The Merchant of Venice. Уильям Шекспир

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СКАЧАТЬ world but as the world, Gratiano –

      A stage, where every man must play a part,

      And mine a sad one.

       Gratiano

      Let me play the fool.

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come;

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      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,

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      By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio –

      I love thee, and ’tis 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,

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      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’.

O my Antonio, I do know of these

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      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.

I’ll tell thee more of this another time.

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      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

Well, we will leave you then till dinner-time.

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      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

Fare you well; I’ll grow a talker for this gear.

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       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

Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice. 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.

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       Antonio

      Well; tell me now what lady is the same

To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,

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      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

Than my faint means would grant continuance;

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      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. To you, Antonio,

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      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

I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it;

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      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

In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft,

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      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. I urge this childhood proof,

Because what follows is pure innocence.

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      I owe you much; and, like a wilful youth,

      That which I owe is lost; but if you please

      To shoot another arrow that self way

      Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,

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