Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt, Salar. 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, Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. Ant. Fie, fie! 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-headed Janus, Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time; And other of such vinegar aspéct, 1 To vail is to lower, to let fall; from the French, avaler. That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO. Salan. Here comes kinsman, Bassanio, your most noble 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. I take it, your own business calls on you, And you embrace the occasion to depart. Bass. Good seigniors both, when shall we laugh? You grow exceeding strange. Must it be so? Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. [Exeunt SALAR. and SALAN. I Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio, We two will leave you; but, at dinner-time, pray you, have in mind where we must meet. Bass. I will not fail you. Gra. You look not well, seignior Antonio. You have too much respect upon the world. They lose it, that do buy it with much care. Believe me, you are marvellously changed. Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; A stage, where every man must play a part, And mine a sad one. Gra. Let me play the fool. With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,— Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond; For saying nothing; who, I am very sure, If they should speak, would almost damn those ears, But fish not, with this melancholy bait, Come, good Lorenzo.-Fare ye well, awhile; Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner-time. 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.1 Gra. Thanks, i'faith; for silence is only commendable In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. [Exeunt GRA. and LOR. 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 1 Gear usually signifies matter, subject, or business in general. It is here, perhaps, a colloquial expression of no very determined import. It occurs again in this play, Act ii. Sc. 2: "If Fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this gear." To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; My purse, my person, my extremest means, Lie all unlocked to your occasions. 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 adventuring both, 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. Then do but say to me what I should do, That in your knowledge may by me be done, 2 Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalued Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth; Which makes her seat of Belmont, Colchos' strand, Ant. Thou know'st, that all my fortunes are at sea; Neither have I money, nor commodity To raise a present sum. Therefore go forth, [Exeunt. SCENE II. Belmont. A Room in Portia's House. Enter PORTIA and NERISSA. Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of this great world. Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are ; 1 Prest, that is, ready; from the old French word of the same orthography, now pret. 2 Formerly. |