That I have much ado to know myself.

SALAR. Your mind is tossing on the ocean; There where your argosies," with portly sail,Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea,

Do overpeer the petty traffickers,

That curt'sy to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.
SOLAN. Believe me, sir, had I such venture
forth,

The better part of my affections would

Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
Plucking the grass," to know where sits 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 sad.

SALAR.
My wind, cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great might do at sea.
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
But I should think of shallows and of flats;
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd* in sand,
Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs,
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church,
And see the holy edifice of stone,

с

And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks,
Which, touching but my gentle vessel's side,
Would scatter all her spices on the stream,
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks,
And, in a word, but even now worth this,
And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought
To think on this; and shall I lack the thought
That such a thing, bechanc'd, would make me
sad?

But tell not me; I know, Antonio

Is sad to think upon his merchandise.

ANT. 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 present year:
Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad.
SALAR. Why, then you are in love.
ANT.
SALAR. Not in love neither? Then let us say,

you are sad

Fie, fie!

Because you are not merry: and 't were as easy For you to laugh, and leap, and say you are merry, Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus,

Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time:

(*) Old text, docks.

a There where your argosies,-] Argosies were ships of huge bulk and burden, adapted either for commerce or war, and supposed to have been named from the classic ship Argo.

bPlucking the grass, to know where sits the wind;] A blade of grass held up to indicate, by the way it bends, the direction of

SALAR. Good morrow, my good lords. BASS. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say, when?

You grow exceeding strange: must it be so? SALAR. We'll make our leisures to attend on

I

yours. [Exeunt SALARINO and SOLANIO. LOR. My lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio,

We two will leave you; but at dinner-time, pray you have in mind where we must meet. BASS. I will not fail you.

GRA. You look not well, signior Antonio; 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.

ANT. I hold the world but as the world,
Gratiano;

A stage, where every man must play a part,
And mine a sad 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 grandsire cut in alabaster?

Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice
By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,-
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks ;-
There are a sort of men, whose visages
Do cream and mantle like a standing pond;
And do a wilful stillness entertain,
With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;

the wind, is a very primitive kind of weather vane. Sailors, with whom grass is usually harder to come by than even to Venetians, adopt one equally simple and always at hand: they moisten a finger in the mouth, and holding it up, judge by a sensible coldness on one side the digit, whence the wind blows.

My wealthy Andrew-] This name for a ship, it is not unlikely, was derived from the famous naval hero, Andrew Doria.

As who should say, I am sir Oracle,*
And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!
O, my Antonio, I do know of these,
That therefore only are reputed wise,
For saying nothing; who,† I am very sure,

If they should speak, would almost damn those

ears

Which, hearing them, would call their brothers, fools.

I'll tell thee more of this another time:
But fish 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 dinnertime:

I must be one of these same dumb wise men,
For Gratiano never lets me speak.

GRA. Well, keep me company but two years

more,

Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.

ANT. Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear. GRA. Thanks, i' faith; for silence is only commendable

In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. [Exeunt GRATIANO and LORENZO.

ANT. Is that anything now? BASS. Gratiano speaks 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.

ANT. Well; tell me now, what lady is the same To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, That you to-day promis'd to tell me of?

BASS. "Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, How much I have disabled mine estate,

(*) First folio, sir, an oracle. (1) First folio, far you well.

(†) Old copies, when.
(§) Old copies, it is.
() First folio omits, as.

a If they should speak, would almost damn those ears
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers, fools.]

The meaning seems to be: There are people whose reputation for
wisdom depends upon their purposed silence, who, if they could
be brought to speak, would so expose their emptiness, that the
hearers could hardly escape the penalty denounced on those who
call their brethren fools; but the idea is not clearly expressed.
b A more swelling port-] A more ostentatious state. See note
(b), p. 235.

As you yourself still do,-] That is, always, ever do. This signification of the word is frequent in Shakespeare, although no commentator that I remember has noticed it.

