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The Merchant of Venice (Folio 1, 1623)
The Merchant of Venice.
1Actus primus.
2Enter Anthonio, Salarino, and Salanio.
3Anthonio.
5It wearies me: you say it wearies you;
6But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
9mee,
10That I haue much ado to know my selfe.
13Like Signiors and rich Burgers on the flood,
14Or as it were the Pageants of the sea,
15Do ouer-peere the pettie Traffiquers
16That curtsie to them, do them reuerence
17As they flye by them with their wouen wings.
22Peering in Maps for ports, and peers, and rodes:
23And euery obiect that might make me feare
24Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt
25Would make me sad.
26Sal. My winde cooling my broth,
27Would blow me to an Ague, when I thought
28What harme a winde too great might doe at sea.
32Vailing her high top lower then her ribs
35And not bethinke me straight of dangerous rocks,
38Enrobe the roring waters with my silkes,
39And in a word, but euen now worth this,
40And now worth nothing. Shall I haue the thought
41To thinke on this, and shall I lacke the thought
43But tell not me, I know Anthonio
44Is sad to thinke vpon his merchandize.
45Anth. Beleeue me no, I thanke my fortune for it,
46My ventures are not in one bottome trusted,
47Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
48Vpon the fortune of this present yeere:
49Therefore my merchandize makes me not sad.
50Sola. Why then you are in loue.
54For you to laugh and leape, and say you are merry
56Nature hath fram'd strange fellowes in her time:
57Some that will euermore peepe through their eyes,
58And laugh like Parrats at a bag-piper.
62Enter Bassanio, Lorenso, and Gratiano.
65Gratiano, and Lorenso. Faryewell,
66We leaue you now with better company.
68If worthier friends had not preuented me.
69Ant. Your worth is very deere in my regard.
70I take it your owne busines calls on you,
71And you embrace th' occasion to depart.
72Sal. Good morrow my good Lords.
76 Exeunt Salarino, and Solanio.
78We two will leaue you, but at dinner time
79I pray you haue in minde where we must meete.
80Bass. I will not faile you.
83They loose it that doe buy it with much care,
84Beleeue me you are maruellously chang'd.
85Ant. I hold the world but as the world Gratiano,
87And mine a sad one.
88Grati. Let me play the foole,
89With mirth and laughter let old wrinckles come,
90And let my Liuer rather heate with wine,
91Then my heart coole with mortifying grones.
94Sleepe when he wakes? and creep into the Iaundies
162The Merchant of Venice.
95By being peeuish? I tell thee what Anthonio,
96I loue thee, and it is my loue that speakes:
98Do creame and mantle like a standing pond,
101Of wisedome, grauity, profound conceit,
103And when I ope my lips, let no dogge barke.
104O my Anthonio, I do know of these
105That therefore onely are reputed wise,
108Which hearing them would call their brothers fooles:
109Ile tell thee more of this another time.
111For this foole Gudgin, this opinion:
112Come good Lorenzo, faryewell a while,
113Ile end my exhortation after dinner.
114Lor. Well, we will leaue you then till dinner time.
116For Gratiano neuer let's me speake.
117Gra. Well, keepe me company but two yeares mo,
119Ant. Far you well, Ile grow a talker for this geare.
121In a neats tongue dri'd, and a maid not vendible. Exit.
122Ant. It is that any thing now.
124more then any man in all Venice, his reasons are two
127they are not worth the search.
130That you to day promis'd to tel me of?
131Bas. Tis not vnknowne to you Anthonio
134Then my faint meanes would grant continuance:
135Nor do I now make mone to be abridg'd
136From such a noble rate, but my cheefe care
137Is to come fairely off from the great debts
138Wherein my time something too prodigall
139Hath left me gag'd: to you Anthonio
140I owe the most in money, and in loue,
141And from your loue I haue a warrantie
142To vnburthen all my plots and purposes,
143How to get cleere of all the debts I owe.
146Within the eye of honour, be assur'd
148Lye all vnlock'd to your occasions.
152To finde the other forth, and by aduenturing both,
153I oft found both. I vrge this child-hoode proofe,
154Because what followes is pure innocence.
155I owe you much, and like a wilfull youth,
159As I will watch the ayme: Or to finde both,
160Or bring your latter hazard backe againe,
163To winde about my loue with circumstance,
164And out of doubt you doe more wrong
166Then if you had made waste of all I haue:
168That in your knowledge may by me be done,
170Bass. In Belmont is a Lady richly left,
171And she is faire, and fairer then that word,
172Of wondrous vertues, sometimes from her eyes
174Her name is Portia, nothing vndervallewd
175To Cato's daughter, Brutus Portia,
176Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth,
177For the foure windes blow in from euery coast
179Hang on her temples like a golden fleece,
182O my Anthonio, had I but the meanes
183To hold a riuall place with one of them,
187Neither haue I money, nor commodity
189Try what my credit can in Venice doe,
191To furnish thee to Belmont to faire Portia.
193Where money is, and I no question make