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The Merchant of Venice

Act I, Scene 1

Venice. A street.
 
[Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SALANIO]
 
ANTONIO
           ,         ,         ,            ,  ,
      In sooth | I know | not why | I am / so sad,
           ,       ,        ,         ,       ,
      It wear|ies me:| you say | it wear|ies you;
           ,         ,           ,                ,    x
      But how | I caught | it, found | it, or / came by it,
             ,           ,          ,    ,   2       ,
      What stuff |'tis made | of, where|of it is | born,
      <-       2     ,           ,    .   T   T   T         ,        2   ->
        I || am to learn:| and such | a want-wit sad|ness makes || of me,
        ,     2       ,      ,        ,        ,
      That | I have much | ado | to know | myself.
 
SALARINO
             ,        ,        ,        ,   ,
      Your mind | is tos|sing on | the oc|ean,
        ,                 ,     ,           ,       ,
      There where | your arg|osies | with port|ly sail
        ,    ,               ,    ,                  ,
      Like sign/iors and | rich burgh/ers on | the flood,
          ,        ,          ,        ,        ,
      Or as | it were | the page|ants of | the sea,
          ,     ,         ,       ,       ,
      Do ov|erpeer | the pet|ty traf|fickers
             ,      ,          ,         ,     ,
      That curt|sy to | them, do | them rev|erence
       .   T   T   T          ,           ,       ,
      As they fly by | them with | their wov|en wings.
 
SALANIO
          ,         ,        ,         ,         ,
      Believe | me sir,| had I | such vent|ure forth,
           ,        ,        ,      ,           ,
      The bet|ter part | of my | affec|tions, would
           ,         ,        ,          ,          ,
      Be with | my hopes | abroad.| I should | be still
        ,              ,          ,            ,          ,
      Plucking | the grass,| to know | where sits | the wind,
        ,            ,          ,           ,           ,
      Peering | in maps | for ports,| and piers,| and roads:
           ,      ,                ,     ,         ,
      And eve|ry ob|ject* that / might make | me fear
          ,        ,        ,         ,         ,
      Misfor|tune to | my vent|ures, out | of doubt
              ,        ,
      Would make | me sad.
 
SALARINO
                                ,      ,            ,
                           My wind | cooling | my broth,
              ,        ,       ,       ,         ,
      Would blow | me to | an ag|ue, when | I thought
             ,    .   T   T    T         ,           ,
      What harm | a wind too great | at sea | might^do.
           ,          ,         ,   .   T   T   T
      I should | not see | the san|dy^hourglass run,
          ,            ,          ,         ,         ,
      But I | should think | of shal|lows, and | of flats,
           ,         ,       ,         ,          ,
      And see | my wealth|y And|rew docked | in sand,
        ,             ,    ,   ,                  ,
      Vailing | her high-|top low/er than | her ribs
           ,         ,    ,          ,     2      ,
      To kiss | her bur|ial;| should I | go to church
           ,         ,     ,    ,         ,
      And see | the ho|ly ed|ifice | of stone,
           ,        ,            ,          ,    2      ,
      And not | bethink | me straight | of dang|erous rocks,
              ,        ,         ,      ,          ,
      Which^touch|ing but | my gent|le ves|sel's side
              ,       ,          ,      ,          ,
      Would scat|ter all | her spic|es on | the stream,
          ,          ,       ,        ,         ,
      Enrobe | the roar|ing wat|ers with | my silks,
           ,       ,          x     T    T     T
      And in | a word,| but even | now worth this,
       .   T    T     T         ,         ,           ,
      And now worth noth|ing. Shall | I have | the thought
           ,          ,          ,         ,           ,
      To think | on this,| and shall | I lack | the thought
             ,        ,          ,              ,        ,
      That such | a thing | bechanced | would make | me sad?
            ,         ,       ,       ,   ,
      But tell | not me,| I know | Anton|io
          ,         ,       ,          ,       ,
      Is sad | to think | upon | his merch|andise.
 
ANTONIO
          ,         ,       ,          ,         x
      Believe | me no,| I thank | my fort|une for it,
          ,       2     ,        ,     ,         ,
      My vent|ures are not | in one | bottom | trusted,
       T   .  T    T      ,            ,        ,
      Nor to one place;| nor is | my whole | estate
        ,          ,             ,    ,        ,
      Upon | the fort|une of / this pres|ent year:
             ,         ,       ,      T    .   T   T
      Therefore | my merch|andise | makes me* not sad.
 
