Page:Shakespeare - First Folio Faithfully Reproduced, Methuen, 1910.djvu/190

162 By being peeuish? I tell thee what Anthonio, I loue thee, and it is my loue that speakes: There are a sort of men, whose visages Do creame and mantle like a standing pond, And do a wilfull stilness entertaine. With purpose to be drest in an opinion Of wisedome, grauity, profound conceit, As who should say, I am sir an Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dogge barke. O my Anthonio, I do know of these That therefore onely are reputed wise. For saying nothing; when I am verie sure If they should speake, would almost dam those cares Which hearing them would call their brothers fooles: Ile tell thee more of this another time. But fish not with this melancholly baite For this foole Gudgin, this opinion: Come good Lorenzo, faryewell a while, Ile end my exhortation after dinner.

Lor. Well, we will leaue you then till dinner time. I must be one of these same dumbe wise men, For Gratiano neuer let's me speake.

Gra. Well, keepe me company but two yeares mo, Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.

Ant. Far you well, Ile grow a talker for this geare.

Gra. Thankes ifaith, for silence is onely commendable In a neats tongue dri'd, and a maid not vendible. Ant. It is that any thing now.

Bas. Gratiano speakes an infinite deale of nothing, more then any man in all Venice, his reasons are two graines of wheate hid in two bushels of chaffe: you shall seeke all day ere you finde them, & when you haue them they are not worth the search.

Ant. Well: tel me now, what Lady is the same To whom you swore a secret Pilgrimage That you to day promis'd to tel me of?

Bas. Tis not unknowne to you Anthonio How much I haue disabled mine estate. By something showing a more swelling port Then my faint meanes would giant continuance: Nor do I now make mone to be abridg'd! From such a noble rate, but my cheefe care Is to come fairely off from the great debts Wherein my time something too prodigall Hath left me gag'd: to you Anthonio I owe the most in money, and in loue, And from your loue I haue a warrantie To unburthen all my plots and purposes. How to get cleere of all the debts I owe.

Ant. I pray you good Bessanio let me know it, And if it stand as you your selfe still do, Within the eye of honour, be assur'd My purse, my person, my extreamest meanes Lye all unlock'd to your occasions.

Bass. In my schoole dayes, when I had lost one shaft I shot his fellow of the selfesame flight The selfesame way, with more aduised watch To finde the other forth, and by aduenturing both, I oft found both. I urge this child-hoode proofe, Because what followes is pure innocence. I owe you much, and like a wilfull youth. That which I owe is lost: but if you please To shoote another arrow that selfe way Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, As I will watch the ayme: Or to finde both, Or bring your latter hazard backe againe, And thankfully rest debter for the first.

An. You know me well and herein spend but time To winde about my loue with circumstance, And out of doubt you doe more wrong In making question of my vttermost Then if you had made waste of all I haue: Then doe but say to me what I should doe That in your knowledge may by me be done, And I am prest unto it: therefore speake. Bass. In Belmont is a Lady richly left, And she is faire, and fairer then that word, Of wondrous vertues, sometimes from her eyes I did receiue faire speechlesse messages: Her name is Portia, nothing undervallewd To Cato's daughter, Brutus Portia, Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth, For the foure windes blow in from euery coast Renowned sutors, and her sunny locks Hang on her temples like a golden fleece, Which makes her seat of Belmont Cholchos strond, And many Iasons come in quest of her. O my Anthonio, had I but the meanes To hold a riuall place with one of them, I haue a minde presages me such thrift. That I should questionlesse be fortunate,

Anth. Thou knowst that all my fortunes are at sea, Neither haue I money, nor commodity To raise a present summe, therefore goe forth Try what my credit can in Venice doe, That shall be rackt euen to the uttermost, To furnish thee to Belmont to faire Portia. Goe presently enquire, and so will I Where money is, and I no question make To haue it of my trust, or for my sake.

Portia. By my troth Nerissa, my little body is a wearie 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 ought I see, they are as sicke that surfet with too much, as they that starue with nothing: it is no smal happinesse therefore to bee seated in the meane, superfluitie comes sooner by white haires, but competencie liues longer.

Portia. Good sentences, and well pronounc'd.

Ner. They would be better if well followed.

Portia. If to doe were as easie as to know what were good to doe, Chappels had beene Churches, and poore mens cottages Princes Pallaces; it is a good Diuine that followes his owne instructions; I can easier teach twentie what were good to be done, then be one of the twentie to follow mine owne teaching: the braine may deuise lawes for the blood, but a hot temper leapes ore a colde decree, such a hare is madnesse the youth, to skip ore the meshes of good counsaile the cripple; but this reason is not in fashion to choose me a husband: O mee, the word choose, I may neither choose whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike, so is the wil of a liuing daughter curb'd by the will of a dead father: it is not hard Nerrissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none.

Ner. Your father was euer vertuous, and holy men at their death haue good inspirations, therefore the lotterie that hee hath deuised in these three chests of gold, siluer, and leade, whereof who chooses his meaning, chooses