The Merchant of Venice (The Jew of Venice) · chunk 1 of 39
Shakespeare, William · published 1600 · first performed or written 1596 [1596-1598] (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T57 Ships, merchants and pirates · 528 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T57: ship, sea, master, sail, home, money, pisaro, life, ships, till.
IN sooth I know not why I am so sad, It wearies me, you say it wearies you; But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is borne, I am to learn: and such a want-wit sadness makes of me, That I have much ado to know myself. Your mind is tossing on the Ocean, There where your Argosies with portly sail Like Signiors and rich Burgars on the flood, Or as it were the Pageants of the sea, Doc over-peere the petty traffickers That curtsy to them do them reverence As they fly by them with their woven wings. Believe me sir, had I such venture forth, The better part of my affections would Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still Plucking the grass to know where sits the wind, Piring in Maps for ports, and peers and roads: And every object that might make me fear Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt Would make me sad. My wind cooling my broth, Would blow me to an ague when I thought What harm a wind too great might do at sea. I should not see the sandy hourglass run But I should think of shallows and of flatts, And see my wealthy Andrew docks in sand For saying nothing; when I am very sure If they should speak, would almost damn those ears which hearing them would call their brother's fools, I'll tell thee more of this another time. But fish not with this melancholy bait For this fool gudgeon, this opinion: Come good Lorenzo, fareyewell a while, I'll end my exhortation after dinner. 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. Well keep me company but two years more Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. Far you well, I'll grow a talker for this gear. Thanks i'faith, for silence is only commendable In a neats togue dried, and a maid not vendable. It is that any thing now. 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. Well, tell me now what Lady is the same To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage That you to day promised to tell me of. 'tis not unknown to you Anthonio How much I have disabled mine estate, By something showing a more swelling port Then my faint means would grant continuance: Nor do I now make moan to be abridged From such a noble rate, but my chief care Is to come fairly of from the great debts wherein my time something too prodigal Hath left me gagd: to you Anthonio 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.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
IN ſooth I know not why I am ſo ſad, It wearies me, you ſay it wearies you; But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, What ſtuffe tis made of, whereof it is borne, I am to learne: and ſuch a want-wit ſadnes makes of mee, That I haue much adoe to know my ſelfe. Your minde is toſſing on the Ocean, There where your Argoſies with portlie ſayle Like Signiors and rich Burgars on the flood, Or as it were the Pageants of the ſea, Doc ouer-peere the petty traffiquers That curſie to them do them reuerence As they flie by them with theyr wouen wings. Beleeue mee ſir, had I ſuch venture forth, The better part of my affections would Be with my hopes abroade. I ſhould be ſtill Plucking the graſſe to know where ſits the wind, Piring in Maps for ports, and peers and rodes: And euery obiect that might make me feare Miſ-fortune to my ventures, out of doubt Would make me ſad. My wind cooling my broth, VVould blow me to an ague when I thought VVhat harme a winde too great might doe at ſea. I ſhould not ſee the ſandie howre-glaſſe runne But I ſhould thinke of ſhallowes and of flatts, And ſee my wealthy Andrew docks in ſand For ſaying nothing; when I am very ſure If they ſhould ſpeake, would almoſt dam thoſe eares vvhich hearing them would call their brothers fooles, Ile tell thee more of this another time. But fiſh not with this melancholy baite For this foole gudgin, this opinion: Come good Lorenſo, faryewell a while, Ile end my exhortation after dinner. Well, we will leaue you then till dinner time. I muſt be one of theſe ſame dumbe wiſe men, For Gratiano neuer lets me ſpeake. Well keepe me company but two yeeres moe Thou ſhalt not know the ſound of thine owne tongue. Far you well, Ile grow a talker for this geare. Thanks yfaith, for ſilence is onely commendable In a neates togue dried, and a mayde not vendable. It is that any thing now. Gratiano ſpeakes an infinite deale of nothing more then any man in all Venice; his reaſons are as two graines of wheate hid in two buſhels of chaffe: you ſhall ſeeke all day ere you finde them, and when you haue them, they are not worth the ſearch. VVell, tell me now what Lady is the ſame To whom you ſwore a ſecrete pilgrimage That you to day promiſd to tell me of. Tis not vnknowne to you Anthonio How much I haue diſabled mine eſtate, By ſomething ſhowing a more ſwelling port Then my faint meanes would graunt continuance: Nor doe I now make mone to be abridg'd From ſuch a noble rate, but my cheefe care Is to come fairely of from the great debts vvherein my time ſomething too prodigall Hath left me gagd: to you Anthonio I owe the moſt in money and in loue, And from your loue I haue a warrantie To vnburthen all my plots and purpoſes How to get cleere of all the debts I owe.