Be with my hopes abroad. I fhould be still
Plucking the graffe, to know where fits the winde,

*

Piering in maps, for ports, for † peeres and rodes;

And every obiect that might make me feare

Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt
Would make me fad

Salar. My winde cooling my broth,

Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harme a winde too great at sea, might do. ‡
I should not fee the fandy howre-glasse runne,
But I should thinke of fhallowes, and of flats,
And fee my wealthy Andrew dockes in fand,
Veyling her high top lower then her ribs,
To kiffe her buriall. Should I go to church,
And fee the holy edifice of stone,

And not bethinke me ftraight of dangerous rockes,
Which touching but my gentle vessels fide,
Would fcatter all the § fpices on the streame,
Enrobe the roaring waters with my filkes;
And in a word, but euen now worth this,
And now worth nothing? fhall I haue the thought
To thinke on this, and fhall I lacke the thought,
That fuch a thing be-chanc'd would make me fad ?
But tell not me, I know Anthonio

Is fad to thinke vpon his merchandize.

Anth. Beleeue me no: I thanke my fortune for it,
My ventures are not in one bottome trusted,
Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
Vpon the fortune of this present yeare:

Therefore my merchandize makes me not fad.
Salar. Then y'are in loue.

Salar. Not in loue neither? then let vs fay you are fad,
Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easie

For you to laugh and leape, and fay you are merry,
Because you are not fad. Now by two-headed Ianus,
Nature hath fram'd strange fellowes in her time :
Some that will euermore peepe through their eies,
And laugh like parrats at a bag-piper.
And other of such vinegar afpect,

That they'l not fhew their teeth in way of fmile,
Though Neftor fweare the ieft be laughable.

Enter Baffanio, Lorenfo, and Gratiano.

Salan. Here comes Bassanio your most noble kinfman, Gratiano and Lorenfo: faryewell,

We leaue you now with better company.

Salar. I would haue ftaide till I had made you merry, If worthier friends had not preuented me.

Anth. Your worth is very deere in my regard.

I take it your owne bufineffe cals on you,
And you embrace the occafion* to depart.

Salar. Good morrow my good lords.

Baff. Good figniors both, when shall we laugh? fay, when? You grow exceeding ftrange: must it be fo?

Salar. Wee'l make our leyfures to attend on yours.

Exeunt Salarino and Salanio.

Lor. My lord Baffanio, fince you haue found Anthonio,

We two will leaue you; but at dinner time

I pray you haue in minde where we must meete.

Baff. I will not faile you.

Exit,

Grat. You looke not well fignior Anthonio, You have too much respect vpon the world :

They loose it that do buy it with much care,
Beleeue me you are meruailously chang'd.

Ant. I hold the world but as the world Gratiano,
A stage, where euery one* must play a part,
And mine a fad one.

Gra. Let me play the foole,

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come,
And let my liuer rather heate with wine,

Then my heart coole with mortifying grones.
Why should a man whofe blood is warme within,
Sit like his grandfire cut in alablaster ?

Sleepe when he wakes? and creepe into the iaundies

By being peeuish? I tell thee what Anthonio,
I loue thee, and tis my loue that speakes.
There are a fort of men, whose visages

Doe dreame† and mantle like a standing pond,
And do a wilfull ftilneffe entertaine,
With purpose to be dreft in an opinion
Of wifedome, grauity, profound conceit,
As who should fay, I am fir oracle,"
And when I ope my lips, let no dog barke.
O my Anthonio, I do know of thofe
That therefore onely are reputed wife

For faying nothing; when I am very fure

If they should speake, would almost dam § thofe eares,
Which hearing them would call their brothers fooles,
Ile tell thee more of this another time.

But fish not with this melancholy baite,
For this foole gudgin, this opinion:
Come good Lorenzo, farwell || a while,
Ile end my exhortation after dinner.

Loren. Well, we will leaue you then till dinner time.

* man. † creame. these. § dant.

fare ye well.

I must be one of these same dumbe wife men,
For Gratiano neuer lets me speake.

Gra. Well, keepe me company but two yeares moe,
Thou shalt not know the found of thine owne tongue.
An. Farwell, Ile grow a talker for this geare.
Gra. Thanks ifaith, for filence is onely commendable
In a neats tongue dried, and a maide not vendable.

An. It is that any thing now.

Exeunt.

Baff. Gratiano fpeakes an infinite deale of nothing more then any man in all Venice, his reafons are as two graines of wheate hid in two bushels of chaffe: you shall feeke all day ere you finde them, and when you haue them, they are not worth the fearch.

Ant. Well, tell me now what lady is the fame

To whom you swore a fecret pilgrimage,

That you to day promifd to tell me of.

Baff. Tis not vnknowne to you Anthonio,
How much I haue difabled mine estate,
By something fhewing a more fwelling port,
Then my faint meanes would grant continuance :
Nor do I now make moane to be abridg'd
From fuch a noble rate, but my cheefe care
Is to come fairely off from the great debts
Wherein my time fomething too prodigall
Hath left me gag'd: to you Anthonio,
I owe the most in money and in loue,
And from your loue I haue a warranty
To vnburthen all my plots and purposes
How to get cleere of all the debts I owe.

Antho. I pray you good Baffanio, let me know it,
And if it stand as you your felfe ftill do,

Within the eye of honour, be affured

My purse, my perfon, my extremeft meanes
Lie ali vnlockt to your occafions.

Baff. In my fchoole dayes, when I had lost one shaft, I fhot his fellow of the felfe-fame flight

The felfe-fame way, with more aduised watch

To finde the other foorth, and by aduentring both,
I oft found both: I vrge this child-hood proofe,
Because what followes, is pure innocence.
I owe you much, and like a wilfull youth,
That which I owe is loft, but if you please
To shoote another arrow that felfe way
Which you did fhoote the firft, I do not doubt,
As I will watch the ayme or to finde both,
Or bring your latter hazard backe againe,
And thankfully reft debter for the first.

Ant. You know me well, and heerein spend but time

To winde about my loue with circumftance,

And out of doubt you do me now more wrong,

In making question of my vttermost,

Then if you had made waste of all I haue :
Then do but fay to me, what I should do,
That in your knowledge may by me be done,
And I am preft vnto it, therefore speake.

Baff. In Belmont is a lady richly left,
And she is faire, and fairer then that word,
Of wondrous vertues. Sometimes from her eyes
I did receive faire fpeechleffe meffages:
Her name is Portia ; nothing vnder-valew'd
To Catos daughter, Brutus Portia.

Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth,
For the foure winds blow in from euery coaft
Renowned futors, and her funny lockes
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece,