"Since lion vile hath here deflower'd my dear: "Which is-no, no-which was the fairest dame, "That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd, "with cheer. "Come tears, comfound; Tongue, lose thy light! [Dies. Exit Moonshine. Dem. No die, but an ace for him; for he is but one. Lys. Less than an ace, man; for he is dead: he is nothing. The. With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover, and prove an ass. 15 The. Moonshine and lion are left to bury the dead. Dem. Ay, and wall too. Bot. No, I assure you; the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance', between two of our company. 20 The. No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. Never excuse; for when the players are all dead, there needs none to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it, had play'd Pyramus, and hang'd himself in Thisbe's garter, 25 it would have been a fine tragedy: and so it is, truly; and very notably discharg'd. But come, your Bergomask: let your epilogue alone. [Here a Dance of Clowns. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve;30 Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time. Hip. How chance the moonshine is gone, be-35 fore Thisbe comes back and finds her lover? The. She will find him by star-light. Enter Thisbe. I fear, we shall out-sleep the coming morn, SCENE II. Enter Puck. [Excunt. Puck. Now the hungry lion roars, Now the wasted brands do glow, Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud, Puts the wretch, that lies in woe, In remembrance of a shroud. That the graves all gaping wide, By the triple Hecate's team, Following darkness like a dream, Now are frolick; not a mouse Shall disturb this hallow'd house: Thrum is the end or extremity of a weaver's warp; it is popularly used for very coarse yarn. To quell is to murther, to destroy. That is, a dance after the manner of the peasants of Bergomasco, a country in Italy belonging to the Venetians. + i. e. Passage, progress. ! i, e. Over Ob. Through this house give glimmering light, By the dead and drowsy fire: Every elf, and fairy sprite, Hop as light as bird from brier; Tit. First, rehearse this song by rote: Ob. Now, until the break of day, ' 1i. e. portentous. 5 10 [15] (20 Despised in nativity, Shall upon their children be.— And each several chamber bless, And the owner of it blest. Trip away; Meet me all by break of day. [Exeunt King, Queen, and Train. Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends. ? i. e. take his way. [Exit. MERCHANT Senators of Venice, Officers, Jailer, Servants, and other Attendants. SCENE I. A Street in Venice. ACT I. Enter Anthonio, Salarino, and Salanio. And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, Sal. Your mind is tossing on the ocean: Sal. My wind, cooling my broth, Would blow me to an ague, when I thought. What harm a wind too great might do at sea. should not see the sandy hour-glass run, 3 5 But I should think of shallows, and of flats; 10 And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks! 15 And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought 20 is sad to think upon his merchandize. fit, Anth. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for 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. 25 Sala. Why then you are in love? Anth. Fie, fie! Ships so named from Ragusa. 2 The name of the ship. hat, to strike sail, to give sign of submission. To vail, means to put off the Sala. Sula. Not in love neither? Then let's say, you Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano. Sata. I would have staid till Ihad made youmerry, Anth. Your worth is very dear in my regard. Buss. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh: 5 [That therefore only are reputed wise, For this fool's gudgeon, this opinion.— Gra. Well, keep me company but two years more, [tongue. 15 Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own Anth. Fare well; I'll grow a talker for this 20 You grow exceeding strange; Must it be so? Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found We two will leave you; but at dinner-time, Gra. You look not well, signior Anthonio; Anth. Ihold theworld but as the world, Gratiano, Gra. Let me play the fool': gear. [mendable Gra, Thanks, i'faith; for silence is only comIn a neat's tongue dry'd, and a maid not vendible. [Exeunt Gra. and Lor. Anth. Is that any thing now? Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in ali 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. Anth. Well; tell me now, what lady is the same, Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Anthonio, From such a noble rate; but my chief care Anth. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; [shaft, Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one 50 shot his fellow of the self-same flight The self-same way, with more advised watch, This alludes to the common comparison of human life to a stage-play. So that he desires his may be the fool's or buffoon's part, which was a constant character in the old farces; from whence came the phrase, to play the fool. 2 Our author's meaning is, that so e people are thought wise whilst they keep silence; who, when they open their mouths, are such stupid praters, that the hearers cannot help calling them fools, and so incur the judgment denounced in the gospel. 3 The humour of this consists in its being an allusion to the practice of the puritan preachers of those times; who being generally very long and tedious, were often forced to put off that part of their sermon called the exhortation, till after dinner. That Act 1. Scene 2.] That which I owe is lost; but if you please Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left, blood; but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree: such a hare is madness the youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the cripple. But this reasoning is not in the fashion to chuse me a husband: 5-O me, the word chuse! I may neither chuse whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curb'd by the will of a dead father:-Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot chuse one, nor refuse none? 10 Ner. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy Por. I pray thee, over-name them; and, as thou 20nam'st them, I will describe them; and, according to my description, level at my affection. Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. Por. Ay, that's a colt', indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse; and he makes it a Colchos' 25 great appropriation to his own good parts, that he can shoe him himself: I am much afraid my [strand, lady his mother played false with a smith. Ner. Then, there is the County Palatine. Por. He doth nothing but frown; as, who 30 should say, An if you will not have me, chuse : he hears merry tales and smiles not: I fear he will prove the weeping philosopher when he grows old, being so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had rather be married to a death's35 head with a bone in his mouth, than to either of these. God defend me from these two! A Room in Portia's House in Belmont. Enter Portia and Nerissa. Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is weary of this great world. Ner. How say you by the French lord, Mon-sieur Le Bon? Por. God made him, and therefore let him pass 40 for a man, In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker; But, he! why, he hath a horse better than the Neapolitan's; a better bad habit of frowning than the Count Palatine: he is every man in no man: if a throstle sing, he falls strait a-capering; he will fence with his own shadow: if I should marry him, I should marry twenty husbands: If he would despise me, I would forgive him; for if he love me to madness, I shall never requite him. a-45 Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are: And yet, for aught I see, they are as sick, that surfeit with too much, as they that starve 50 with nothing: It is no mean happiness therefore, to be seated in the mean; superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer. Ner. What say you then to Faulconbridge, the young baron of England? Por. You know I say nothing to him; for he understands not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian; and you will come into the court and swear, that I have a poor pen55 ny-worth in the English. He is a proper man's picture; But, alas! who can converse with a dumb show? How oddly he is suited! I think, The bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour every-where. Por. Good sentences, and well pronounc'd. Ner. They would be better, if well follow'd. Por. If to do, were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages, princes' palaces. It is a good divine, that follows his own instructions. I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, 60 than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may devise laws for the Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour? That is, ready to do it. Sometimes here means formerly. ? Sometimes here means formerly. i. e. a thoughtless, giddy, gay youngster. Por. |