The Merchant of Venice. William Shakespeare

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ 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;⁷ 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 gudgeon,⁸ 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 moe,

      Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.

      ANT. Farewell: I ’ll grow a talker for this gear.⁹ GRA. Thanks, i’ faith; for silence is only commendable

      In a neat’s tongue¹⁰ dried, and a maid not vendible.

      [Exeunt GRATIANO and LORENZO.]

      ANT. Is that any thing now?

      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 promised to tell me of?

      BASS. ’T is 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 abridged

      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

      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 assured,

      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 prest¹¹ 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

      To Cato’s daughter, Brutus’ Portia:

      Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth;

      For the four winds blow in from every coast

      Renowned suitors: and her sunny locks

      Hang on her temples like a golden fleece;

      Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos’ strond,¹² And many Jasons come in quest of her. O my Antonio, had I but the means To hold a rival place with one of them, I have a mind presages me such thrift,¹³ That I should questionless be fortunate!

      ANT. Thou know’st that all my fortunes are at sea;

      Neither have I money, nor commodity

      To raise a present sum: therefore go forth;

      Try what my credit can in Venice do:

      That shall be rack’d, even to the uttermost,

      To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia.

      Go, presently inquire, and so will I,

      Where money is; and I no question make,

      To have it of my trust, or for my sake.

      [Exeunt. СКАЧАТЬ