LORENZO, in love with JESSICA. SHYLOCK, a Jew. TUBAL, a Jew, his Friend. LAUNCELOT GOBBO, a Clown, Servant to SHYLOCK. OLD GOBBO, Father to LAUNCELOT. SALERIO, a Messenger from Venice. STEPHANO, PORTIA, a rich Heiress. NERISSA, her Waiting-maid. JESSICA, Daughter to SHYLOCK. Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, Gaoler, 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 SOLANIO. And such a want-wit sadness makes of me Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean; That curt'sy to them, do them reverence, The better part of my affections would Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still Salar. And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks, And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought Is sad to think upon his merchandize. Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it, Ant. Fie, fie! Salar. Not in love neither? Then let's say you are sad Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy For you to laugh, and leap, and say you are merry, Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus, Some that will evermore peep through their eyes, And other of such vinegar aspect, That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. Solan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare ye 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. Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. I take it your own business calls on you, And you embrace the occasion to depart. Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO. Salar. Good-morrow, my good lords. Bass. 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 yours. [Exeunt SALARINO and SOLANIO. Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio, 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. Gra. You look not well, Signior Antonio; Gra. Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice I love thee, and it is my love that speaks, - For saying nothing; when, I am very sure, If they should speak, would almost damn those ears But fish not, with this melancholy bait, 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 wise 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. Ant. Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear. Gra. Thanks, i'faith; for silence is only commendable In a neat's tongue dried and a maid not vendible. [Exeunt GRATIANO and LORENZO. Ant. Is that anything now? Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you shall seek all day |