The Merchant of Venice (The Jew of Venice) · chunk 1 of 43
Shakespeare, William · published 1619 · first performed or written 1596 [1596-1598] (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T57 Ships, merchants and pirates · 492 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T57: ship, sea, master, sail, home, money, pisaro, life, ships, till.
Insooth 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 off, whereof it is borne, I am to learn: & 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, Do overpeer 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, Piering in Maps, for Ports, for peers and Rhodes; 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 at sea, might do. I should not see the sandy hourglass run, But I should think of shallows, and of flats, And see my wealthy Andrew docks in sand, Veiling her high top lower than her ribs, To kiss her burial. Should I go to Church, And see the holy edifice of stone, And not bethink me strait of dangerous rocks, Which touching but my gentle vessels side, Would scatter all the spices on the stream, Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks; And in a word, but even now worth this, And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought To think on this, and shall I lack the thought, That such a thing be-chanced would make me sad it But tell not me, I know Anthony Is sad to think upon his merchandise. 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: Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. Then you're in love. Fie, fie. Not in love neither? Then let us 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 laugh like parrots at a bagpiper. And other of such vinegar aspect, That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. Here comes Bassanio your most noble kinsman, Gratiano and Lorenzo: farewell, We leave you now with better company. I would have staid till I had made you merry, If worthier friends had not prevented me.
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)
Inſooth 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 off, whereof it is borne, I am to learne: & ſuch a want-wit ſadnes makes of me, That I haue much adoe to know my ſelfe. Your minde is toſſing on the Ocean, There where your Argoſies with portly ſayle, Like Signiors and rich Burgars on the flood, Or as it were the Pageants of the ſea, Doe ouer-peere the petty traffiquers That curſie to them, do them reuerence As they flie by them with their wouen wings. Beleeue me ſir, had I ſuch venture foorth, The better part of my affections would Be with my hopes abroad, I ſhould be ſtill Plucking the graſſe, to know where ſits the winde, Piering in Maps, for Ports, for Peeres and Rodes; And euery obiect that might make me feare. Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt Would make me ſad. My winde cooling my broth, Would blow me to an Ague, when I thought What harme a winde too great at ſea, might do. I ſhould not ſee the ſandy howre-glaſſe runne, But I ſhould thinke of ſhallowes, and of flats, And ſee my wealthy Andrew dockes in ſand, Veyling her high top lower then her ribs, To kiſſe her buriall. Should I go to Church, And ſee the holy edifice of ſtone, And not bethinke me ſtraight of dangerous rockes, Which touching but my gentle veſſels ſide, Would ſcatter all the ſpices on the ſtreame, Enrobe the roaring waters with my ſilkes; And in a word, but euen now worth this, And now worth nothing? Shall I haue the thought To thinke on this, and ſhall I lacke the thought, That ſuch a thing be-chanc'd would make me ſad it But tell not me, I know Anthonie Is ſad to thinke vpon his merchandize. Beleeue me no: I thanke my fortune for it, My ventures are not in one bottome truſted, Nor to one place; nor is my whole eſtate Vpon the fortune of this preſent yeare: Therefore my merchandize makes me not ſad. Then y'are in loue. Fie, fie. Not in loue neither? Then let vs ſay you are ſad, Becauſe you are not merry: and 'twere as eaſie For you to laugh and leape, and ſay you are merry, Becauſe you are not ſad. Now by two-headed Ianus, Nature hath fram'd ſtrange fellowes in her time: Some that will euermore peepe through their eies, And laugh like Parrats at a bag-piper. And other of ſuch vinegar aſpect, That they'l not ſhew their teeth in way of ſmile, Though Neſtor ſweare the leſt be laughable. Here comes Baſſanio your moſt noble kinſman, Gratiano and Lorenſo: Faryewell, We leaue you now with better company. I would haue ſtaide till I had made you merry, If worthier friends had not preuented me.