_Salar_. 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 hour-glass run, But I should think of shallows and of flats; And see my wealthy Andrew[4] dock'd in sand, Vailing her high-top[5] lower than her ribs, To kiss her burial. Shall I have the thought To think on this? and shall I lack the thought That such a thing, bechanc'd, would make me sad? But tell not me; I know Antonio Is sad to think upon his merchandize. _Ant_. 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 merchandize makes me not sad. _Salar_. Why, then, you are in love. _Ant_. Fie, fie! _Salar_. Not in love, neither? Then let us say you are sad, Because you are not merry: an 'twere as easy For you to laugh and leap, and say you are merry, Because you are not sad. _Sal_. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, Gratiano, and Lorenzo: Fare you well; We leave you now with better company. _Salar_. I would have staid till I had made you merry, If worthier friends had not prevented me. _Ant_. Your worth is very dear in my regard. I take it your own business calls on you, And you embrace the occasion to depart. _Enter_ BASSANIO, LORENZO, _and_ GRATIANO. _Salar_. Good morrow, my good lords. _Bas_. Good signiors, both, when shall we laugh? Say, when? You grow exceeding strange: Must it be so? _Salar_. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. [_Exeunt_ SALARINO _and_ SALANIO. _Lor_. My lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio, We two will leave you; but at dinner-time I pray you have in mind where we must meet. _Bas_. I will not fail you. _Gra_. You look not well, Signor Antonio; You have too much respect upon the world: They lose it that do buy it with much care. Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd. _Ant_. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; A stage, where every man must play a part, And mine a sad one.