Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and
In sooth, 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 of, whereof it is born,
5I am to learn.
And 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,
10Like signors and rich burghers 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.
15Believe 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,
Peering in maps for ports and piers and roads.
20And every object that might make me fear
Misfortune to my ventures out of doubt
Would make me sad.