The Merchant Of Venice

1 Enter Antonio, Salarino and Solanio.
2 ANTONIO.
3 In sooth I know not why I am so sad,
4 It wearies me, you say it wearies you;
5 But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
6 What stuff ’tis made of, whereof it is born,
7 I am to learn.
8 And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
9 That I have much ado to know myself.
10 SALARINO.
11 Your mind is tossing on the ocean,
12 There where your argosies, with portly sail
13 Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood,
14 Or as it were the pageants of the sea,
15 Do overpeer the petty traffickers
16 That curtsy to them, do them reverence,
17 As they fly by them with their woven wings.
18 SOLANIO.
19 Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth,
20 The better part of my affections would
21 Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
22 Plucking the grass to know where sits the wind,
23 Peering in maps for ports, and piers and roads;
24 And every object that might make me fear
25 Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt
26 Would make me sad.
27 SALARINO.
28 My wind cooling my broth
29 Would blow me to an ague when I thought
30 What harm a wind too great might do at sea.
31 I should not see the sandy hour-glass run
32 But I should think of shallows and of flats,
33 And see my wealthy Andrew dock’d in sand,
34 Vailing her high top lower than her ribs
35 To kiss her burial. Should I go to church
36 And see the holy edifice of stone
37 And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks,
38 Which, touching but my gentle vessel’s side,
39 Would scatter all her spices on the stream,
40 Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks,
41 And, in a word, but even now worth this,
42 And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought
43 To think on this, and shall I lack the thought
44 That such a thing bechanc’d would make me sad?
45 But tell not me, I know Antonio
46 Is sad to think upon his merchandise.
47 ANTONIO.
48 Believe me, no. I thank my fortune for it,
49 My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,
50 Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
51 Upon the fortune of this present year.
52 Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad.
53 SALARINO.
54 Why then you are in love.
55 ANTONIO.
56 Fie, fie!
57 SALARINO.
58 Not in love neither? Then let us say you are sad
59 Because you are not merry; and ’twere as easy
60 For you to laugh and leap and say you are merry
61 Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus,
62 Nature hath fram’d strange fellows in her time:
63 Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,
64 And laugh like parrots at a bagpiper.
65 And other of such vinegar aspect
66 That they’ll not show their teeth in way of smile
67 Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.
68 Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo and Gratiano.
69 SOLANIO.
70 Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman,
71 Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare ye well.
72 We leave you now with better company.
73 SALARINO.
74 I would have stay’d till I had made you merry,
75 If worthier friends had not prevented me.
76 ANTONIO.
77 Your worth is very dear in my regard.
78 I take it your own business calls on you,
79 And you embrace th’ occasion to depart.
80 SALARINO.
81 Good morrow, my good lords.
82 BASSANIO.
83 Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? Say, when?
84 You grow exceeding strange. Must it be so?
85 SALARINO.
86 We’ll make our leisures to attend on yours.
87 [_Exeunt Salarino and Solanio._]
88 LORENZO.
89 My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio,
90 We two will leave you, but at dinner-time
91 I pray you have in mind where we must meet.
92 BASSANIO.
93 I will not fail you.
94 GRATIANO.
95 You look not well, Signior Antonio,
96 You have too much respect upon the world.
97 They lose it that do buy it with much care.
98 Believe me, you are marvellously chang’d.
99 ANTONIO.
100 I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano,
101 A stage, where every man must play a part,
102 And mine a sad one.
103 GRATIANO.
104 Let me play the fool,
105 With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come,
106 And let my liver rather heat with wine
107 Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
108 Why should a man whose blood is warm within
109 Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?
110 Sleep when he wakes? And creep into the jaundice
111 By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,
112 (I love thee, and ’tis my love that speaks):
113 There are a sort of men whose visages
114 Do cream and mantle like a standing pond,
115 And do a wilful stillness entertain,
116 With purpose to be dress’d in an opinion
117 Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit,
118 As who should say, “I am Sir Oracle,
119 And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark.”
120 O my Antonio, I do know of these
121 That therefore only are reputed wise
122 For saying nothing; when, I am very sure,
123 If they should speak, would almost damn those ears
124 Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools.
