Scene I

[Venice]

Enter Antonio, Salerio, and Solanio.

ANTONIO:

In sooth, I know not why I am so sad;
It wearies me; you say it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn;(5)
And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.

ANTONIO:

Really, I don’t know why I’m so sad;
It wearies me; you say it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What it’s made of, where it started,
I must find out;
And sadness makes me so crazy
That I don’t know who I am.

SALERIO:

Your mind is tossing on the ocean;
There, where your argosies, with portly sail,—
Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood,(10)
Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea,—
Do overpeer the petty traffickers,
That curt'sy to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.

SALERIO:

Your mind is tossing on the ocean,
Where your ships, with full sails —
Like gentlemen and rich citizens on the water,
Or as if they were in a procession of the sea—
Look over the minor merchants,
That bow to them, pay them respect,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.

SOLANIO:

Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth,(15)
The better part of my affections 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 every object that might make me fear(20)
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt
Would make me sad.

SOLANIO:

Believe me, sir, if I had such venture out there,
The better part of my thoughts would
Be with my hope of their safe arrival. I’d be
Still plucking the grass to know where the wind blows,
Looking over maps for ports and piers and roads;
And every object that would make me afraid of
Misfortune to my ships,
Would make me sad without a doubt.

SALERIO:

My wind, cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great might do at sea.(25)
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,
Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs,
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church,(30)
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,(35)
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(40)
Is sad to think upon his merchandise.

SALERIO:

My breath, cooling my soup,
Would make me ill, when I thought about
The damage a mighty wind might do at sea.
I shouldn’t see the time pass in the sands of an hour-glass
But I’d be thinking about shallows and sandbars,
And seeing my wealthy ship of war run aground,
Lowering her high top sails lower than her hull
To sink. Even if I went to church
And saw the holy building of stone,
I’d be thinking right away about dangerous rocks,
Which, touching only my gentle vessel's side,
Would scatter all her spices across the water,
Spreading my silk cargo across the roaring waters,
And, in a word, one minute worth this amount of money,
And now worth nothing. If I had the mind
To think about all this, and if I lacked the mind to see
That such a thing could happen, wouldn’t it make me sad?
But don’t tell me; I know Antonio
Is sad to think about his shipments.

ANTONIO:

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:(45)
Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad.

ANTONIO:

Believe me, no; I thank my fortune for it,
My cargos are not all loaded on one ship,
Or going to one place, and my whole estate is not
Based on the fortune of this present year;
So, my shipments don’t make me sad.

SALANIO:

Why, then you are in love.

SALANIO:

ANTONIO:

Fie, fie!

ANTONIO:

Nonsense, nonsense!

SALANIO:

Not in love neither? Then let us say, you are sad,
Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy(50)
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;(55)
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.

Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman,
Gratiano, and Lorenzo: Fare you well;(60)
We leave you now with better company.

SALANIO:

Not in love either? Then let’s say you are sad
Because you are not happy; and it’s easy to say that
Because you laugh and leap and say you are happy,
Because you are not sad. Now, looking at both sides,
Nature has made strange fellows in her time:
Some that will peep through their eyes forever,
And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper,
And the others of such sour disposition
That they'll never smile
Although a wise old man swears that the joke is funny.

Here comes Bassanio, your most noble relative,
Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Goodbye,
We leave you now in better company.

SALERIO:

I would have stay'd till I had made you merry,
If worthier friends had not prevented me.

SALERIO:

I’d have stayed until I had made you happy,
If worthier friends hadn’t stopped me.

ANTONIO:

Your worth is very dear in my regard.
I take it, your own business calls on you,(65)
And you embrace the occasion to depart.

ANTONIO:

I appreciate your concern.
I see your own business needs you,
And you take this opportunity to leave.

SALERIO:

Good morrow, my good lords.

SALERIO:

Good morning, my good lords.

BASSANIO:

Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say,
when?
You grow exceeding strange: must it be so?(70)

BASSANIO:

Good gentlemen, when are we getting together? Say when.
You’re turning into strangers; has it come to that?

SALERIO:

We'll make our leisures to attend on yours.

SALERIO:

We'll wait until you’re free.

Exeunt Salerio, and Solanio.

LORENZO:

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.

LORENZO:

My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio,
We’ll leave you; but, at dinnertime,
Please remember where we’re meeting.

BASSANIO:

I will not fail you.(75)

BASSANIO:

I won’t forget.

GRATIANO:

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.

GRATIANO:

You don’t look well, Mr. Antonio;
You’re thinking too much about the world;
They lose it that buy it with a lot of worry.
Believe me, you’ve changed drastically.

ANTONIO:

I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano;(80)
A stage, where every man must play a part,
And mine a sad one.

ANTONIO:

I only think of the world as the world, Gratiano;
A stage, where every man must play a part,
And my part is a sad one.

GRATIANO:

Let me play the fool!
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come;
And let my liver rather heat with wine,(85)
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,—(90)
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(95)
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,(100)
For saying nothing; who, 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,(105)
For this fool-gudgeon, this opinion.
Come, good Lorenzo:— Fare ye well, awhile:
I'll end my exhortation after dinner.

GRATIANO:

Let me play the fool;
Let old wrinkles come with happiness and laughter;
And let my liver get hot with wine rather
Than my heart turns cold with depressing groans.
Why should a man who’s hot-blooded
Sit like a statue of his grandfather,
Sleeping when he’s awake, and creeping into jaundice
By being spiteful? I tell you what, Antonio—
You are my friend, and it’s my friendship that speaks—
There is a kind of men whose faces
Look foamy and covered like a standing pond,
And who maintain a stubborn silence,
So that people will think they have
Wisdom, seriousness, profound ideas,
Such as saying “I am Sir Fortune Teller,
And when I open my lips, don’t let any dog bark.”
Oh, my Antonio, I know about these men
That are only considered wise
Because they say nothing; when, I am very sure,
If they should speak, they would almost damn those ears
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools.
I'll tell you more about this another time.
But don’t fish for this foolish worthless guppy,
This opinion of mine, with this depressing bait.
Come, good Lorenzo. Goodbye until later;
I'll end my speech after dinner.

LORENZO:

Well, we will leave you
then till dinner-time.(110)
I must be one of these same dumb wise men,
For Gratiano never lets me speak.

LORENZO:

OK, we’ll leave you then until dinnertime.
I must be one of these same dumb wise men,
Because Gratiano never lets me speak.

GRATIANO:

Well, keep me company but two years more,
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.

GRATIANO:

Well, keep me company for only two more years, and
You’ll never know the sound of your own voice.

ANTONIO:

Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear.(115)

ANTONIO:

Goodbye, I'll be a better talker by dinner.

GRATIANO:

Thanks, i' faith; for silence is only commendable
In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible.

GRATIANO:

Thanks, really, because silence is only commendable
In a cow’s dried tongue, and in a girl who’s not for sale.

[Gratiano and Lorenzo exit.]

ANTONIO:

Is that any thing now?

ANTONIO:

Is that anything to think about now?

BASSANIO:

Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more
than any man in all Venice: his reasons are as two grains(120)
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.

BASSANIO:

Gratiano speaks an infinite deal about nothing, more than
any man in all Venice. His reasons are like two grains of wheat hidden
In two bushels of cornhusks: you can look all day before you find
them, and when you have them, they aren’t worth the search.

ANTONIO:

Well; tell me now, what lady is the same
To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,(125)
That you to-day promis'd to tell me of?

ANTONIO:

Well, tell me now about the lady,
The one you swore to make a secret trip to,
The one you promised to tell me about today?