That curtly to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.
Sola. Believe me, Sir, had I fuch venture forth,
The better part of my affections would
Be with my hopes abroad. I fhould be ftill
Plucking the grafs, to know where fits the wind;
Peering in maps for ports, and piers, and roads;
And every object that might make me fear
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt,
Would make me fad.
Sal. My wind, cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great might do at fea
I should not fee the fandy hour-glass run,
But I fhould think of fhallows and of flats;
And fee my wealthy Andrew dock'd in fand,
Vailing her high top lower than her ribs,
To kifs her burial. Should I go to church,
And fee the holy edifice of stone;
And not bethink me strait of dangerous rocks;
Which, touching but my gentle veffel's fide,
Would scatter all her fpices on the stream,
Enrobe the roaring waters with my filks;
And, in a word, but even now worth this,
And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought
To think on this, and fhall I lack the thought,
That fuch a thing, bechanc'd, would make me fad?
But tell not me;-I know, Anthonio
Is fad to think upon his merchandize.
Anth. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it, My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,
Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
Upon the fortune of this prefent year:
Therefore my merchandize makes me not sad.
Sola. Why then you are in love.
Sola. Not in love neither! then let's fay, you're fad, Because you are not merry; and 'twere as easy 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 ftrange 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 fhow their teeth in way
"Though Neftor fwear the jeft be laughable."
Enter Baffanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano.
Sal. Here come Baffanio, your most noble kinfman, Gratiano and Lorenzo: fare ye well;
We leave ye 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.
Baff. Good Signiors both, when fhall we laugh? fay,
You grow exceeding ftrange; muft it be fo?
Sal. We'll make our leifures to attend on yours.
Sola. My Lord Baffanio, fince you've found Anthonio,
We two will leave you; but at dinner-time,
1 pray you have in mind where we must meet.
Bal. I will not fail you. [Exeunt Solar, and Sola,
Gra. You look not well, Signior Anthonio;
You have too much refpect upon the world:
They lose 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 a fad one.
Gra. Let me play the fool;
With mirth, and laughter, let old wrinkles come;
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, whose visages "Do cream and mantle like a standing pond; "And do a wilful ftillness entertain.
"With purpose to be drefs'd in an opinion
"Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;
"As who fhould 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;" who, I'm very fure,
If they fhould fpeak, would almoft damn those ears,
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools *.
I'll tell thee more of this another time:
But fifh not with this melancholy bait,
For this fool 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 dinner-time.
I must be one of thefe fame dumb wife men;
For Gratiano never lets me speak.
Gra. Well, keep me company but two years more,
Thou shalt not know the found of thine own tongue:
Anth. Farewell; 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?
Baff. Gratiano fpeaks an infinite deal of nothing. more
in all Venice: his reafons are as two grains
any man
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 fearch.
Anth. 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?
Ba. Tis unknown to you, Anthonio,
How much I have difabled mine eftate,
By fhewing fomething a more fwelling port,
Than my faint means would grant continuance;
Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd
From fuch a noble rate; but
Is to come fairly off from the great debts,
Alluding to what is faid in the gospel, that whosoever shall fay
o his brother, Thou fool, fhall be in danger of hell-fire.
Wherein my time, fomething too prodigal,
Hath left me gaged: to you, Anthonio,
I owe the most in money, and in love;
And from your love I have a warranty
T'unburthen all my plots and purposes,
How to get clear of all the debts I owe.
Anth. I pray you, good Baffanio, let me know it:
And if it ftand, as you yourself still do,
Within the eye of honour, be affur'd,
My purfe, my person, my extremeft means,
Lie all unlock'd to your occafions.
Baff. In my fchool-days, when I had loft one fhaft,
I thot 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 witless youth,
That which I owe is loft; but if you please
To fhoot another arrow that felf way
Which you did fhoot the firft, 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 time, To wind about my love with circumstance;
And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong,
In making queftion of my uttermoft,
Than if you had made wafte of all I have.
Then do but say to me, what I fhould do,
That in your knowledge may by me be done,
And I am prefs'd unto it; therefore, speak.
Baff. In Belmont is a lady richly left,
And fhe is fair, and, fairer than that word,
Of wond'rous virtues. Some time from her eyes
I did receive fair fpeechlefs 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 every coast
Renowned fuitors; and her funny locks
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece;
Which makes her feat of Belmont, Colchos' ftrond;
And many Jafons come in queft of her.
O my Anthonio, had I but the means
To hold a rival place with one of them,
I have a mind presages me fuch thrift *,
That I fhould questionless be fortunate.
Anth. Thou know'ft, that all my fortunes are at sea, Nor have I money, nor commodity
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 I,
Where money is; and I no queftion make,
To have it of my truft, or for my fake.
SCENE II. Changes to Belmont.
Three cafkets are fet out, one of gold, another of filver, and another of lead.
Enter Portia and Neriffa.
Por. By my troth, Neriffa, my little body is weary of this great world.
Ner. You would be, fweet Madam, if your miferies were in the fame abundance as your good fortunes are; and yet, for aught 1 fee, they are as fick that surfeit with too much, as they that tarve with nothing: therefore it is no mean happiness to be feated in the mean; fuperfluity 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 mens' cottages princes' palaces. He is a good divine that follows his own inftructions: I can eafier teach twenty what were good to be done, than to be one of the twenty to follow my own teaching. The brain may devife laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps o'er
Thrift, for thriving. Mr. Pope.
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