Salan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, The better part of my affections would Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still Salar. And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks? And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought Is sad to think upon his merchandize. Ant. 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: Therefore, my merchandize makes me not sad. 2 Plucking the grass, &c.] By holding up the grass, or any light body that will bend by a gentle blast, the direction of the wind is found. 3 Andrew] The name of the ship. Vailing her high-top —] i. e. lowering. Salan. Why then you are in love. Ant. Fye, fye! Salan. Not in love neither? Then let's say, you are sad, Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy Janus, Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time: That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO. Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, Gratiano, and Lorenzo: Fare you well; We leave you now with better company. Salar. I would have staid till I had made you If worthier friends had not prevented me. You grow exceeding strange: Must it be so? We two will leave you: but, at dinner time, Bass. I will not fail you. Gra. 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. Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gra tiano; A stage, where every man must play a part, Gra. Let me play the Fool: Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaun dice By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,- 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, Come, good Lorenzo:-Fare ye well, a while; Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner time: I must be one of these same dumb wise men, Gra. Well, keep me company but two years more, Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. Ant. Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear. Gra. Thanks, i'faith; for silence 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 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 this same To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, That you to-day promis'd to tell me of? Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, 5 How much I have disabled mine estate, 5 Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; a more swelling port, &c.] Port, in the present instance, comprehends the idea of expensive equipage, and external pomp of appearance. And, if it stand, as you yourself still do, Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one I shot his fellow of the self-same flight Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, 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: eyes Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth; 6 prest unto it: Prest may not here signify impress'd, as into military service, but ready. Pret, Fr. |