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Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,
time : I must be one of these same dumb wise men, For Gratiano never lets me speak.
Gra. Weil, 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.
[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 thema : and, when you have them, they are not worth the search.
3 Obstinate silence.
Ant. Well; tell me now, what lady is this same
Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
faint means would grant continuance:
Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it;
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 oft found both : I urge this childhood proof, Because what follows is
did shoot the first, I do not doubt,
first. Ant. You know me well; and herein spend bụt
time, To wind about my love with circumstance; And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong,
In making question of my uttermost,
had made waste of all I have:
Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left,
my credit can in Venice do;
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: 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 therefore, to be seated in the mean ; superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer.
Por. Good sentences, and well pronounced.
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, than be one of the twenty to follow minę own teaching. But this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me a hus
O me, the word choose ! I may neither choose 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 choose one, nor refuse none ?
Ner. Your father was ever virtuous ; and holy men, at their death, have good inspirations; therefore, the lottery, that he hath devised in these three chests, of gold, silver, and lead, (whereof who chooses his meaning, chooses you,) will, no doubt, never be chosen by any rightly, but one who you shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in your affection towards
any of these princely suitors that are already come?
Por. I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou namest 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 great appropriation to his own good parts, that he can shoe him himself.
Ner. Then, is there the county. Palatine.
Por. He doth nothing but frown; as who should say, An if you will not have me, choose ; 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's head with a bone in his mouth, than to either of these. Heaven defend me from these two!
Ner. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon ?
Por. Heaven made him, and therefore let him pass 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 straight a capering; he wilí 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.
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 pennyworth in the English. He is a proper man's picture ; But, alas ! who can converse with a dumb show? How