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 moe, Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.

Thanks, i’ faith, for silence is only commendable In a neat’s tongue dried and a maid not vendible. Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo .

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?