The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (451 page)

BASSANIO

I will not fail you.

No problem, I’ll be there.

GRATIANO

You look not well, Signior Antonio;

You have too much respect upon the world:

They lose it that do buy it with much care:

Believe me, you are marvellously changed.

You don’t look so good, Antonio.

You take the world too seriously.

You don’t gain anything by investing so much.

Trust me, you don’t seem quite yourself.

ANTONIO

I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano;

A stage where every man must play a part,

And mine a sad one.

The world is just the world, Gratiano.

A stage where every man must play a part,

And mine is a sad one.

GRATIANO

Let me play the fool:

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come,

And let my liver rather heat with wine

Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.

Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,

Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?

Sleep when he wakes and creep into the jaundice

By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio--

I love thee, and it is my love that speaks--

There are a sort of men whose visages

Do cream and mantle like a standing pond,

And do a wilful stillness entertain,

With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion

Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit,

As who should say 'I am Sir Oracle,

And when I ope my lips let no dog bark!'

O my Antonio, I do know of these

That therefore only are reputed wise

For saying nothing; when, I am very sure,

If they should speak, would almost damn those ears,

Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools.

I'll tell thee more of this another time:

But fish not, with this melancholy bait,

For this fool gudgeon, this opinion.

Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well awhile:

I'll end my exhortation after dinner.

Well then let me play the fool’s part:

I will have fun and laugh until I am wrinkled.

And let me ruin my liver with wine

Rather than my heart be ruined with crying.

Why should a man whose blood is warm

Sit still like the statue of his grandfather carved in stone?

Why should he sleep when he is awake and grow sickly

From being irritable? I’ll tell you what, Antonio-

I love you, and it is my love that speaks when I say

There is a type of man whose face

Becomes frothy and scummy like a stagnant pond,

Who is purposely silent and still,

To try to make others see them as

Wise, respected and important,

As if they are saying ‘I am Mr. Wiseman,

And when I open my mouth, dogs should stop barking!’

Antonio, I know of many men

Who are thought to be very wise

Simply by saying nothing, but I’m sure

If they were to speak, it would be painful to hear

And those hearing them would see them as fools.

I’ll talk more about this some other time.

But for now, stop looking for sadness

It’s foolish to do so, in my opinion.

Come on, Lorenzo, let’s go.

I’ll say more about this after dinner.

LORENZO

Well, we will leave you then till dinner-time:

I must be one of these same dumb wise men,

For Gratiano never lets me speak.

Well, we will see you at dinner time:

I must be one of these dumb wise men

Because Gratiano never lets me speak.

GRATIANO

Well, keep me company but two years moe,

Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.

Well, hang out with me for another couple of years

And you won’t even recognize the sound of your own voice.

ANTONIO

Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear.

See you later. I’ll become a talker after all of this!

GRATIANO

Thanks, i' faith, for silence is only commendable

In a neat's tongue dried and a maid not vendible.

Thanks, and trust me, silence is only good

In a cow’s tongue that’s ready to eat or that of an old maid.

Exeunt GRATIANO and LORENZO

ANTONIO

Is that any thing now?

Is that important what he says?

BASSANIO

Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more

than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two

grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you

shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you

have them, they are not worth the search.

Gratiano says a lot about nothing, more

Than any other man in Venice. The point he tries to make

Is like two grains of wheat hidden in a haystack: you

Spend the whole day looking for them and once

You find them, you realize they weren’t worth the trouble.

ANTONIO

Well, tell me now what lady is the same

To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,

That you to-day promised to tell me of?

So, tell me now who is the girl

You’re taking a secret trip to see?

The one you promised to tell me about today?

BASSANIO

'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,

How much I have disabled mine estate,

By something showing a more swelling port

Than my faint means would grant continuance:

Nor do I now make moan to be abridged

From such a noble rate; but my chief care

Is to come fairly off from the great debts

Wherein my time something too prodigal

Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio,

I owe the most, in money and in love,

And from your love I have a warranty

To unburden all my plots and purposes

How to get clear of all the debts I owe.

Well, as you know, Antonio

I’ve more or less ruined my finances

By living the high life

and spending way beyond my means.

I’m not complaining about have to cut back

From what I was used to spending, and my main concern

Is to be able to pay off all of the debts

that all that time of extravagant overspending

left me with. To you, Antonio,

I owe the most, in both money and appreciation,

And because of your kindness I feel it is my duty

To share with you my plan

For clearing myself of the debts I owe.

ANTONIO

I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it;

And if it stand, as you yourself still do,

Within the eye of honour, be assured,

My purse, my person, my extremest means,

Lie all unlock'd to your occasions.

Please, Bassanio, tell me your plan

And if it sounds solid, as you yourself do,

On my word, you can be certain

That my money, myself and anything I can do for you

Are at your disposal to help you.

BASSANIO

In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft,

I shot his fellow of the self-same flight

The self-same way with more advised watch,

To find the other forth, and by adventuring both

I oft found both: I urge this childhood proof,

Because what follows is pure innocence.

I owe you much, and, like a wilful youth,

That which I owe is lost; but if you please

To shoot another arrow that self way

Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,

As I will watch the aim, or to find both

Or bring your latter hazard back again

And thankfully rest debtor for the first.

Back when I was in school, if I lost an arrow

I would shoot another one in the same direction

In the exact same way, but I’d watch it closer

In order to find the first one, and by shooting both

I found both, most of the time. I tell you this story

Because what I’m about to say may sound silly.

I owe you a lot, and like a stubborn child,

I lost everything I owe you. But if you are willing

To shoot another arrow in the same direction

As the first one you shot for me, I have no doubt

I will watch where it goes and find both

Or, at the very least, bring the second one back

And only owe you for the first.

ANTONIO

You know me well, and herein spend but time

To wind about my love with circumstance;

And out of doubt you do me now more wrong

In making question of my uttermost

Than if you had made waste of all I have:

Then do but say to me what I should do

That in your knowledge may by me be done,

And I am prest unto it: therefore, speak.

You know me well, and you are spending too much time

Going on about our friendship with such detail.

You’re doing more harm by doubting our friendship

And making me wonder about us now

Than if you had destroyed all that I have.

Just tell me what it is you need me to do

And as long as you know I am capable of doing it,

I will do it. So, just tell me what you need.

BASSANIO

In Belmont is a lady richly left;

And she is fair, and, fairer than that word,

Of wondrous virtues: sometimes from her eyes

I did receive fair speechless messages:

Her name is Portia, nothing undervalued

To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia:

Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth,

For the four winds blow in from every coast

Renowned suitors, and her sunny locks

Hang on her temples like a golden fleece;

Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strand,

And many Jasons come in quest of her.

O my Antonio, had I but the means

To hold a rival place with one of them,

I have a mind presages me such thrift,

That I should questionless be fortunate!

In Belmont there is a woman who has inherited a lot of money

And she is beautiful, and even better than that,

She is a good person. Sometimes the way she looks at me

Makes me think she is trying to let me know she likes me.

Her name is Portia, and she is no less valuable

Than the Portia who is Cato’s daughter and married to Brutus:

The whole world knows how wealthy she is,

And the four winds from every direction blow in

Famous suitors, and her blond hair

Falls in her face like the golden fleece in the Greek myth,

And her estate on the coast of Belmont is like Colchos,

And many men come to win her, like Jason in the myth.

Antonio, if I only had the money

To hold my own against them,

I know in my mind I could win her heart,

And I have no doubt I’d be successful!