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Nor to one place; nor is my whole eftate
Sol. Why then you are in love.
Ant. Fie, fie!
Sol. Not in love neither? Then let's fay, you're
Because you are not merry: and 'twere as eafy For you to laugh, and leap, and fay you're merry, Because you are not fad. Now, by two-headed Janus,
Nature hath fram'd ftrange fellows in her time:
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,
Sala. Here comes Baffanio, your most noble kinfman,
Gratiano, and Lorenzo: Fare you well;
Sol. I would have staid till I had made you
If worthier friends had not prevented me.
Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard.
Bass. Good fignors both, when shall we laugh? fay, when?
You grow exceeding strange; Muft it be fo?
Sol. We'll make our leifures to attend on yours.
We two will leave you: but, at dinner time,
Bass. I will not fail you.
Gra. You look not well, fignor Antonio; You have too much respect upon the world; They lose it, that do buy it with much care. Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd.
Ant. I hold the world, but as the world,
A stage, where every man must play a part,
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.
Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice
I'll tell thee more of this another time:
Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinnertime:
I must be one of these same dumb wise men,
Gra. Well; keep me company but two years
Thou shalt not know the found of thine own tongue.
Ant. Farewell; I'll grow a talker for this gear.
Gra. Thanks, i'faith; for filence is only commendable
In a neat's tongue dry'd, and a maid not vendible. (Exeunt GRA. and LOREN.
Ant. Is that any thing now?
Bass. Gratiano fpeaks 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 feek all day ere you find them; and when you have them, they are not worth the fearch.
Ant. Well, tell me now, what lady is this fame, To whom you fwore a fecret pilgrimage, That you to day promis'd to tell me of?
Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
T'unburthen all my plots, and purposes,
Ant. I pray you, good Baffanio, let me know it;
My purse, my perfon, my extremeft means,
Bass. In my school-days, when I had loft one shaft,
I shot his fellow of the self-fame flight
The felf-fame way, with more advised watch,
To find the other forth; by vent'ring both,
oft found both: I urge this childhood proof, Because what follows is pure innocence.
I owe you much; and, like a wilful youth,
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 uttermoft,
Than if you had made wafte of all I have.