125 I’ll tell thee more of this another time.
126 But fish not with this melancholy bait
127 For this fool gudgeon, this opinion.
128 Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well a while.
129 I’ll end my exhortation after dinner.
130 LORENZO.
131 Well, we will leave you then till dinner-time.
132 I must be one of these same dumb wise men,
133 For Gratiano never lets me speak.
134 GRATIANO.
135 Well, keep me company but two years moe,
136 Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.
137 ANTONIO.
138 Fare you well. I’ll grow a talker for this gear.
139 GRATIANO.
140 Thanks, i’ faith, for silence is only commendable
141 In a neat’s tongue dried, and a maid not vendible.
142 [_Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo._]
143 ANTONIO.
144 Is that anything now?
145 BASSANIO.
146 Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all
147 Venice. His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of
148 chaff: you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them
149 they are not worth the search.
150 ANTONIO.
151 Well, tell me now what lady is the same
152 To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,
153 That you today promis’d to tell me of?
154 BASSANIO.
155 ’Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
156 How much I have disabled mine estate
157 By something showing a more swelling port
158 Than my faint means would grant continuance.
159 Nor do I now make moan to be abridg’d
160 From such a noble rate, but my chief care
161 Is to come fairly off from the great debts
162 Wherein my time, something too prodigal,
163 Hath left me gag’d. To you, Antonio,
164 I owe the most in money and in love,
165 And from your love I have a warranty
166 To unburden all my plots and purposes
167 How to get clear of all the debts I owe.
168 ANTONIO.
169 I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it;
170 And if it stand, as you yourself still do,
171 Within the eye of honour, be assur’d
172 My purse, my person, my extremest means
173 Lie all unlock’d to your occasions.
174 BASSANIO.
175 In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft,
176 I shot his fellow of the self-same flight
177 The self-same way, with more advised watch
178 To find the other forth; and by adventuring both
179 I oft found both. I urge this childhood proof
180 Because what follows is pure innocence.
181 I owe you much, and, like a wilful youth,
182 That which I owe is lost. But if you please
183 To shoot another arrow that self way
184 Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,
185 As I will watch the aim, or to find both,
186 Or bring your latter hazard back again,
187 And thankfully rest debtor for the first.
188 ANTONIO.
189 You know me well, and herein spend but time
190 To wind about my love with circumstance;
191 And out of doubt you do me now more wrong
192 In making question of my uttermost
193 Than if you had made waste of all I have.
194 Then do but say to me what I should do
195 That in your knowledge may by me be done,
196 And I am prest unto it. Therefore, speak.
197 BASSANIO.
198 In Belmont is a lady richly left,
199 And she is fair, and, fairer than that word,
200 Of wondrous virtues. Sometimes from her eyes
201 I did receive fair speechless messages:
202 Her name is Portia, nothing undervalu’d
203 To Cato’s daughter, Brutus’ Portia.
204 Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth,
205 For the four winds blow in from every coast
206 Renowned suitors, and her sunny locks
207 Hang on her temples like a golden fleece,
208 Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos’ strond,
209 And many Jasons come in quest of her.
210 O my Antonio, had I but the means
211 To hold a rival place with one of them,
212 I have a mind presages me such thrift
213 That I should questionless be fortunate.
214 ANTONIO.
215 Thou know’st that all my fortunes are at sea;
216 Neither have I money nor commodity
217 To raise a present sum, therefore go forth
218 Try what my credit can in Venice do;
219 That shall be rack’d even to the uttermost,
220 To furnish thee to Belmont to fair Portia.
221 Go presently inquire, and so will I,
222 Where money is, and I no question make
223 To have it of my trust or for my sake.
224 [_Exeunt._]