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 show their teeth in way of smile,
Though Neftor fwear the jeft be laughable.

Enter Baffanio, 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 staid '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 business 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 when? You grow exceeding strange; 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,

I pray you have in mind where we must meet.

Baff. I will not fail you.

Gra. You look not well, Signior Anthonio;
You have too much respect 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 stage where every man must play his part
And mine a fad one.

[Exeunt Solar. and Sala.

Gra.

Gra. Let me play the fool

With mirth and laughter; let old wrinkles come,
And let my liver rather heat with wine,
'Than heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why should a man, whofe blood is warm within,
Sit like his grandfire cut in Alabafter?

my

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 visages
Do cream and mantle like a standing pond,
And do a wilful stilness entertain,
With purpose to be drest 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 Anthonie, I do know of those,
That therefore only are reputed wise,
For faying nothing; who I'm very sure,

If they should speak, would almost † damm those ears,
Which hearing them, would call their brothers fools.
I'll tell thee more of this another time:

But fish not with this melancholly 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 dinner-time.

I must be one of these 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. Fare well; I'll grow a talker for this gear.

+ daunt.

Gra.

Gra. Thanks i' faith; for filence is only commendable
In a neats tongue dry'd, and a maid not vendible.
Anth. Is that any thing now?

[Exit.

Baff. 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 shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the search.

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?

Ball. 'Tis not unknown to you, Anthonio,
How much I have disabled mine estate,
By fhewing something a more swelling port
Than my faint means would grant continuance;
Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd
From such 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 gag'd: to you, Anthonio,
I owe the most in mony, 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 Bassanio let me know it,
And if it stand as you your self still do,
Within the eye of honour, be affur'd
My purse, my perfon, my extreamest means
Lye all unlock'd to your occafions.

Baff. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, I fhot his fellow of the self-fame flight

The self-fame way, with more advised watch,

To find the other forth; by ventring both,
I oft found both. I urge this child-hood proof,

VOL. II.

B

Because

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 fhoot another arrow that self way
Which you did shoot 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 rest debtor for the first.

Anth. You know me well, and herein spend but time To wind about my love with circumftance;

And out of doubt you do me now more wrong,

In making question of my uttermost,

Than if you had made waste 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 preft unto it: therefore fpeak.

Baff. In Belmont is a lady richly left,
And he is fair, and fairer than that word,
Of wond'rous virtues; fometimes 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 every coast
Renowned futors; and her funny locks
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece,
Which makes her feat of Belmont, Cholchos 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 prefages me fuch thrift,
That I should queftionless be fortunate.

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

thrift, for thriving.

Nor

Nor have I mony, 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 enquire, and fo will I,
Where mony is, and I no question make
To have it of my truft, or for my fake.

Por BY

Y my troth,
great world.

SCENE II.

Belmont.

Three Caskets are fet out, one of gold, another of filver, and

another of lead.

Enter Portia and Neriffa.

Neriffa, my little body is weary of this

[Exeunt.

Ner. You would be, fweet 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 starve with nothing; therefore it is no small happiness to be seated 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 eafie as to know what were good to do, chappels had been churches, and poor mens cottages Princes palaces. He is a good divine that follows his own inftructions; I can cafier teach twenty what were good to be done, than to be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree; such a hare is madness the youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the cripple. But this reasoning is not in fashion to chufe

B 2

me

• reason.