The Merchant of Venice Act 2 Scene 6
Venice. Before Shylock's house.
The Original
Plain Modern English
Enter the masquers, Gratiano and Salarino.
Gratiano
This is the penthouse under which Lorenzo
Desired us to make stand.
Gratiano
This is the overhang Lorenzo asked us
to wait under.
Salarino
His hour is almost past.
Salarino
His time is nearly up.
Gratiano
And it is marvel he outdwells his hour,
For lovers ever run before the clock.
Gratiano
It's a wonder he's running late,
because lovers are always ahead of the clock.
Salarino
O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly
To seal love's bonds new-made than they are wont
To keep obligèd faith unforfeited.
Salarino
Oh, Venus's doves fly ten times faster
to seal a new love-contract than they ever do
to keep an old promise from lapsing.
Gratiano
That ever holds. Who riseth from a feast
With that keen appetite that he sits down?
Where is the horse that doth untread again
His tedious measures with the unbated fire
That he did pace them first? All things that are,
Are with more spirit chasèd than enjoyed.
How like a younger or a prodigal
The scarfèd bark puts from her native bay,
Hugged and embracèd by the strumpet wind;
How like the prodigal doth she return
With overweathered ribs and raggèd sails,
Lean, rent, and beggared by the strumpet wind!
Gratiano
That's always true. Who gets up from a feast
with the same sharp appetite he sat down with?
Where's the horse that retraces
his weary paces with the same undimmed fire
he set out with? Everything that exists
is chased with more spirit than it's enjoyed with.
How like a younger son, or a spendthrift,
the flag-decked ship sets out from her home harbour,
hugged and embraced by the whorish wind —
and how like a spendthrift she comes home,
with weather-beaten hull and tattered sails,
thin, torn and bankrupted by that same whorish wind.
Enter Lorenzo.
Salarino
Here comes Lorenzo. More of this hereafter.
Salarino
Here comes Lorenzo. More of this later.
Lorenzo
Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode.
Not I but my affairs have made you wait.
When you shall please to play the thieves for wives,
I'll watch as long for you then. Approach.
Here dwells my father Jew.—Ho! Who's within?
Lorenzo
Dear friends — forgive me for keeping you so long.
It wasn't me but my business that kept you waiting.
When you decide to turn thief for a wife yourselves,
I'll wait just as long for you. Come closer. (He calls it theft himself, to his friends, as a joke.)
This is where my father-in-law the Jew lives. — Hello! Who's inside?
Enter Jessica above, dressed as a boy.
Jessica
Who are you? Tell me for more certainty,
Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue.
Jessica
Who are you? Tell me, to be certain —
though I'd swear I know your voice.
Lorenzo
Lorenzo, and thy love.
Lorenzo
Lorenzo. And your love.
Jessica
Lorenzo certain, and my love indeed,
For who love I so much? And now who knows
But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours?
Jessica
Lorenzo for certain, and my love indeed —
for who else do I love so much? And who now knows,
except you, Lorenzo, whether I'm yours?
Lorenzo
Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art.
Lorenzo
Heaven and your own thoughts are witness that you are.
Jessica
Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains.
I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me,
For I am much ashamed of my exchange.
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see
The pretty follies that themselves commit,
For if they could, Cupid himself would blush
To see me thus transformèd to a boy.
Jessica
Here — catch this casket. It's worth the trouble.
I'm glad it's night and you can't see me,
because I'm thoroughly ashamed of my change of clothes.
But love is blind, and lovers can't see
the pretty follies they commit themselves —
because if they could, Cupid himself would blush
to see me turned into a boy like this.
Lorenzo
Descend, for you must be my torchbearer.
Lorenzo
Come down — you're to be my torchbearer.
Jessica
What, must I hold a candle to my shames?
They in themselves, good sooth, are too too light.
Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love,
And I should be obscured.
Jessica
What — must I hold a candle up to my own disgrace?
Truly, it's far too well lit already.
Carrying a torch is a job that shows things up, my love,
and I ought to be hidden.
Lorenzo
So are you, sweet,
Even in the lovely garnish of a boy.
But come at once,
For the close night doth play the runaway,
And we are stayed for at Bassanio's feast.
Lorenzo
And so you are, sweetheart —
hidden in that lovely get-up of a boy.
But come at once,
because the concealing night is running away from us
and we're expected at Bassanio's feast.
Jessica
I will make fast the doors and gild myself
With some more ducats, and be with you straight.
Jessica
I'll lock the doors and gild myself
with a few more ducats, and be with you right away. (She said she was ashamed — of the clothes. Not of the casket she has just dropped into the street, and not of going back indoors for a second helping of her father's money, which is her own idea.)
Jessica exits, above.
Gratiano
Now, by my hood, a gentle and no Jew!
Gratiano
By my hood, there's a gentle girl and no Jew. (The Gentile pun for the third time. Antonio aimed it at Shylock, Lorenzo at Jessica, and Gratiano now makes the arithmetic explicit: she is gentle, therefore she is not a Jew.)
Lorenzo
Beshrew me but I love her heartily,
For she is wise, if I can judge of her,
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true,
And true she is, as she hath proved herself.
And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true,
Shall she be placèd in my constant soul.
Lorenzo
Curse me if I don't love her with all my heart,
because she is wise, as far as I can judge,
and beautiful, if my eyes are telling the truth,
and true, as she has just proved herself to be.
And so, being herself — wise, beautiful and true —
she shall be set in my faithful soul.
Enter Jessica, below.
Lorenzo
What, art thou come? On, gentleman, away!
Our masquing mates by this time for us stay.
Lorenzo
Ah — you've come. On, gentlemen, away!
Our fellow masquers will be waiting for us by now.
All but Gratiano exit.
Enter Antonio.
Antonio
Who's there?
Antonio
Who's there?
Gratiano
Signior Antonio?
Gratiano
Signior Antonio?
Antonio
Fie, fie, Gratiano, where are all the rest?
'Tis nine o'clock! Our friends all stay for you.
No masque tonight; the wind is come about;
Bassanio presently will go aboard.
I have sent twenty out to seek for you.
Antonio
For shame, Gratiano — where are all the others?
It's nine o'clock. Our friends are all waiting for you.
No masque tonight — the wind has changed.
Bassanio is going aboard shortly.
I've sent twenty men out looking for you.
Gratiano
I am glad on 't. I desire no more delight
Than to be under sail and gone tonight.
Gratiano
I'm glad of it. I want no greater pleasure
than to be under sail and away tonight.
They exit.