what is the meaning of the sentence like signors and burghers on the flood
Answers
Answer:
ANTONIO
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,
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I am to learn.
And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.
To tell the truth, I don't know why I am so sad. I'm tired of being sad, and you say you're tired of it, too. But I don't know how I caught, found, or came by this sadness; what it's about; or where it came from. And since I don't know anything about this sadness, I clearly have a ways to go in understanding myself.
SALERIO
Your mind is tossing on the ocean,
There, where your argosies with portly sail,
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Like 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.
Your mind is focused on the ocean where your merchant ships are sailing like rich, important men parading on the sea. They tower over the little trade boats that they pass by, sailing along, and it's as if the little boats bow before the greatness of your ships.
SOLANIO
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Believe 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.
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And every object that might make me fear
Misfortune to my ventures out of doubt
Would make me sad.
Believe me, sir, if I were involved in a trade venture like yours, most of my mental energy would be with my ships, as well. I'd be pulling up shoots of grass to use them to check the wind, and looking at maps of ports and piers and roads. And any little thing that might make me worry that something bad would happen to my ships would make me sad, without a doubt.
SALERIO
My wind cooling my broth
Would blow me to an ague when I thought
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What harm a wind too great at sea might do.
I should not see the sandy hourglass run,
But I should think of shallows and of flats
And see my wealthy Andrew docked in sand,
Vailing her high top lower than her ribs
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To kiss her burial. Should I go to church
And see the holy edifice of stone
And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks,
Which, touching but my gentle vessel’s side,
Would scatter all her spices on the stream,
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Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks,
And, in a word, but even now worth this,
And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought
To think on this, and shall I lack the thought
That such a thing bechanced would make me sad?
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But tell not me. I know Antonio
Is sad to think upon his merchandise.
Explanation:
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