Anth. Fy, fy!

Sola. Not in love neither! Then let's fay you're fad,
Because you are not merry; and 'twere as eafy
For you to laugh and leap, and fay, you're 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 parrots at a bag piper; ·
And others of fuch vinegar-afpect,

That they'll not fhew their teeth in way of fmile,
Though Neftor fwear the jest be laughable. ·

Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO. Sal. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, Gratiano and Lorenzo. Fare ye well;

We leave you now with better company."

Sola. 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 bufinefs calls on you,
And you embrace th' occafion to depart.
Sal. Good-morrow, my good lords.

Bal. Good figniors both, when fhall we laugh?
Say, when?

You grow exceeding ftrange. Muft it be fo??
Sal. We'll make our leifures to attend on yours.
Sola. My lord Bassanio, fince you've found Anthonio,
We two will leave you; but at dinner-time,
I pray you have in mind where we must meet.
Ba. I will not fail you. [Exeunt Solar. and Sala.~
Gra. You look not well, fignior Anthonio,
You have too much refpect upon the world;
They loofe it, that do buy it with much care,
Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd.

Anth. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano,
A ftage, where every man must play his part,
And mine's a fad one.

Gra. Let me play the fool.

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come

*This is a very pleasant fignificant fatirical rhapfody, rather difficult to fpeak with propriety, the ideas conveyed in it being obfcure, and the ftile of expreffion neculiar.

A 3

And

And let my liver rather heat with wine,
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why should 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 ftanding pond,
And do a wilful tilnefs entertain,

With purpose to be dreft in an opinion,
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;
As who thould fay, I am Sir Oracle,
And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!
O my Anthonio, I do know of those,
That therefore only are reputed wife,
For faying nothing.

I'll tell thee more of this, another time;
But fish not with this melancholy bait,
For this fool's gudgeon, this opinion.
Come, good Lorenzo; fare ye well, a while,
I'll end my exhortation, after dinner.

Lor. Well, we will leave you then, 'till dinnerI must be one of thefe fame dumb wife men; [time. For Gratiano never lets me fpeak.

Gra. Well, keep me company but two years more, Thou shalt not know the found of thine own tongue. Anth. Farewel; I'll grow a talker for this gear. Gra. Thanks, i'faith; for filence is only commendable,

In a neat's tongue dry'd, and a maid not vendible. [Exeunt Gra. and Loren. Anth. Is that any thing, now?

Bal. Gratiano fpeaks 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 fhall feek, all day, ere you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the fearch.*

* Baffanio's remark of the grains of wheat and chaff, is compactly pregnant with juft fatire, upon all thofe who prate much to very little purpose.

Anth.

Arth. Well, tell me now, what lady is the fame,
To whom you fwore a fecret pilgrimage,
That you to day promis'd to tell me of?

B. 'Tis not unknown to you, Anthonio,
How much I have difabled mine eftate,
By fhewing fomething a more fwelling port,
Than my faint means would grant continuince.
Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd
From fuch a noble rate; but my chief care
Is to come fairly off from the great debts,
Wherein my time, fomething too prodigal,
Hath left me gaged. To you, Anthonio,
I owe the moft, in money and in love;
And from your love I have a warranty,
T' unburden all my plots and purposes,
How to get clear of all the debts I owe.t

Anth. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it;
And if it ftand, as you yourself ftill do,
Within the eye of honour, be affur'd,

My purfe, my perfon, my extremeft means,
Lie all unlock'd to your occafions.

Baff. In my fchool days, when I had loft one shaft,
I fhot his fellow, of the felf fame flight,
The felf-fame way, with more advised watch,
To find the other forth; by vent'ring 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,
That which I owe is loft; but if you please
To shoot another arrow that felf way,

Which you did fhoot the first, I do not doubt,
As I will watch the aim, or to find both,
Or bring your latter hazard back again,
And thankfully reft debtor for the first.*

Anth. You know me well; and herein spend but

To wind about my love with circumftance; [time,

です

† Baffanio's method of opening his cafe to Anthonio, is mo deftly fenfible, well conceived, and prettily worded.

This ready and generous ftretch of credit, to ferve a friend, gives us a most amiable idea of Anthonio's character, and leads on to the plot, agreeably.

The idea of fhooting one arrow at random, to find another that has been foft, though boyish, is introduced here with much care and propriety of application.

And

And out of doubt, you do me now more wrong,
In making question of my uttermoft,

Than if you had made waste of all I have.
Then do but fay to me what I'fhould do,
That in your knowledge may by me be done,
And I am prett unto it: therefore speak.
Baff. In Belmont is a lady, richly left,
And the is fair, and, fairer than that word,
Of wond'rous virtues, Sometime, from her eyes
I did receive fair speechless meffages;
Her name is Portia, nothing undervalu'd
To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia :

Nor is the wide world ign'rant of her worth;
For the four winds blow in from ev'ry coast,
Renowned fuitors.

O, my Anthonio, had I but the means,
To hold a rival place with one of them,
I have a mind prefages me fuch thrift,
That I fhould questionless be fortunate,

Anth. Thou know'ft, that all my fortunes are at

Nor have I money, nor commodity,

[fea,

To raise a prefent fum; therefore, go forth;
Try what my credit can in Venice do ;

That fhall be rack'd, even to the uttermoft,

To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia.
Go, prefently inquire, and fo will 1,
Where money is; and I no question make,
To have it of my truft, or for my fake.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to PORTIA's House in Belmont. A grand Salcon.

Three Cafkets are fet out, one of Gold, another of Silver, and another of Lead.

Enter PORTIA and NERISSA.

Por. By my tro h, Neriffa, my little body is weary of this great world.

Ner You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in the fame abundance, as your good fortunes are; and yet, for ought I fee, they are as fick, that furfeit with too much, as they that ftarve with no

thing i

thing; therefore, it is no mean happiness to be feated in the mean. Superfluity comes fooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer.

Por. Good fentences, and well pronounc'd. Ner. They would be better, if well follow'd. Por. If to do, were as eafy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages, princes' palaces. He is good divine, that follows his own inftructions; I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than to be one of the twenty to follow my own teaching. But this reafoning is not in fashion, to chufe me a huf band. O me, the word, chufe! I may neither chufe whom I would, nor refufe whom I dislike; fo is the will of a living daughter, curb'd by the will of a dead father. Is it not hard, Nerifa, that I cannot chufe one, nor refufe none?

Ner. Your father wa ever virtuous, and holy men, at their death, have good infpirations: therefore the lottery that he hath devifed, in thefe three chefts of gold, filver, and lead, (whereof who chufes his meaning, chufes you) will no doubt never be chofen by any, rightly, but one who fhall rightly love. But what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these princely fuitors, that are al

ready come?

Por. I pray thee, over-name them, and as thounam'ft them, I will defcribe them; and, according to my defcription, level at my affection.

Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince.

Por. Ay, that's a dolt, indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horfe; and he makes it a great appropriation to his own good parts, that he can fhoe him, himself; I am much afraid, my lady, his mother, play'd falfe with a faith.

Ner. Then, there is the count Palatine.

Por. He doth nothing but frown, as who should fay, if you will not have me, chufe: he hears merry tales, and fmiles not: I fear he will prove the weeping philofopher, when he grows old, being fo full of unmannerly fadness in his youth. I had rather be married to a death's head with a bone in his

mouth,