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Be with my hopes abroad, I should be still
My wind, cooling my broth,
Ant. 'Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it,
Salan. Why then you are in love.
Fy, fy! Salan. Not in love neither? Then let's say, you
are sad, Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy For you to laugh, and leap, and say, you are merry, Because you are not sad. Now, by two-hıçaded
Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time:
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
merry, If worthier friends had not prevented me.
Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard.
Salar. Good morrow, my good lords.
[Ereunt Salarino and Salapio. Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found An
Bass. I will not fail you.
Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano;
Let me play the fool: With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; And let my liver rather heat with wine,
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, 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 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, ny Antonio, I do know of these, That therefore only are reputed wise, For saying nothing; who, I am very sore, 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's gudgeon, this opinion. Come, good Lorenzo :-Fare ye well, a while; 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 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 commend
able In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible.
[Ereunt 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
* Obstinate silence.
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
Bass. ''Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it;
shaft, I shot his fellow of the self-same Aight The self-same way, with more advised watch, To find the other forth; and by advent'ring 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, oật of doubt, you do me now more wrong,
Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left,
sea; Nor 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.