SALARINO
            ,     ,             ,
      Why then | you are | in love.
 
ANTONIO
                                    ___   ___
                                    Fie,| fie.
 
SALARINO
       T   .   T    T         ,       2    ,       2     ,
      Not in love neith|er: Then | let us say | you are sad
          ,        2     ,     ,             ,         ,    2->
      Because | you are not | merry:| and 'twere | as eas||y
           ,         ,           ,         ,       2     ,     2->
      For you | to laugh | and leap,| and say | you are mer||ry
          ,        3   3     ,     ,        T    Tx     Tx
      Because | you are not^sad.| Now by | two-headed Janus,  ??
       ,               ,        ,     ,                  ,
      Nature | hath framed | strange fel/lows in | her time:
        ,               ,     ,      ,                    ,
      Some that | will ev|ermore | peep through*| their eyes,
            ,           ,        ,      ,    ,
      And laugh | like par|rots at | a bag-|piper.
           ,            ,   ,          ,  ,
      And oth|er of / such vin|egar / aspect,
              ,            ,            ,         ,         ,
      That they'll | not show | their teeth | in way | of smile,
               ,       ,           ,         ,     ,
      Though Nest|or swear | the jest | be laugh|able.
 
[Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO]
 
SALANIO
             ,         ,   2
      Here comes | Bassan|io,  \\
             ,     ,       ,
      Your most | noble | kinsman,  \\
          x       ,       ,        ,         ,
      Gratia|no, and | Loren|zo. Fare | ye well.
           ,          ,          ,        ,    ,
      We leave | you now | with bet|ter comp|any.
 
SALARINO
          ,             ,       ,   2        ,         ,
      I would | have stayed | till I had | made you | merry,
           ,    2     ,           ,        ,       ,
      If worth|ier friends | had not | prevent|ed me.
 
ANTONIO
             ,         ,      ,        ,       ,
      Your worth | is ver|y dear | in my | regard.
          ,               ,   ,          ,         ,
      I take | it your / own bus|iness calls | on you,
           ,        ,        2   ,       ,       ,
      And you | embrace | the occas|ion to | depart.
 
SALARINO
            ,             ,    ,
      Good mor|row my / good lords.  \\
 
BASSANIO
             ,         ,      ,       2       T     T     T
      Good sign|iors both,| when shall we | laugh? Say, when?
            ,        ,         ,        ,        ,
      You grow | exceed|ing strange:| must it | be so?
 
SALARINO
              ,     ,    ,                ,         ,
      We'll make | our leis/ures to | attend | on yours.
 
[Exeunt Salarino and Salanio]
 
LORENZO
           ,        ,   2    ,        2       ,        ,    2 ->
      My Lord | Bassan|io, since | you have found | Anton||io
       ,    ,           ,            2    ,        ,
      We | two will | leave you,| but at din|ner-time
          ,          ,         ,            ,          ,
      I pray | you have | in mind | where* we | must meet.
 
BASSANIO
          ,          ,
      I will | not fail | you.  \\
 
GRATIANO
            ,     T    T   T      2   ,   ,
      You look | not well Sign|ior Anton|io,
            ,     T    T   .  T       ,          ,
      You have | too much respect | upon | the world:
             ,         ,        ,                ,    ,
      They lose | it that | do buy | it with / much care,
          ,         ,          ,      ,        ,
      Believe | me you | are marv|ellous|ly changed.
 
ANTONIO
          ,          ,          ,         ,         x     ->
      I hold | the world | but as | the world | Gratia||no,
       x               ,      ,           ,        ,
      A stage,| where^eve|ry man | must play | a part,
            ,    .  T   T
      And mine | a sad one.
 
GRATIANO
                             T         ,          ,
                            Let | me play | the fool,
             ,           ,              ,    ,         ,
      With mirth | and laugh|ter let / old wrink|les come,
           ,        ,       ,       ,           ,
      And let | my liv|er rath|er heat | with wine,
                  ,     ,           ,    ,        ,
      Than my / heart cool | with mort|ify|ing groans.
             ,        ,            ,          ,        ,
      Why should | a man | whose^blood | is warm | within,
       T    T   .    T     T    T   .  T      x
      Sit like his grand|sire, cut in al|abaster?
        ,               ,           ,      ,  2        ,
      Sleep when | he wakes?| And creep | into the | jaundice
           x       ,           ,           ,       ,    2 ->
      By being | peevish?| I tell | thee what | Anton||io,
            ,    ,       2    ,        ,            ,
      I / love thee,| and it is | my love | that speaks:
             ,        ,        ,           ,    ,
      There are | a sort | of men,| whose^vis|ages
           ,           ,       ,        ,         ,
      Do cream | and mant|le like | a stand|ing pond,
           ,       ,        ,         ,      ,
      And do | a will|ful still|ness ent|ertain,
            ,        ,         ,       ,   2    ,
      With pur|pose to | be dressed | in an op|inion
          ,         ,    ,        ,          ,
      Of wis|dom, grav|ity,| profound | conceit,
          ,            ,    ,       ,   ,   2
      As who | should say,| I am | Sir Ora/cle,
      <-          ,       ,         ,         T  T    T
         And || when I | ope my | lips, let^|no dog bark.
      ,         ,  2   ,        ,         ,
      O my | Anton|io, I | do know | of these
             ,         ,     ,       ,       ,
      That there|fore on|ly are | reput|ed wise,
           ,        ,         ,     2    ,      ,
      For say|ing noth|ing; when,| I am ver|y sure
           ,             ,            ,        ,           ,
      If they | should speak,| would al|most damn | those^ears
              ,        ,            ,            ,         ,
      Which hear|ing them | would call | their broth|ers fools:
             ,           ,         ,       ,       ,
      I'll tell | thee more | of this | anoth|er time.
            ,     ,               ,      ,      ,
      But fish | not with | this mel|anchol|y bait
            ,      ,    ,                ,    ,
      For this | fool gudg/eon, this | opin|ion:
        ,            ,        ,         ,       ,
      Come good | Loren|zo, fare | ye well | awhile,
            ,        ,     ,       ,      ,      ->
      I'll end | my ex|horta|tion aft|er din||ner.
 
LORENZO
        ,      2       ,           ,          ,       ,
      Well,| we will leave | you then | till din|nertime.
          ,        ,      2        ,      T    T   T
      I must | be one | of these^same | dumb wise men,
           ,     ,    ,       ,         ,
      For Gra|tian|o nev|er lets | me speak.
 
GRATIANO
       __      ,         , 3  3       T    T    T
      Well,| keep me | company but | two years moe,
             ,           ,          ,                ,     ,
      Thou shalt | not know | the sound | of thine^/own tongue.
 
ANTONIO
            ,           ,        ,      ,           ,
      Farewell,| I'll grow | a talk|er for | this gear.
 
GRATIANO
         ,          ,           ,     2      ,        ,   2
      Thanks in | faith, for | silence is | only com|mendable
        2    ,         ,     ,               ,          ,   2
      In a neat's | tongue dried,/ and a | maid not | vendible.
 
[Exeunt GRATIANO and LORENZO]
 
ANTONIO
Is that any thing now.
 
BASSANIO
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.
 
ANTONIO
        ,     ,                   ,     ,         ,
      Well: tell / me now,| what la|dy is | the same
           ,          ,        ,       ,       ,
      To whom | you swore | a sec|ret pil|grimage
            ,       ,      ,             ,        ,
      That you | today | promised | to tell | me of?
 
BASSANIO
            ,        ,         ,       ,   ,
      'Tis not | unknown | to you | Anton|io
            ,        ,        ,       ,       ,
      How much | I have | disab|led mine | estate,
           ,          ,            ,    ,         ,
      By some|thing show|ing a / more swel|ling port
                  ,     ,             ,         ,     ,
      Than my / faint means | would grant | contin|uance:
       ,    2     T    T    T        ,       ,
      Nor do I | now make moan | to be | abridged
             ,       ,       ,               ,     ,
      From such | a nob|le rate,| but my / chief care
                ,    ,      ,                 ,     ,
      Is to / come fair|ly off | from the / great debts
            ,        ,      ,          ,    ,
      Wherein | my time | something | too prod/igal
             ,          ,         ,       ,   ,
      Hath left | me gagged:| To you | Anton|io
         ,          ,        ,       ,         ,
      I owe | the most | in mon|ey, and | in love,
            ,           ,        ,       ,      ,
      And from | your love | I have | a war|ranty
        2    ,      ,         ,          ,     ,
      To unburd|en all | my plots | and pur|poses,
       ,             ,         ,          ,        ,
      How to | get clear | of all | the debts | I owe.
 
ANTONIO
          ,          ,        ,   2  ,           x
      I pray | you good | Bassan|io let | me know it,
       ,    2       ,         ,         T    T    T
      And if it | stand as | you your|self still do,
          ,         ,        ,      ,       ,
      Within | the eye | of hon|or be | assured,
           ,          ,       ,       ,        ,
      My purse,| my pers|on, my | extrem|est means,
       T   T   T    ,          ,      ,
      Lie all un|locked to | your oc|casions.
 
