I'll end my exhortation after dinner. 104
Lor. 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.
Gra. Well, keep me company but two years moe, 108
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.
Ant. Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear.
Gra. Thanks, i' faith; for silence is only commendable
In a neat's tongue dried and a maid not vendible. 112
Ant. Is that anything now?
Bass. 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 116
bushels of chaff: you shall seek all day ere you
find them, and, when you have them, they are
not worth the search.
Ant. Well, tell me now, what lady is the same 120
To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,
That you to-day promis'd to tell me of?
Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
How much I have disabled mine estate, 124
By something showing a more swelling port
Than my faint means would grant continuance:
Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd
From such a noble rate; but my chief care 128
Is, to come fairly off from the great debts
Wherein my time, something too prodigal,
Hath left me gag'd. To you, Antonio,
I owe the most, in money and in love; 132
108 moe: more
110 gear: indefinite word for business of any kind
112 In a neat's, etc.; cf. n.
116 reasons: sensible ideas
122 That: cf. n.
125 By living in a somewhat more lavish way
127 abridg'd: obliged to desist
128 rate: standard of life
130 time: time of life, youth
131 gag'd: entangled
