LORENZO, in love with Jessica. SHYLOCK, a Jew. TUBAL, a Jew, his friend. LAUNCELOT GOвво, a clown, servant to Shylock. OLD GOBBO, father to Launcelot. SALERIO, a messenger from Venice. LEONARDO, servant to Bassanio. Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the court of justice, Jailer, Servants, and other Attendants. SCENE, partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the seat of Portia, on the continent. MERCHANT OF VENICE. ACT I. SCENE I. Venice. A street. Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SALANIO. Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad: And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, 1 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 curtsy to them, do them reverence, 1 Ships of large burden. Salan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, The better part of my affections would Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still Salar. My wind, cooling my broth, And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks ; And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought Is sad to think upon his merchandise. Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it, 1 Lowering. My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. Ant. Fie, fie! Salan. Not in love neither? Then let's say, you are sad, Because you are not merry; and 'twere as easy Janus, Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time : of smile, Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO. Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare you well: We leave you now with better company. Salar. I would have stay'd till I had made you merry, If worthier friends had not prevented me. Salar. Good morrow, my good lords. Bas. 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 [Exeunt Salarino and Salanio. Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found An yours. tonio, We two will leave you; but, at dinner-time, Gra. You look not well, signior Antonio : Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gra tiano ; 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; Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sleep when he wakes; and creep into the jaundice |