"To find forth," says an accomplished critic on the language of Shakespeare, "may, I apprehend, be safely pronounced to be neither English nor sense." It may not be English of the present day, but it was thought good sense and good English in the time of our author. Forth here means out,-"To find the other out," and with this import the word is used in the following, and in a hundred other, instances.

"Who, falling there to find his fellow forth."
Comedy of Errors, Act I. Sc. 2.

By something showing 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, something too prodigal,
Hath left me gag'd. To you, Antonio,
I owe the most in money and in love;
And from your love I have a warranty
To unburthen all my plots and purposes,
How to get clear of all the debts I owe.

C

[it; ANT. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know And, if it stand, as you yourself still do, Within the eye of honour, be assur’d, My purse, my person, my extremest means, Lie all unlock'd to your occasions.

BASS. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft,

d

I shot his fellow of the self-same flight
The self-same way, with more advised watch,
To find the other forth; and by adventuring both
I oft found both: (1) 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 lost: but if you please
To shoot 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.
ANT. You know me well, and herein spend but
time,

To wind about my love with circumstance;"
And, out of doubt, do me now
you
* 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 should do,
That in your knowledge may by me be done,
And I am prest unto it: therefore speak.

(*) First folio omits, me now.

Where we have again the identical expression, "find forth." "Go on before; I shall inquire you forth." Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act II. Sc. 4. -for at this time the jealous rascally knave, her husband, will be forth."-Merry Wives of Windsor, Act II. Sc. 2. And already in this very play,

"Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth."

e To wind about my love with circumstance;] Circumstance, for circumlocution, or "going about the bush," as the old lexicographers define it, though in common use formerly, has now become quite obsolete :

"Therefore it must, with circumstance, be spoken-"
Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act III. Sc. 2.
"And not without some scandal to yourself,
With circumstance and oaths, so to deny
This chain."-The Comedy of Errors, Act V. Sc. 1.
"And so, without more circumstance at all,
I hold it fit that we shake hands and part."
Hamlet, Act I. Sc. 5.

f And I am prest unto it:] Prest, signifying ready, is, as Steevens remarks, of common occurrence in the old writers; but it may be doubted whether in this instance the word is not used in the current sense of bound or urged.

BASS. In Belmont is a lady richly left,
And she is fair, and, fairer than that word,
Of wondrous virtues. Sometimes from her eyes
I did receive fair speechless messages:
Her name is Portia; nothing undervalued
To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia.

Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth;
For the four winds blow in from every coast
Renowned suitors: and her sunny locks
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece;
Which makes her seat of Belmont, Colchos'
strand,

[sea;

And many Jasons come in quest of her.
O, my Antonio! had I but the means
To hold a rival place with one of them,
I have a mind presages me such thrift,
That I should questionless be fortunate.
ANT. Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at
Neither have I money, nor commodity
To raise a present sum: therefore go forth,
Try what my credit can in Venice do ;
That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost,
To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia.
Go, presently inquire, and so will I,
Where money is; and I no question make,
To have it of my trust, or for my sake. [Exeunt.

POR. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is a-weary of this great world.

NER. You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are; and yet, for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing. It is no mean* happiness, therefore, to be seated in the mean; superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer.

POR. Good sentences, and well pronounced. NER. They would be better, if well followed. POR. If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions: I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than 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

(*) First folio, small.

Sometimes.] Sometimes here means, formerly, in other times. b He hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian;] This satirical allusion to our ignorance in "the tongues" has not yet lost all its point.

meshes of good counsel the cripple. But this reasoning* is not in the fashion to choose me a husband:-O me, the word choose! I may neither choose whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curbed by the will of a dead father:-Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none?

NER. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men at their death have good inspirations; therefore, the lottery that he hath devised in these three chests, of gold, silver, and lead, (whereof who chooses his meaning chooses you,) will, no doubt, never be chosen by any rightly, but one who you shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these princely suitors that are already come?

POR. I pray thee, overname them; and as thou namest them I will describe them; and according to my description level at my affection.

NER. First, there is the Neapolitan prince.

