Act I

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 bag-piper,

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. Fare ye well:

We leave you now with better company.

I would have stay’d till I had made you merry,

If worthier friends had not prevented me.

Your worth is very dear in my regard.

I take it, your own business calls on you

And you embrace the occasion to depart.

Good morrow, my good lords.

Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say, when?

You grow exceeding strange: must it be so?