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 the Occasion to depart.
Sal. Good Morrow, my good Lords.

Baff. Good Signiors both, when shall we laugh? say when?

You grow exceeding strange; must it be fo?

Sal. We'll make our Leisures to attend on yours.

Sola. My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Anthonia,

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.

[Exeunt Solar. and Sala.

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, Gratiane;
A Stage 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 Grcans:
Why should a Man, whose Blood is warm within,
Sit like his Grandfire cut in Alablaster ?
Sleep when he walkes, and creep into the Jaundies
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 Stilness entertain,

With purpose to be drest in an Oponion
Of Wisdom, Gravity, profound Conceit,
As who should say, I am, Sir, an Oracle;
And when I ope my Lips, let no Dog bark.
O my Anthonio, I do know of these,
That therefore only are reputed Wife,
For saying nothing; who I am very fure,

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 melancholly 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 these same dumb wife 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.
Anth. Fare you well; I'll grow a Talker for this Gear.
Gra. Thanks i'faith; for Silence is only commendable
In a Neats Tongue dry'd, and a Maid not vendible. [Exit.
Anth. Is that any thing now ?

Baff. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any Man in all Venice: his Reasons are two Grains of Wheat hid in two Bushels of Chaff; you may seek all Day e'er you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the Search.

Anth. Well; tell me now what Lady is the same
To whom you fwore a secret Pilgrimage,
That you to Day promis'd to tell me of ?

Baff. 'Tis not unknown to you, Anthonio,
How much I have disabled mine Estate,
By something shewing a more swelling Port
Than my faint Means would grant continuance to;
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, Anthonio,
I owe the most in Mony, 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.
Anth. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it,

And if it stands as you your felf ftill do,
Within the Eye of Horour, be affur'd
My Purse, my Person, my extreamest Means

Lye all unlock'd to your Occafions.

Baff.

Baff. In my School-Days, when I had lost one Shaft,
I shot his Fellow of the self-fame Flight
The self-fame way, with more advised Watch,
To find the other forth; and by adventuring both,
I oft found both. I urge this Child-hood 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.

Anth. You know me well, and herein spend but Time
To wind about my Love with Circumstance;
And out of doubt you do to me more Wrong,
In making Question of my uttermoft,
Than if you had made waste of all I have :
Then do but say to me, what should I do,
That in your Knowledge may by me be done,
And I am prest unto it: Therefore speak.

Baff. 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 undervalu'd
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 Sutors; and her funny Locks
Hang on her Temples like a golden Fleece,
Which makes her Seat of Belmont Cholchos Strond,
And many Jasons come in quest 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 such Thrift,
That I should questionless be fortunate.

:

Anth. Thou know'st that all my Fortunes are at Sea,

Neither have I Mony, nor Commodity
To raise a present Sum? therefore go forth,
Try what my Credit can in Venice do;

VOL. II.

F

That

That shall be rack'd even to the uttermoft,
To furnish thee to Belmont to fair Portia:
Go presently enquire, and so will I,
Where Mony is, and I no question make
To have it of my Trust, or for my lake.

SCENE II.

[Exeunt.

Belmont.

Three Caskets are set out, one of Gold, another of Silver,

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, sweet Madam, if your Miseries were in the same Abundance as your good Fortunes are; and yet, for ought I see,thay are as fick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing; therefore it is no small Happiness to be seated in the Mean; Superfluity comes sooner by white Hairs, but Competency lives longer. Por. Good Sentences, and well pronounc'd. Ner. They would be better, if well follow'd.

Por. If to do were as easie as to know what were good to do, Chappels had been Churches, and poor Mens 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 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 Reason is not in Fashion to chuse me a Husband: O me, the Word chuse! I may neither chuse whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike, so is the Will of a living Daughter curb'd by the Will of a dead Father: Is it not hard, Neriffa, that I cannot chuse 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 chuses his Meaning, chuses 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 Suters that are already come?

Por

fo

Por. I pray thee over-name them, and as thou nam'st them, I will describe them, and according to my Descripti on, 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 shoo him himself: I am much afraid my Lady his Mother plaid falfe with a Smith.

Ner. Then is there the County Palentine.

Por. He doth nothing but frown, as who should say, and you will not have me, chuse: He hears merry Tales and smiles not, I fear he will prove the weeping Philofopher when he grows old, being so full of unmannerly Sadness in his Youth. I had rather to 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, Monfieur Le Boun?

Por. God made him, and therefore let him pass for a Man; in truth I know it is 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 Palentine, he is every Man in no Man, if a Tassel fing, he falls straight a Capring; he will fence with his own Shadow; if I should marry him, I should marry twenty Husbands; if he would defpife me, I would forgive him, for if he love me to Madness, I should 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 Penny-worth in English; he is a proper Man's Picture, but alas who can converse with a dumb Show? How odly he is suited! I think he bought his Doublet in Italy, his round Hose in France, his Bonnet in Germany, and his Behaviour every where.

Ner. What think you of the other Lord his / Neigh

bour?