Anth. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano, A ftage, where every man muft play his part, And mine a fad one. Gra. Let me play the Fool; (6) With mirth, and laughter, let old wrinkles come; Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice For faying nothing; who, I'm very fure, If they fhould fpeak, would almoft damn thofe ears, (7) (6) Let me play the Fool Alluding to the common comparison of human life to a stage play. So that he d. fires his may be the for's or buffoon's part, which was a conftant character in the old farces: From whence came the phrafe, to play the Fool. WARBURTON. (7) would almoft damn thofe Ears.] Several old Editions have it, dam, damme, and daunt. Some more correct Copies, damn. The Author's Meaning is this; That fome People are thought wife, whilft they keep Silence; who, when they open their mouths, are fuch ftupid Praters, that their Hearers cannot help calling them Fols, and fo incur the Judgment denounc'd in the Gospel. THEOBALD. ти I'll end my exhortation after dinner. (8) Lor. Well, we will leave you then 'till dinner-time. I must be one of thefe fame dumb wife men; For Gratiano never lets me fpeak. Gra. Well, keep me company but two years more, Thou shalt not know the found of thine own tongue. Anth. Fare well; I'll grow a talker for this gear. Gra. Thanks, i'faith; for filence is only commend able In a neat's tongue dry'd, and a maid not vendible. [Exeunt Gra. and Loren. Anth. Is that any thing now? (9) Ball Gratiano fpeaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice his reafons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; you fhall feek all day ere you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the fearch. Anth. Well, tell me now, what lady is the fame, To whom you fwore a fecret pilgrimage, That you to day promis'd to tell me of? Baj. 'Tis not unknown to you, Anthonio, How much I have disabled mine eftate, By fhewing fomething a more swelling port, Than my faint means would grant continuance; Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd From fuch a noble rate; but my chief care Is to come fairly off from the great debts, Wherein my time, fomething too prodigal, Hath left me gaged. To you, Anthonis, I owe the most in mony, and in love; And from your love I have a warranty T' unburthen all my plots and purposes, How to get clear of all the debts I owe. Anıb. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; (8) T'll end my exhortation after dinne] The humour of this confifts in its being an allufion to the practice of the puritan preachers of thofe times; who being generally very long and tedious, were often forced to put off that part of their fermon called the exhortation till after dinner. WARBURTON. (9) Is that any thing now ?] All the old copies read, it is that ary thing now? I fuppofe we should read, is that any thing new? F 2 And And if it ftand, as you yourself still do, Ball. In my fchool-days, when I had loft one shaft, I fhot his fellow of the felf-fame flight The felf-fame way, with more advised watch, Anth. You know me well; and herein spend but To wind about my love with circumstance; And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong, In making queftion of my uttermoft, Than if you had made wafte of all I have. Of wond'rous virtues; fometimes from her eyes (2) I did (1) - like a WILFUL youth,] This does not at all agree with what he just before promifed, that, what follow'd, fhould be pure innocence. For wilfulness is not quite, lo pure. We fhould read WITLESS, . . heedlefs; and this agrees exactly to that to which he compares his cafe, of a fchool boy, who for want of advised zuatch, loft his first arrow, and fent another after it with more attention. But wilful agrees not at all with it. WARBURTON. Dr. Warburton confounds the time paft and prefent. He has formerly loft his money like a wilful youth, he now borrows more in. pure innocence, without difguiling his forme fault, or his prefeat defigns. (2) fometimes from ber Eyes] So all the Editions; but it certainly ought to be, fometime, i. c. formerly, fome time ago, at a certain I did receive fair fpeechlefs meffages; Nor is the wide world ign'rant of her worth; Anth. Thou know'ft, that all my fortunes are at fea, Nor have I mony, nor commodity To raife a prefent fum; therefore, go forth; SCENE II. Changes to BELMONT. [Exeunt. Three Cafkets are fet out, one of gold, another of filver, and another of lead. Por. Enter Portia and Neriffa. Y my troth, Neriffa, my little body is weary of this great world. BY miferies Ner. You would be, fweet madam, if your were in the fame abundance as your good fortunes are. And yet, for aught I fee, they are as fick, that furfeit with too much, as they that ftarve with nothing; therefore it is no mean happiness to be feated in the certain time and it appears by the fubfequent Scene, that Baffanio was at Belmont with the Marquis de Montferrat, and faw Portia in her Father's life-time. F 3 THEOBALD. mean mean; fuperfluity comes fooner by white hairs, bat competency lives longer. Por. Good fentences, and well pronounc'd. Ner. They would be better, if well follow'd. Por. If to do, were as eafie as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches; and poor men's cottages, Princes' palaces. He is a good divine, that follows his own inftructions ; I can eafier teach twenty what were good to be done, than to be one of the twenty to follow my own teaching. The brain may devife laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree; fuch a hare is madnefs the youth, to fkip o'er the meshes of good counfel the cripple. But this reafoning is not in fafhion to chufe me a bufband: O me, the word, chufe! I may neither chufe whom I would, nor refufe whom I diflike; fo is the will of a living daughter curb'd by the will of a dead father. Is it not hard, Neriffa, that I cannot chufe one, nor refuse none? Ner Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men at their death have good infpirations; therefore, the lottery, that he hath devifed in thefe three chefts of gold, filver, and lead, (whereof who chufes his meaning, chufes you) will no doubt never be chofen by any rightly, but one whom you fhall rightly love. But what warmth is there in your affection towards any of thefe princely fuitors, that are already come? Por. I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou nam'st them, I will defcribe them; and, according to my defcription, level at my affection. Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan Prince. Por. Ay, that's a Colt, (3) indeed, for he doth no thing (3) Ay, that's a Colt, indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of bis borfe;] Tho' all the Editions agree in this Reading, I can perceive neither Humour, nor Reafoning in it. How does talking of Hor fes, or knowing how to fhoe them make a Man e'er the more a Colt? Or, if a Smith and a Lady of Figure were to have an Affair rogether, would a Calt be the Iffue of their Careffes? The Werd, Duit, which I have fubftituted, fignifies one of the moft ftupid and blackish of the Vulgar. THEOBALD Mr. |