1 You look not well, Signior Antonio, You have too much respect upon the world.
2 Well, keep me company but two years moe, Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.
3 I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano, A stage, where every man must play a part, And mine a sad one.
4 And other of such vinegar aspect That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.
5 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.
6 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.
7 O my Antonio, had I but the means To hold a rival place with one of them, I have a mind presages me such thrift That I should questionless be fortunate.
8 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.
9 To you, Antonio, I owe the most in money and in love, And from your love I have a warranty To unburden all my plots and purposes How to get clear of all the debts I owe.
10 Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd 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 gag'd.
11 I should not see the sandy hour-glass run But I should think of shallows and of flats, And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand, Vailing her high top lower than her ribs To kiss her burial.
12 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.
13 I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; And if it stand, as you yourself still do, Within the eye of honour, be assur'd My purse, my person, my extremest means Lie all unlock'd to your occasions.
14 I should be still Plucking the grass to know where sits the wind, Peering in maps for ports, and piers and roads; And every object that might make me fear Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt Would make me sad.
15 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.
16 Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth, For the four winds blow in from every coast Renowned suitors, and her sunny locks Hang on her temples like a golden fleece, Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strond, And many Jasons come in quest of her.
17 Your mind is tossing on the ocean, There where your argosies, with portly sail Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, Or as it were the pageants of the sea, Do overpeer the petty traffickers That curtsy to them, do them reverence, As they fly by them with their woven wings.
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