MERCHANT of VENICE. ACT I SCENE I. Venice. A Street. Enter ANTONIA, SALARINO, and SALANIO. ANT. In footh, I know not why I am so sad; And fuch a want-wit sadness makes of me, SALAR. Your mind is toffing on the ocean; Do overpeer the petty traffickers, That curt'fy to them, do them reverence, As they fly by them with their woven wings. SALAN. Believe me, fir, had I fuch venture forth, The better part of my affections would Be with my hopes abroad. I fhould be still Plucking the grass, to know where fits the wind ; Peering in maps, for ports, and piers, and roads ; And every object, that might make me fear SALAR. My wind, cooling my broth, And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks? And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought Is fad to think upon his merchandize. ANT. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it, Therefore, my merchandize makes me not fad. ANT. Fie, fie! [fad, SALAN. Not in love neither? Then let's fay, you are Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy For you, to laugh, and leap, and fay, you are merry, Because you are not fad. Now, by two-headed Janus, Nature hath fram'd ftrange fellows in her time: That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO. SALAN. Here comes Baffanio, your most noble kinfGratiano, and Lorenzo: Fare you well; We leave you now with better company. [man, SALAR. I would have ftaid 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 occafion to depart. SALAR. Good morrow, my good lords. [when? BASS. Good figniors both, when shall we laugh? Say, You grow exceeding strange; Must it be fo? SALAR. We'll make our leifures to attend on yours. [Exeunt SALARINO and SALANIO. LOR. My Lord Baffanio, fince you have found Antonio, We two will leave you: but, at dinner-time, I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. GRA. You look not well, fignior Antonio; 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 fad one. GRA. Let me play the Fool: With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; VOL. II. G And let my liver rather heat with wine, Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond; For faying nothing; who, I am very fure, If they should speak, would almost damn those ears, LOR. Well, we will leave you then till dinner-time: I must be one of these same dumb wife men, For Gratiano never lets me speak. GRA. Well, keep me company but two years more, Thou shalt not know the found of thine own tongue. ANT. Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear. GRA. Thanks, i'faith; for filence is only commendable In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. [Exeunt GRATIANO and LORENZO. ANT. Is that any thing now? BASS. Gratiano fpeaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice: His reafons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; you shall feek 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 this fame That you to-day promis'd to tell me of? ANT. I pray you, good Baffanio, let me know it; My purse, my person, my extremest means, BASS. In my school-days, when I had loft one shaft, I fhot his fellow of the felf-fame flight The self-fame way, with more advised watch, |