Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? Say, when?
I take it your own business calls on you, If worthier friends had not prevented me. I would have stay’d till I had made you merry, Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. That they’ll not show their teeth in way of smile Some that will evermore peep through their eyes, Nature hath fram’d strange fellows in her time: Not in love neither? Then let us say you are sadīecause you are not merry and ’twere as easyįor you to laugh and leap and say you are merryīecause you are not sad. Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, That such a thing bechanc’d would make me sad?īelieve me, no. To think on this, and shall I lack the thought Would scatter all her spices on the stream,Īnd now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought Which, touching but my gentle vessel’s side, Should I go to churchĪnd not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks, I should not see the sandy hour-glass runīut I should think of shallows and of flats,Īnd see my wealthy Andrew dock’d in sand,
What harm a wind too great might do at sea. Peering in maps for ports, and piers and roads Plucking the grass to know where sits the wind, Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood,Īs they fly by them with their woven wings.īelieve me, sir, had I such venture forth,īe with my hopes abroad. There where your argosies, with portly sail
What stuff ’tis made of, whereof it is born,
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