Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of death? It cannot be; it is impossible: Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Which shallow-laughing hearers give to fools: Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Deaf'd with the clamour of their own dear* groans, Right joyful of your reformation. Biron. A twelvemonth? well, befal what will befal. I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. Prin. Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my leave. [To the KING. King. No, madam: we will bring you on your way. Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old play; Jack hath not Jill: these ladies' courtesy Might well have made our sport a comedy. King. Come, Sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day, And then 'twill end. Biron. That's too long for a play. Enter ARMADO. Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,- Dum. The worthy knight of Troy. Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave: I am a votary; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her sweet love three years. But, most esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled, in praise of the owl and the cuckoo? it should have followed in the end of our show. King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so. Enter HOLOFERNES, NATHANIEL, MOTH, COSTARD, and others. This side is Hiems, winter; this Ver, the spring; the one maintained by the owl, the other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin. SONG. Spring. When daisies pied, and violets blue, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue, Cuckoo, cuckoo,-O word of fear, * Dire, sad. II. When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And maidens bleach their summer smocks, Mocks married men, for thus sings he, Cuckoo, cuckoo,-O word of fear, III. Winter. When icicles hang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And milk comes frozen home in pail, To-whit, to-whoo, a merry note, When all aloud the wind doth blow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw, To-whit, to-whoo, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. You, that way; we, this way. [Exeunt. . Wild apples. SCENE.-Partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the seat of Portia, on the Continent. ACT I. SCENE I-Venice. A Street. Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SALANIO. Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad; And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean; As they fly by them with their woven wings. * Ships of large burthen. Salan. Believe me, Sir, had I such venture forth, Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still Salar. My wind, cooling my broth, Would blow me to an ague, when I thought And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks? And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought 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: Ant. Fie, fie! Salan. Not in love neither? Then let's say, you are sad, Because you are not merry: and, 'twere as easy For you, to laugh, and leap, and say, you are merry, Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus, Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time: Some that will evermore peep through their eyes, And other of such vinegar aspect, That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO. Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, Gratiano, and Lorenzo: Fare you well; We leave you now with better company. Salar. I would have staid till I had made you merry, If worthier friends had not prevented me. * Lowering. Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. I take it, your own business calls on you, 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 SALANIO. Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio, We two will leave you: but, at dinner-time, I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. Gra. You look not well, signior Antonio; Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano, Gra. Let me play the Fool: With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice If they should speak, would almost damn those ears, But fish not, with this melancholy bait, For this fool's gudgeon, this opinion. Come, good Lorenzo: Fare ye well, a while; I'll end my exhortation after dinner. Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner-time: I must be one of these same dumb wise men, For Gratiano never lets me speak. 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. |