The Merchant of Venice

There are a sort of men whose visages

Do cream and mantle like a standing pond,

With purpose to be dress’d in an opinion

Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;

As who should say ‘I am Sir Oracle,

And when I ope my lips let no dog bark’.

That therefore only are reputed wise

For saying nothing; when, I am very sure,

If they should speak, would almost damn those ears

Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools.

But fish not with this melancholy bait

For this fool gudgeon, this opinion.

Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well awhile;

I’ll end my exhortation after dinner.

Lorenzo

I must be one of these same dumb wise men,

For Gratiano never lets me speak.

Gratiano

Well, keep me company but two years moe,

Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.

Antonio

Gratiano

Thanks, i’ faith, for silence is only commendable

In a neat’s tongue dried, and a maid not vendible.

[Exeunt GRATIANO and LORENZO.]

Antonio

Is that anything now?

Bassanio

Antonio

Well; tell me now what lady is the same

That you to-day promis’d to tell me of?

Bassanio

’Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,

How much I have disabled mine estate

By something showing a more swelling port

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,

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.

Antonio

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.

Bassanio

I shot his fellow of the self-same flight