BASSANIO
                 ,     ,      ,   2        T   T    T
      In my / school days,| when I had | lost one shaft
          ,         ,                  ,    ,     ,
      I shot | his fel|low of the // self-same flight
       .    T    T   T           ,       ,       ,
      The self-same way,| with more | advis|ed watch
           ,         ,       ,        3  3   ,    2      ,
      To find | the oth|er forth,| and by advent|uring both,
         T    T     T        ,           ,           ,
      I^oft found both:| I urge | this child|hood* proof,
          ,           ,              ,   ,     ,
      Because | what fol|lows is / pure in|nocence.
         ,          ,          ,        ,        ,
      I owe | you much,| and like | a will|ful youth,
             ,        ,         ,         ,          ,
      That which | I owe | is lost:| but if | you please
           ,        ,      ,              ,   ,
      To shoot | anoth|er ar|row 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 lat|ter haz|ard back | again,
            ,             ,    ,      ,          ,
      And thank|fully / rest debt|or for | the first.
 
ANTONIO
            ,         ,          ,       ,           ,
      You know | me well,| and here|in spend | but time
           ,       ,         ,          ,        ,
      To wind | about | my love | with cir|cumstance,
           ,         ,          ,       ,           ,
      And out | of doubt | you do | me now | more^wrong
          ,        ,        ,       ,      ,
      In mak|ing ques|tion of | my ut|termost
            ,               ,    ,         ,        ,
      Than if | you had / made waste | of all | I have:
            ,        ,        ,        ,           ,
      Then do | but say | to me | what I | should do
            ,          ,         ,        ,        ,
      That in | your know|ledge may | by me | be done,
          ,         ,          x       T    T    T
      And I | am pressed | unto it:| therefore speak.
 
BASSANIO
          ,   ,           ,      ,       ,
      In Bel|mont is | a la|dy rich|ly left,
           ,         ,          ,       ,           ,
      And she | is fair,| and fair|er than | that word,
           ,         ,         ,    ,                ,
      Of wond|rous virt|ues, some|times from | her eyes
         ,     .  T     T    T          ,     ,
      I did | receive fair speech|less mes|sages:
            ,        ,         ,       ,     ,      2->
      Her name | is Por|tia, noth|ing und|erval||ued
          ,         ,         ,       ,
      To Ca|to's daught|er, Brut|us' Port|ia,
      <- ,                ,    ,      ,     ,             ,
        Nor || is the / wide world | ignor|ant of | her worth,
                  ,    ,           ,         ,       ,
      For the / four winds | blow^in | from eve|ry coast
          ,       ,        ,         ,       ,
      Renown|ed suit|ors, and | her sun|ny locks
        ,             ,        ,        ,        ,
      Hang on | her temp|les like | a gold|en fleece,
              ,           ,        ,        ,           ,
      Which makes | her seat | of Bel|mont^Col|chos'^strand,
           ,     ,        ,         ,         ,
      And ma|ny Jas|ons come | in quest | of her.
      ,         ,   2   ,       ,          ,
      O my | Anton|io, had | I but | the means
           ,       ,       ,           ,         ,
      To hold | a riv|al place | with one | of them,
          ,        ,        ,            ,     ,
      I have | a mind | presag|es me / such thrift,
           ,            ,        ,         ,     ,
      That I | should ques|tionless | be fort|unate.
 
ANTONIO
              ,           ,         ,        ,        ,
      Thou knowst | that all | my fort|unes are | at sea,
        ,         ,       ,       ,       ,  2
      Neither | have I | money,| nor com|modity
           ,         ,       ,          ,           ,
      To raise | a pres|ent sum,|*therefore | go* forth;
       ,              ,      ,        ,       ,
      Try what | my cred|it can | in Ven|ice do,
             ,           ,      x             ,      ,
      That shall | be racked | even to | the ut|termost,
           ,        ,        ,      2     ,     ,
      To furn|ish thee | to Bel|mont^to fair | Portia.
       ,   ,              ,          ,        ,
      Go pres/ently | inquire,| and so | will I
             ,      ,    .  T  T   T         ,
      Where mon|ey is,| and I no ques|tion make
           ,        ,        ,         ,         ,
      To have | it of | my trust,| or for | my sake.
 
[Exeunt]

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