POR. Ay, that's a colt, indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse; and he makes it a great appropriation to his own good parts that he can shoe him himself: I am much afraid my lady his mother played false with a smith.

NER. Then, is there the county Palatine.(2)

POR. He doth nothing but frown; as who should say, An you will not have me, choose; he hears merry tales, and smiles not: I fear he will prove the weeping philosopher when he grows old, being so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had rather be § married to a death's head with a bone in his mouth, than to either of these. God defend me from these two!

NER. How say you by the French lord, monsieur le Bon?

POR. God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker; but he! why, he hath a horse better than the Neapolitan's; a better bad habit of frowning than the count Palatine: he is every man in no man: if a throstle || sing he falls straight a capering; he will fence with his own shadow: if I should marry him I should marry twenty husbands if he would despise me I would forgive him; for if he love me to madness I shall never requite him.

NER. What say you then to Fauconbridge, the young baron of England?

POR. You know I say nothing to him; for he understands not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian ;" and you will come into the court, and swear that I have a poor

pennyworth in the English. He is a proper man's picture; but, alas! who can converse with a dumb show? How oddly he is suited! I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour everywhere.

NER. What think you of the Scottish lord," his neighbour?

POR. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him; for he borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman, and swore he would pay him again when he was able: I think the Frenchman became his surety, and sealed under for another.

NER. How like you the young German, the duke of Saxony's nephew?

POR. Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober; and most vilely in the afternoon, when he is drunk: when he is best, he is a little worse than a man; and when he is worst, he is little better than a beast: an the worst fall that ever fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without him.

NER. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right casket, you should refuse to perform your father's will, if you should refuse to accept him.

POR. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary casket; for, if the devil be within, and that temptation without, I know he will choose it. I will do anything, Nerissa, ere I will be married to a sponge.

NER. You need not fear, lady, the having any of these lords: they have acquainted me with their determinations: which is, indeed, to return to their home, and to trouble you with no more suit; unless you may be won by some other sort than your father's imposition, depending on the caskets.

POR. If I live to be as old as Sibylla I will die as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner of my father's will. I am glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonable; for there is not one among them but I dote on his very absence, and I pray God grant them a fair departure.

NER. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a Venetian, a scholar and a soldier, that came hither in company of the marquis of Montferrat?

POR. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, so was he called.

a A proper man's picture;] Proper meant handsome, comely. The word with this import is so common, that it is needless to give examples; they may be found in every play of the time.

b The Scottish lord,-] So the quartos, which were printed before the accession of James I. The folio, 1623, reads, "the other lord," to avoid giving offence to the king and his countrymen.

e I pray God grant them-] The first folio, in obedience to the Act passed in the reign of James I. prohibiting the profane use of holy names, has, "I wish them a fair departure."

4 The condition of a saint,-] Condition for, nature, disposition, as in "Richard III." Act IV. Sc. 4:

NER. True, madam; he, of all the men that ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady.

POR. I remember him well; and I remember him worthy of thy praise.

Enter a Servant.

How now! what news?*

SERV. The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take their leave: and there is a forerunner come from a fifth, the prince of Morocco; who brings word, the prince, his master, will be here to-night.

POR. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I should be glad of his approach: if he have the condition of a saint, and the complexion of a devil, I had rather he should shrive me than wive me. Come, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before;

Whiles we shut the gate upon one wooer, another knocks at the door. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.-Venice. A Public Place.

Enter BASSANIO and SHYLOCK.(3)

SHY. Three thousand ducats,-well.
BASS. Ay, sir, for three months.
SHY. For three months,well.

BASS. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound.

SHY. Antonio shall become bound,-well.
BASS. May you stead me? Will you pleasure
Shall I know your answer?

me?

SHY. Three thousand ducats, for three months, and Antonio bound.

BASS. Your answer to that.

SHY. Antonio is a good man. BASS. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary?

SHY. Ho! no, no, no, no;-my meaning in saying he is a good man, is, to have you understand me that he is sufficient: yet his means are in supposition: he hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies; I understand moreover upon the Rialto, he hath a third at