These are the parents to these children, Ant. E. I came from Corinth, my most gracious lord. Dro. E. And I with him. Ant. E. Brought to this town by that most famous warrior, Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle. Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to-day? Ant. S. I, gentle mistress. Adr. And are not you my husband? Ant. E. No, I say nay to that. Ant. S. And so do I, yet did she call me so; And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here, Did call me brother.-What I told you then, I hope I shall have leisure to make good; If this be not a dream I see and hear. Ang. That is the chain, sir, which you had of me. Ant. S. I think it be, sir; I deny it not. Ant. E. And you, sir, for this chain arrested me. Ang. I think I did, sir; I deny it not. Adr. I sent you money, sir, to be your bail, By Dromio; but I think he brought it not Dro. E. No, none by me. Ant. S. This purse of ducats I received from you, And Dromio, my man, did bring them me. I see we still did meet each other's man, And I was ta'en for him, and he for me; And thereupon these Errors are arose. Ant. E. These ducats pawn I for my father here. Duke. It shall not need; thy father hath his life. Cour. Sir, I must have that diamond from you. Ant. E. There, take it: and much thanks for my good cheer. Abb. Renowned Duke, vouchsafe to take the pains To go with us into the abbey here, And all that are assembled in this place. The Duke, my husband, and my children both, Ant. E. Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou Dro. S. Your goods, that lay at host, sir, in the Centaur. Ant. S. He speaks to me. I am your master, Dromio: Come, go with us; we'll look to that anon: That kitchened me for you to-day at dinner: Dro. E. Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother: SCENE I.-Venice. A Street. ACT I. Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SOLANIO. And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean; That courtesy to them, do them reverence, Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind; And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks, To think on this; and shall I lack the thought That such a thing, bechanced, would make me sad? But tell not me; I know Antonio 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: Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. Salar. Why then you are in love. Ant. Fie, fie! Salar. Not in love neither? Then let us say, you are sad Because you are not merry: and 't were as easy Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time: Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO. Solan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare you well; 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. Salar. Good morrow, my good lords. 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 SOLANIO. Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio, We two will leave you: but at dinner-time Gra. You look not well, Signior Antonio; With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; If they should speak, would almost damn those ears fools. 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 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 com mendable 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; 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, That you, to-day, promised to tell me of? Bass. "T is not unknown to you, Antonio, How much I have disabled mine estate, By something shewing a more swelling port Than my faint means would grant continuance: Nor do I now make moan to be abridged From such a noble rate; but my chief care Is to come fairly off from the great debts Wherein my time, something too prodigal, Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio, |