Claud. Ay, but to die, and go we know not where,
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot:
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit
To bathe in fiery floods or to reside
In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice;
To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence about
The pendent world; or to be worse than worst
Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts
Imagine howling!-'tis too horrible!
The weariest and most loathed worldly life,
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a paradise
To what we fear of death.
MIRTH AND MELANCHOLY.
Now, by two-headed Janus,
Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time Some that will evermore peep through their eyes, And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper;
And other of such vinegar aspect,
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.
You have too much respect upon the world :
They lose it that do buy it with much care.
CHEERFULNESS.
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.
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ?
Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice
By being peevish?
THE WORLD'S TRUE VALUE.
I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; A stage, where every man must play a part.
THE JEW'S EXPOSTULATION.
Signior Antonio, many a time and oft,
In the Rialto you have rated me
About my monies, and my usances :*
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug;
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe;
You call me-misbeliever, cut-throat dog,
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine,
And all for use of that which is mine own.
Well, then, it now appears you need my help :
Go to, then; you come to me and you say,
Shylock, we would have monies: you say so,
You that did void your rheum upon my beard,
And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cur
Over your threshold; monies is your suit.
What should I say to you? Should I not say,
Hath a dog money? is it possible
A cur can lend three thousand ducats? or
Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key,
With 'bated breath, and whispering humbleness,
Say this-
Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last,
You spurned me such a day, another time
You call'd me-dog; and for these courtesies
I'll lend you thus much monies!
A GOOD DEED COMPARED.
How far that little candle throws his beams!
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
THE JEW'S MALICE.
Bass. This is signior Antonio.
Shy. [Aside.] How like a fawning publican he looks! I hate him, for he is a Christian :
But more, for that, in low simplicity,
He lends out money gratis, and brings down
The rate of usance here with us in Venice.
If I can catch him once upon the hip,
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
He hates our sacred nation; and he rails,
Even there where merchants most do congregate,
On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift,
Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe,
If I forgive him!
AFFECTED GRAVITY.
I tell thee what, Antonio,
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks;-
There are a sort of men, whose visages
Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond;
And do a wilful stillness entertain,
With purpose to be dressed 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!
O, my Antonio, I do know of these,
That therefore only are reputed wise,
For saying nothing.
GRAVITY ASSUMED.
Signior Bassanio, hear me :
If I do not put on a sober habit,
Talk with respect, and swear but now and then,
Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely;
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say, Amen ;
Use all the observance of civility,
Like one well studied in a sad ostent*
To please his grandam, never trust me more.
THE JEW'S COMMANDS TO HIS DAUGHTER.
Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum,
And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fife,
Clamber not you up to the casements then,
Nor thrust your head into the public street,
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces:
But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements;
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter
My sober house.
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