And every object that might make me fear
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt,
Would make me sad.

Salar.
My wind, cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great might do at sea.
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
But I should think of shallows and of flats,
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand 2,
Vailing her high top lower than her ribs,
To kiss her burial.

Should I go to church,
And see the holy edifice of stone,

And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks,
Which touching but my gentle vessel's side,
Would scatter all her spices on the stream,
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks,
And, in a word, but even now worth this,

And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought
To think on this, and shall I lack the thought,
That such a thing bechanc'd would make me sad?
But, tell not me: I know, Antonio

Is sad to think upon his merchandize.

Ant. Believe me, no. I thank my fortune for it,
My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,
Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
Upon the fortune of this present year:
Therefore, my merchandize makes me not sad.
Salan. Why, then you are in love'.

Ant.

Fie, fie! Salan. Not in love neither? Then let's say, you are sad, Because you are not merry; and 'twere as easy

2 And see my wealthy Andrew DOCK'D in sand,] We must take "Andrew" to be the name of a ship: for "dock'd in sand” all the old editions print "docks in sand." Possibly we might read, "my wealthy Andrew's decks in sand."

3 VAILING her high top-] To rail means to bow, to lower, and sometimes to submit. Heywood, in his "Fair Maid of the West," 1631 (not 1613 as quoted by Steevens), speaks of a carvel "vailing her top." See also note 9, p. 89.

4 WHY, then you are in love.] Roberts's 4to. omits "why," Heyes's 4to. and the folio have it as in the text.

For you to laugh, and leap, and say, you are merry,
Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus,
Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time:
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,
And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper;
And other of such vinegar aspect,

That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.

Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO.

Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kins

man,

Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare you 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.
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 SALANIO.

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; You have too much respect upon the world: They lose it, that do buy it with much care. Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd.

Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano;

A stage, where every man must play a part,

And mine a sad one.

5 A stage, where every MAN] The 4to. by Roberts has one for "man."

Gra.

Let me play the fool:

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come,
And let my liver rather heat with wine,
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?
Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice
By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,—
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,
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; when, I am very sure',

If they should speak, would almost damn those ears,
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools.
I'll tell thee more of this another time:
But fish not, with this melancholy bait,
For this fool-gudgeons, this opinion.-
Come, good Lorenzo.-Fare ye well, awhile:
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.

6 I am SIR ORACLE,] The first folio reads, “I am, Sir, an oracle ;” but the 4to, of Heyes, and that of Roberts, have it, "I am Sir Oracle," which is doubtless right.

7 — WHEN I am very sure,] So all the old copies, including the second folio. This reading is in Shakespeare's manner, who often left the nominative case of the verb to be understood. Rowe altered "when" to who, and he has been followed by the modern editors.

8 For this FOOL-GUDGEON,] An expressive compound, which Malone altered to fool's-gudgeon, by deserting all the authorities.

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. It is that:-any thing now 10.

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 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 promis'd to tell me of?
Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
How much I have disabled mine estate,
By something showing a more swelling port
Than my faint means would grant continuance:
Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd
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 unburthen all my plots and purposes,

Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this GEAR.] This expression frequently occurs without any very definite meaning: it signifies, generally, for this purpose, or, this matter. The 4to. by Roberts has " Farewell," and that of Heyes and the folio, "Fare you well.”

10 It is that any thing now.] This is the reading of the two quartos of 1600, and of the folio of 1623, and it is preserved in the folio of 1632. Surely, therefore, we are not warranted in altering the text, when a clear meaning can be made out of it. Antonio's observation, "It is that," is addressed to Gratiano, concurring in his remark just before he made his exit; and then Antonio's bad spirits return upon him, and he adds, as if weary of Gratiano's talk, "any thing now." This naturally leads to Bassanio's criticism upon Gratiano. Johnson, Steevens, and Tyrwhitt, reason upon the passage as if the old reading were, "Is that any thing now?" and they actually call it "the old reading," while Malone contends that, "It is that :" is a "manifest misprint." All the modern editors seem to have taken his word for it.

1 his reasons are as two grains of wheat-] The folio omits "as," which is found in both the quartos.

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 honour, be assur'd,

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 advised watch,
To find the other forth; and by adventuring both,
I oft found both. I urge this childhood proof,
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

2 And, out of doubt, you do ME Now more wrong,] So both the quartos: the

first folio reads,—

"And, out of doubt, you do more wrong ;"

to cure which defective line the second folio has,

"And, out of doubt, you do to me more wrong."

3

− prest —] i. e. ready: of very frequent use. From the French.