LAUNCELOT, a clown, fervant to the Jew. GOBBO, father to Launcelot. Senators of Venice, officers, jailer, fervants and other attendants. SCENE, partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the feat of Portia. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. ACT I SCENE I. I A ftreet in Venice. Enter Anthonio, Solarino, and Salanio. 'N footh, I know not why I am so sad: It wearies me; you fay, it wearies you; And fuch a want-wit fadness makes of me, SAL. Your mind is toffing on the ocean; That curtfie to them, do them reverence, As they fly by them with their woven wings. SAL. My wind, cooling my broth, And not bethink me ftraight of dang 'rous rocks And now worth nothing. Shall I have the thought, Is fad to think upon his merchandize. ANTH. 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 eftate Upon the fortune of the prefent year: Therefore, my merchandize makes me not fad. ANTH. Fie, fie! SOLA. Not in love neither! then let's fay, you're fad, Because you are not merry; and 'twere as ealy For you to laugh and leap, and fay, you're merry, Because you are not fad. Now by two-headed Janus, Nature hath fram'd ftrange fellows in her time: Some that will evermore peep through their eyes, And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper; That they'll not fhew their teeth in way of fmile, Though Neftor swear, the jest be laughable. Enter Baffanio, Lorenzo and Gratianó. SAL. Here comes Baffanio, your most noble kinsman, SOLA. I would have ftaid 'till I had made you merry, ANTH. Your worth is very dear in my regard. BASS. Good figniors both, when shall we laugh? fay, when? You grow exceeding strange; must 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. BASS. I will not fail you. [Exeunt Solar. and Sala. GRA. You look not well, fignior Anthonio; You have too much refpect upon the world: They lofe it, that do buy it with much care. Believe me, you are marvelously chang'd. ANTH. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano, A ftage, 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 groans. |