SCENE: Party at Venice, and partly at Belmont, 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 : And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean; That curtsy to them, do them reverence, 10 Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still Salar And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks, And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought That such a thing bechanced would make me sad? Is sad to think upon his merchandise. Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it, Fie, fie! 20 30 40 Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus, 50 Some that will evermore peep through their eyes And other of such vinegar aspect 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 ye well: We leave you now with better company. Salar. I would have stay'd till I had made you merry, 60 If worthier friends had not prevented me. Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. I take it, your own business calls on you And you embrace the occasion to depart. Bass. Good signiors, both, when shall we laugh? say, when? You grow exceeding strange: must it be so? Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. [Exeunt Salarino and Salanio. Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio, We two will leave you but at dinner-time, I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. Gra. You look not well, Signior Antonio Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; Gra. Let me play the fool: With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come, 70 80 Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sleep when he wakes and creep into the jaundice And when I ope my lips let no dog bark !" That therefore only are reputed wise For saying nothing, when, I am very sure, If they should speak, would almost damn those ears I'll tell thee more of this another time: Bu fish not, with this melancholy bait, Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well awhile: 90 100 Lor. Well, we will leave you then, till dinner-time : Gra. Well, keep me company but two years more, 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 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 the same To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, That you to-day promised 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 Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it And if it stand, as yourself still do, Within the eye of honour, be assured, My purse, my person, my extremest means, Lie all unlock'd to your occasions. 120 130 Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, 140 I shot his fellow of the self-same flight The self-same way with more advised watch, To find the other forth, and by adventuring both I oft found both: I urge this childhood proof, Because what follows is pure innocence. I owe you much, and, like a wilful youth, 150 Or bring your latter hazard back again And thankfully rest debtor for the first. Ant. You know me well, and herein spend but time To wind about my love with circumstance; And out of doubt you do me now more wrong In making question of my uttermost Her name is Portia, nothing undervalued To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia : Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth, For the four winds blow in from every coast Hang on her tempies like a golden fleece; 160 170 Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strand, I have a mind presages me such thrift, Ant. Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea; To raise a present sum: therefore go forth; To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. Go, presently inquire, and so will I, Where money is, and I no question make 180 [Exeunt. 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. 10 |