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George Granville [1701], The Jew of Venice. A Comedy. As it is Acted at the Theatre in Little-Lincolns-Inn-Fields, By His Majesty's Servants (Printed for Ber. Lintott [etc.], London) [word count] [S37300].
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Scene I. Enter Bassanio, Antonio, Gratiano, and Lorenzo.

Anto.
I hold the World, but as a Stage, Gratiano,
‘Where every Man must play some certain Part,
And mine's a serious one.

Grat.
Laughter and Mirth be mine,
Why should a Man, whose Blood is warm and young,
Sit like his Grandsire, cut in Alablaster!
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 willful Stillness entertain,
‘Screwing their Faces in a politick Form,
‘To cheat Observers with a false Opinion
Of Wisdom, Gravity, profound Conceit;
As who should say, I am, Sir, an Oracle.
Oh my Antonio! I do know of these,
Who therefore only are reputed wise,
For saying nothing; But more of this
Another time. ‘Let you and I, Lorenzo,
‘Take a short turn: Once more, my Friends, be merry.
‘All have their Follies; merry Fools are best.
Lorenzo come, Sir Gravities, Farewell,
I'll end my Exhortation after Dinner.
[Exeunt Grat. and Lore

Bassa.
Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing;
More than any Man in all Venice. His Reasons
Are two Grains of Wheat, hid in two Bushels of Chaff,
You may seek all day e're you find 'em, and when
You have 'em, they are not worth the Search.

-- 2 --

Anto.
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.

Bassa.
'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
How much I have disabled my Estate
By something showing a more swelling Port,
Than my faint Means would grant continuance;
Nor would I now make suit 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,
Has left me bound. To you, Antonio,
I owe the most in Mony and in Love.

‘Anto.
‘My Friend can owe me nothing; we are one,
‘The Treasures I possess, are but in Trust,
‘For him I love. Speak freely your Demand,
And if it stand, as you your self still do,
Within the Eye of Honor, be assur'd,
My Purse, my Person, my extreamest Means,
‘Are all my Friends.

Bassa.
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 advis'd Regard,
And by advent'ring both, I oft found both.
I owe you much, and like a Prodigal;
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.

Anto.
You know me well, and herein spend but Time,
To wind about my Love with Circumstance.
‘Believe me, my Bassanio, 'tis more wrong
‘Thus to delay the Service of your Friend,
Than if you had made waste of all I have;
‘Is this to be a Friend? With blushing Cheek,
‘With down-cast Eyes, and with a faltring Tongue,
‘We sue to those we doubt: Friendship is plain,
‘Artless, familiar, confident and free.
‘Ask then as you wou'd grant, were yours the Power,
‘Were yours the Power, so would I ask of you;
‘No longer hesitate. Give me to know
‘What you wou'd have me do, and think it done.

-- 3 --

‘Bass.
‘Then briefly thus. In Belmont is a Lady
Immensly rich, and yet more fair than rich.
‘And vertuous as she's fair; sometimes from her Eyes
I have receiv'd kind speechless Messages.
Her Name is Portia: you have heard her Fame,
From the Four Corners of the World; the Winds
Blow in, from every Coast, adoring Crowds;
The watry Kingdom, whose ambitious Head
Spets in the Face of Heaven, is no Bar
‘To æmulous Love, as o're a Brook they come
‘To Anchor at her Heart: Her Sunny Locks
Hang on her Temples, like a golden Fleece,
For which these many Jason's sayl in Quest.
O my Antonio, had I but the Means
To hold a Rival-Place with one of 'em.

‘Anto.
‘The Means be thine, if I can find the Means;
My present Fortunes are, thou know'st, at Sea.
No Money, nor Commodity is left me
‘To raise immediate Sums. Therefore go forth,
Try what my Credit can in Venice do.
It shall be rack'd even to the uttermost
‘To furnish thy Desires: ‘Nay, no set Speech
‘Of formal Thanks, which I must blush to hear.
Go, presently enquire. And so will I,
Where Money is: ‘In Friendship, who receives,
‘Obliges, by Acceptance, him that gives.
[Exeunt.

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George Granville [1701], The Jew of Venice. A Comedy. As it is Acted at the Theatre in Little-Lincolns-Inn-Fields, By His Majesty's Servants (Printed for Ber. Lintott [etc.], London) [word count] [S37300].
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