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SALAR.- Why, then you are in love.
SALAR.— Not in love neither? Then let's say you are sad
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 regards.
SALAR.—Good morrow, my good lords.
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.
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 marvelously 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; 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 pond, And do a willful stillness entertain, With purpose to be dressed 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, my Antonio, I do know of these, That therefore only are reputed wise, For saying nothing; when, 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, For this fool-gudgeon, this opinion.Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well, awhile ; 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 commendable In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible.
Exeunt GRATIANO AND LORENZO.
Ant.— Is that anything now?
BASS.—Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing,
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; And if it stand, as you yourself still do, Within the eye of honor, be assured, 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 I oft found both : I urge this childhood proof, Because what follows is pure innocence. I owe you much, and, like a willful 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
Bass.—In Belmont is a lady richly left,
For the four winds blow in from every coast
Ant.-Thou knowest that all my fortunes are at sea;
LXXXIX.-SCENES FROM THE MERCHANT OF
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; and yet, for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing. It is no mean happiness,