Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy Janus, Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time: 'That curt'sy to them, do them reverence, As they fly by them with their woven wings. The better part of my affections would Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. Salan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still Salar. My wind, cooling my broth, Would blow me to an ague, when I thought And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks? (1) Ships of large burthen. Gra. Let me play the fool: Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. For saying nothing; who, I am very sure, If they should speak, would almost damn those ears, I'll tell thee more of this another time: Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner time: I must be one of these same dumb wise men, 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 commendable shaft, I shot his fellow of the self-same flight Ant. You know me well; and herein spend but time, To wind about my love with circumstance; Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left, Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth; 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, In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. Try what my credit can in Venice do; [Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo. That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost, Ant. Is that any thing now ? To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, Go, presently inquire, and so will I, more than any man in all Venice: His reasons are Where money is; and I no question make, as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; To have it of my trust, or for my sake. [Excuni. you shall seek all day ere you find them; and, when Ant. Well; tell me now, what lady is this same 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: Ican easier teach Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; twenty what were good to be done, than be one of And, if it stand, as you yourself still do, (1) Obstinate silence. (2) Ready. the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain (3) Formerly. may devise laws for the blood; but a hot tempér a beast: an the worst fall that ever fell, I hope, I leaps over a cold decree: such a hare is madness shall make shift to go without him. the youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the cripple. But this reasoning is not in the fashion the right casket, you should refuse to perform your to choose me a husband: -0 me, the word choose! father's will, if you should refuse to accept him. I may neither choose whom I would, nor refuse Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray whom I dislike; so is the will of a living daughter thee, set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the concurb'd by the will of a dead father: -Is it not hard, trary casket: for, if the devil be within, and that Nerissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none? temptation without, I know he will choose it. I Ner. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I will be married to men, at their death, have good inspirations; there- a spunge. fore, the lottery, that he hath devised in these three Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any chests, of gold, silver, and lead, (whereof who of these lords; they have acquainted me with their chooses his meaning, chooses you,) will, no doubt, determinations: which is, indeed, to return to their never be chosen by any rightly, but one who you home, and to trouble you with no more suit; unless shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in you may be won by some other sort than your fayour affection towards any of these princely suitors ther's imposition, depending on the caskets. that are already come? Por. I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou namest them, I will describe them; and, according to my description, level at my affection. Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. Por. Ay, 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 afraid, my lady, his mother, played false with a smith. Ner. Then is there the county Palatine. Por. He does nothing but frown; as who should say, An 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. If I live to be as old as Sybilla, 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 there is not one among them but I dote on his very absence, and I pray God grant them a fair departure. Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, that came hither in company of the Marquis of Montferrat ? Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, so was he called. Ner. True, madam; he, of all the men that ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady. Por. I remember him well; and I remember him worthy of thy praise.-How now! what news? Enter a Servant. Serv. The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take their leave and there is a forerunner come from a fifth, the prince of Morocco; who brings word, the prince, his master, will be here to-night. Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so 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 horse better than the Neapolitan's; a better bad habit of frowning good heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I than the count Palatine: he is every man in no should be glad of his approach: if he have the man: if a throstle sing, he falls straight a caper-condition of a saint, and the complexion of a devil, ing; he will fence with his own shadow: if I should I had rather he should shrive me than wive me. marry him, I should marry twenty husbands: If Come, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before. Whiles we he would despise me, I would forgive him; for if shut the gate upon one wooer, another knocks at he love me to madness, I shall never requite him. the door. Ner. What say you then to Falconbridge, 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 penny-worth in the English. He is a proper man's picture; But, alas! who can converse with a dumb show? How oddly he is suited! I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour every where. Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour? Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him; for he borrowed a box of the ear of the English man, and swore he would pay him again, when he was able: I think the Frenchman became his surety, and sealed under for another. Ner. How like you the young German, the duke of Saxony's nephew? [Exeunt. SCENE III. Venice. A public place. Enter Shy. Three thousand ducats,-well. Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound. Shy. Antonio shall become bound,-well. Bass. May you stead me? Will you pleasure me? Shall I know your answer? Shy. Three thousand ducats, for three months, and Antonio bound. Bass. Your answer to that. Shy. Antonio is a good man. Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary? Shy. Ho, no, no, no, no ;-my meaning, in saying he is a good man, is to have you understand me, that he is sufficient: yet his means are in sup Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he is so- position: he hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, ber; and most vilely in the afternoon, when he is another to the Indies: I understand moreover upon drunk: when he is best, he is a little worse than a the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for man; and when he is worst, he is little better than England, and other ventures he hath, squan (1) A heady, gay youngster. (2) Count. .(3) Temper, qualities. |