Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea, That curt'sy to them, do them reverence, As they fly by them with their woven wings. Solan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, 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 merchandise. Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it, Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO. Solan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, Gratiano, and Lorenzo: Fare you well; We leave you now with better company. [Exeunt SALARINO and SOLANIO. Gra. You look not well, signior Antonio; You have too much respect upon the world: They lose it that do buy it with much care. Believe me, you are marvellously changed. Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; A stage, where every man must play a part, And mine a sad one. Gra. Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice I love thee, and it is my love that speaks There are a sort of men, whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, If they should speak, would almost damn those ears But fish not with this melancholy bait, Fare ye well a while; I'll end my exhortation after dinner. [Exeunt GRATIANO and LORENZO, Ant. Well; tell me now, what lady is the same To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, And from your love I have a warranty Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; 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 advised watch, To find the other forth; and by adventuring both I owe you much; and, like a wilful youth, Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, 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, Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left, Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth; Hang on her temples like a golden fleece, Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strand, Ant. Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea; To raise a present sum: therefore go forth, [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 mean happiness, therefore, to be seated in the mean; superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer. Por. Good sentences, and well pronounced. Ner. They would be better, if well followed. 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 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, overname them; and as thou namest them I will describe them; and according to my description level at my affection. Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, that came hither in company of the marquis of Montferrat? Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, so was he called. Ner. True, madam: he, of all the men that ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady. Por. I remember him well; and I remember him worthy of thy praise. Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound. Shy. Antonio shall become bound, Bass. May you stead me? I know your answer? well. Will you pleasure me? Shall Shy. Three thousand ducats, for three months, Antonio bound. Bass. Your answer to that. Shy. Antonio is a good man. - and Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary? Shy. Oh no, no, no, no; — my meaning in saying he is a good man is, to have you understand me that he is sufficient: yet his means are in supposition: he hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies; I understand moreover upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England; and other ventures he hath, squandered abroad. But ships are but boards, sailors but men: there be land-rats and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves; I mean, pirates; and then, there is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks. The man is, notwithstanding, sufficient; three thousand ducats; I think I may take his bond. Bass. Be assured you may. Shy. I will be assured I may; and that I may be assured, I will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio? Bass. If it please you to dine with us. Shy. Yes, to smell pork! to eat of the habitation which your prophet, the Nazarite, conjured the devil into! I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, |