There are a sort of men whose visages
Do cream and mantle like a standing pond;
And do a wilful stillness entertain,
With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;
As who should say, I am Sir Oracle,
And when I ope my lips let no dog bark!
O my Antonio, I do know of these
That therefore only are reputed wise
For saying nothing; who, I am very sure,
If they should speak, would almost damn
those ears
[fools.
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers
I'll tell thee more of this another time:
But fish not with this melancholy 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 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.

[Exeunt GRATIANO and LORENZO.

Ant. Is that anything now?

90

100

IIO

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 wo bushels of chaff; you shall seek all day ere you find them; and, when you have them, they are not worth the search.

Ant. Well; tell me now what lady is the

same

To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,
That you to-day promised to tell me of?

Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, 120 How much I have disabled mine estate,

By something showing a more swelling port
Than my faint means would grant continu-

ance:

Nor do I now make moan to be abridged 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 gaged. To you, Antonio, I owe the most in money and in love; And from your love I have a warranty To unburden all my plots and purposes, 130 How to get clear of all the debts I owe.

Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me
know it;

And, if it stand, as you yourself still do,
Within the eye of honor, be assured
My purse, my person, my extremest means
Lie all unlock'd to your occasions.

Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost
one shaft,

I shot his fellow of the self-same flight

The self-same way, with more advisèd watch To find the other forth; and by adventuring both

I oft found both: I urge this childhood proof, 140
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.

Ant. You know me well: and herein spend
but time

To wind about my love with circumstance;
And, out of doubt, you do me now more
wrong

In making question of my uttermost
Than if you had made waste of all I have.
Then do but say to me what I should do,
That in your knowledge may by me be done,
And I am prest unto it: therefore speak.

Bass. 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 undervalued
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 suitors: and her sunny locks
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece;

150

160

Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos'

strand,

And many Jasons come in quest of her. O my Antonio! had I but the means 170 To hold a rival place with one of them, I have a mind presages me such thrift, That I should questionless be fortunate. Ant. Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea;

Neither have I money nor commodity To raise a present sum: therefore go forth, Try what my credit can in Venice do; That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost, To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. Go, presently inquire, and so will I, 180 Where money is; and I no question make To have it of my trust or for my sake.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Belmont. A Room in Portia's

House.

Enter PORTIA and NERISSA.

Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is a-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 aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit with too much as they that starve with nothing. It is no small happiness, therefore, to be seated in the mean; superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer.

Por. Good

nounced.

sentences, and well

pro[lowed.

Ner. They would be better, if well fol- 10 Por. If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's 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 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 reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me a husband :-O me, the word choose! I may neither choose whom I would nor refuse whom I dislike; so is the will of a living 20 daughter curbed by the will of a dead father.

Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose 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 chooses his meaning chooses you,) will, no doubt, never be chosen by any rightly, but one who shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these princely suitors that are already come?

Por. I pray thee over-name them; and as thou namest them I will describe them; and.

30