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

by William Shakespeare

  If friends you are closer to hadn’t shown up.

  ANTONIO

  Your worth is very dear in my regard.

  I take it, your own business calls on you

  And you embrace the occasion to depart.

  You are worth much to me in that way.

  I’m thinking your own business needs you

  And you are taking the chance to leave.

  SALARINO

  Good morrow, my good lords.

  Hello, my good men!

  BASSANIO

  Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say, when?

  You grow exceeding strange: must it be so?

  Hello, both of you. When will we get together for fun? When?

  I never see you these days. Does it have to be that way?

  SALARINO

  We'll make our leisures to attend on yours.

  We’ll be available whenever you want to get together.

  Exeunt Salarino and Salanio

  LORENZO

  My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio,

  We two will leave you: but at dinner-time,

  I pray you, have in mind where we must meet.

  Bassanio, since you have found Antonio,

  We will go ahead. But at dinner time

  Don’t forget we’re getting together.

  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 lif
e

  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!

  ANTONIO

  Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea;

  Neither have I money nor commodity

  To raise a present sum: therefore go forth;

  Try what my credit can in Venice do:

  That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost,

  To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia.

  Go, presently inquire, and so will I,

  Where money is, and I no question make

  To have it of my trust or for my sake.

  You know that all my money is invested in my ships,

  And I don’t have the money on hand or the goods

  To raise the cash you need. So, let’s go

  And see what my good credit in Venice can drum up:

  We’ll get as big a loan as possible

  To provide what you need to get to Belmont and beautiful Portia.

  Go ask around, and so will I,

  Let’s find out where the money is and I won’t hesitate

  To sign for it in my name.

  Exeunt

  Enter PORTIA and NERISSA

  PORTIA

  By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of

  this great world.

  My word, but my little body is so tired of this big world.

  NERISSA

  You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in

  the same abundance as your good fortunes are: and

  yet, for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit

  with too much as they that starve with nothing. It

  is no mean happiness therefore, to be seated in the

  mean: superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but

  competency lives longer.

  You would be tired, as well, if your troubles were in

  the same proportion as your fortunes are, and

  yet, from what I see, people who have too much get as sick

  from having too much as those who starve and have nothing. It

  is no small happiness, therefore, to be right in the

  middle: having too much ages one faster, while

  having just enough extends your life.

  PORTIA

  Good sentences and well pronounced.

  True words, and well spoken.

  NERISSA

  They would be better, if well followed.

  They would be even better if you followed them.

  PORTIA

  If to do were as easy as to know what were good to

  do, chapels had been churches and poor men's

  cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that

  follows his own instructions: I can easier teach


  twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the

  twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may

  devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps

  o'er a cold decree: such a hare is madness the

  youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the

  cripple. But this reasoning is not in the fashion to

  choose me a husband. O me, the word 'choose!' I may

  neither choose whom I would nor refuse whom I

  dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curbed

  by the will of a dead father. Is it not hard,

  Nerissa, that I cannot choose one nor refuse none?

  If it were as easy to do as it is to know what good to

  do, small chapels would be great churches and poor men’s

  cottages would become prince’s palaces. It is a good priest who

  follows his own instructions: I can easier teach

  twenty people of the good that can be done than be one of the

  twenty to follow my own teaching. The brain can

  come up with laws for the blood, but a hot temper overtakes

  a well-thought out decision: just like a rabbit,

  young people jump over the nets of good advice

  held by crippled old men. But thinking in this way is not the sort that

  will help choose a husband. Oh, my! The word ‘choose!’ I can

  not choose who I’d like or refuse who I

  don’t like; such is the fate of a living daughter restricted

  by the wishes of a dead father. It’s hard, isn’t it,

  Nerissa, that I can’t choose one or refuse any?

  NERISSA

  Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men at their

  death have good inspirations: therefore the lottery,

  that he hath devised in these three chests of gold,

  silver and lead, whereof who chooses his meaning

  chooses you, will, no doubt, never be chosen by any

  rightly but one who shall rightly love. But what

  warmth is there in your affection towards any of