Reading The Merchant of Venice — William Shakespeare

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Section 24

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Grati.

Let me play the foole,

With mirth and laughter let old wrinckles come,

And let my Liuer rather heate with wine,

Then my heart coole with mortifying grones.

Why should a man whose bloud is warme within,

Sit like his Grandsire, cut in Alablaster?

Sleepe when he wakes? and creep into the Iaundies

By being peeuish? I tell thee what Anthonio,

I loue thee, and it is my loue that speakes:

There are a sort of men, whose visages

Do creame and mantle like a standing pond,

And do a wilfull stilnesse entertaine,

With purpose to be drest in an opinion

Of wisedome, grauity, profound conceit,

As who should say, I am sir an Oracle,

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