The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (476 page)

I think music sounds sweeter at night than during the day.

NERISSA

Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.

The quiet of night gives it that quality, madam.

PORTIA

The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark,

When neither is attended, and I think

The nightingale, if she should sing by day,

When every goose is cackling, would be thought

No better a musician than the wren.

How many things by season season'd are

To their right praise and true perfection!

Peace, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion

And would not be awaked.

The crow sings as sweetly as the lark does

When neither is listened to. I think

The nightingale—if it were to sing by day,

When all the geese are cackling—would be no better regarded

As a musician than the common wren.

How many things are made to seem right

and praised as perfect if they come at the right time!

Quiet, now! The moon sleeps with its lover Endymion

And will not be awoken.

Music ceases

LORENZO

That is the voice,

Or I am much deceived, of Portia.

That is the voice

of Portia, if I am not mistaken.

PORTIA

He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo,

By the bad voice.

He recognizes me like the blind man recognizes the cuckoo—

by its bad voice.

LORENZO

Dear lady, welcome home.

Dear lady, welcome home.

PORTIA

We have been praying for our husbands' healths,

Which speed, we hope, the better for our words.

Are they return'd?

We have been praying for our husbands’ health.

We hope they are better off for our words.

Have they come back, yet?

LORENZO

Madam, they are not yet;

But there is come a messenger before,

To signify their coming.

Madam, they are not back yet.

But a messenger came earliet

And said they are on their way.

PORTIA

Go in, Nerissa;

Give order to my servants that they take

No note at all of our being absent hence;

Nor you, Lorenzo; Jessica, nor you.

Go inside, Nerissa.

Tell the servants they must not mention

That we have been gone.

You neither, Lorenzo, or you, Jessica.

A tucket sounds

LORENZO

Your husband is at hand; I hear his trumpet:

We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not.

Your husband is here—I hear his trumpet

We are not tattle-tales, madam, don’t worry.

PORTIA

This night methinks is but the daylight sick;

It looks a little paler: 'tis a day,

Such as the day is when the sun is hid.

I think this night looks like sick daylight.

It looks a little paler. It’s like a day

When the sun is hidden.

Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and their followers

BASSANIO

We should hold day with the Antipodes,

If you would walk in absence of the sun.

It is daylight on the other side of the world,

While you walk here at night.

PORTIA

Let me give light, but let me not be light;

For a light wife doth make a heavy husband,

And never be Bassanio so for me:

But God sort all! You are welcome home, my lord.

I will give light, as in joy, but I will not be light, as in promiscuous,

Since a wife who is light in that regard makes her husband heavy-hearted.

Bassanio will never feel that way because of me,

But God will sort it all out. Welcome home, my lord.

BASSANIO

I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my friend.

This is the man, this is Antonio,

To whom I am so infinitely bound.

Thank you, madam. Please welcome my friend.

This is Antonio, who I told you about—

The one I am forever indebted to.

PORTIA

You should in all sense be much bound to him.

For, as I hear, he was much bound for you.

You should in all senses of the word be indebted to him,

As I hear he was very much indebted to you.

ANTONIO

No more than I am well acquitted of.

I have been paid back for all of it very well.

PORTIA

Sir, you are very welcome to our house:

It must appear in other ways than words,

Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.

Sir, you are very welcome in our house.

But what we see says more than words can,

So I will cut this polite talk short.

GRATIANO

[To NERISSA] By yonder moon I swear you do me wrong;

In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk:

Would he were gelt that had it, for my part,

Since you do take it, love, so much at heart.

[To NERISSA] By the moon in the sky I swear you’ve got it wrong.

I really did give it to the judge’s clerk.

He should have been castrasted, as far as I’m concerned,

For as much as it is upsetting you.

PORTIA

A quarrel, ho, already! what's the matter?

An argument already! What is the matter?

GRATIANO

About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring

That she did give me, whose posy was

For all the world like cutler's poetry

Upon a knife, 'Love me, and leave me not.'

It’s about a hoop of gold, a trivial ring

That she gave to me that had a little inscription on it

That was nothing more that a knife-maker’s poem.

It said: ‘Love me and don’t leave me.’

NERISSA

What talk you of the posy or the value?

You swore to me, when I did give it you,

That you would wear it till your hour of death

And that it should lie with you in your grave:

Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,

You should have been respective and have kept it.

Gave it a judge's clerk! no, God's my judge,

The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it.

Are you talking about the inscription or the value?

You swore to me, when I gave it to you.

That you would wear it until you died,

And that it would be buried with you in your grave.

If not for me, then for the vows you made,

You should have been respectful and kept it.

You gave it to a judge’s clerk! No, as God is my judge—

The ‘clerk’ you gave it to will never grow hair on their face.

GRATIANO

He will, an if he live to be a man.

He will if he lives to be a man.

NERISSA

Ay, if a woman live to be a man.

Right, if a woman lives to be a man.

GRATIANO

Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth,

A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy,

No higher than thyself; the judge's clerk,

A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee:

I could not for my heart deny it him.

I swear by my hand, I gave it to a young man.

Almost a boy, a little stubby boy—

No taller than you—the judge’s clerk,

A boy who talked a lot and begged it as a fee.

I couldn’t find it in my heart to say no.

PORTIA

You were to blame, I must be plain with you,

To part so slightly with your wife's first gift:

A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger

And so riveted with faith unto your flesh.

I gave my love a ring and made him swear

Never to part with it; and here he stands;

I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it

Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth

That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano,

You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief:

An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it.

I will speak plainly: you were wrong.

To so easily give away your wife’s first gift—

A thing stuck onto your finger with vows,

and fastened with faith to your flesh.

I gave my lover a ring and made him swear

Never to part with it. Here he stands,

And will be so bold to say he would not lose it

Or take it from his finger for all the wealth

In the world. So, to be sure, Gratiano,

You give your wife reason to grieve,

and if it were me, I’d be angry, too.

BASSANIO

[Aside] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off

And swear I lost the ring defending it.

[Aside] It would be best if I could cut my left hand off

And swear I lost the ring defending it.

GRATIANO

My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away

Unto the judge that begg'd it and indeed

Deserved it too; and then the boy, his clerk,

That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine;

And neither man nor master would take aught

But the two rings.

Bassanio gave his ring away, as well,

To the judge that asked for it and did, to be certain,

Deserved it. Then the boy, his clerk,

Who took so much trouble in the writings—he wanted my ring,

And neither man would take anything

But the two rings.

PORTIA

What ring gave you my lord?

Not that, I hope, which you received of me.

Which ring did you give, my lord?

I hope it’s not the one I gave to you.

BASSANIO

If I could add a lie unto a fault,

I would deny it; but you see my finger

Hath not the ring upon it; it is gone.

If I could lie very well,

I would deny it. But you can see my finger

Does not have a ring on it. It is gone.

PORTIA

Even so void is your false heart of truth.

By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed

Until I see the ring.

Your heart is empty of truth.

By heaven, I will never come into your bed

Until I see that ring.

NERISSA

Nor I in yours

Till I again see mine.

I won’t come into yours, either,

Until I see my ring again.

BASSANIO

Sweet Portia,

If you did know to whom I gave the ring,

If you did know for whom I gave the ring

And would conceive for what I gave the ring

And how unwillingly I left the ring,

When nought would be accepted but the ring,