II. When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, Mocks married men, for thus sings he, Cuckoo, cuckoo,-O word of fear, III. Winter. When icicles hang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And milk comes frozen home in pail, To-whit, to-whoo, a merry note, When all aloud the wind doth blow, And birds sit brooding in the snow, To-whoo; To-whit, to-whoo, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. You, that way; we, this way. [Exeunt. + Wild apples. SCENE.-Partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the seat of Portia, on the Continent. ACT I. SCENE I-Venice. A Street. Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SALANIO. Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad; And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean; As they fly by them with their woven wings. Ships of large burthen. Salan. Believe me, Sir, had I such venture forth, Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still Salar. My wind, cooling my broth, Would blow me to an ague, when I thought And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks? And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought Is sad to think upon his merchandise. 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: Ant. Fie, fie! Salan. Not in love neither? Then let's say, you are sai 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-headed Janus, Some that will evermore peep through their eyes, And other of such vinegar aspéct, That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. 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. * Lowering. Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. I take it, your own business calls on you, Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? Say, when? You grow exceeding strange: Must it be so? Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. [Exeunt SALARINO and SALANIO. Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since 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, signior Antonio; Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano, Gra. Let me play the Fool: With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice If they should speak, would almost damn those ears, Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. 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 only is commendable In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. Ant. Is that anything now? : [Exeunt GRATIANO and LORENZO. 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 Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; My purse, my person, my extremest means, Bass. 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 advised watch, To find the other forth; and by advent'ring both, I owe you much; and, like a wilful youth, 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: * Ready. |