The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (464 page)

with to Venice swear that he has no choice but to break his promise to pay you.

SHYLOCK

I am very glad of it: I'll plague him; I'll torture

him: I am glad of it.

I am glad to know this. I will torment and torture

him about it. I am glad to know this.

TUBAL

One of them showed me a ring that he had of your

daughter for a monkey.

One of the creditors showed me a ring he had of yours

that your daughter had given him to pay for a monkey.

SHYLOCK

Out upon her! Thou torturest me, Tubal: it was my

turquoise; I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor:

I would not have given it for a wilderness of monkeys.

I am so angry with her! That tortured me, Tubal—that was my

turquoise ring. Leah gave it to me before we were married.

I would not have given it up for a jungle full of monkeys.

TUBAL

But Antonio is certainly undone.

Antonio is certainly ruined.

SHYLOCK

Nay, that's true, that's very true. Go, Tubal, fee

me an officer; bespeak him a fortnight before. I

will have the heart of him, if he forfeit; for, were

he out of Venice, I can make what merchandise I

will. Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue;

go, good Tubal; at our synagogue, Tubal.

That’s true, very true. Go, Tubal, and pay

a police officer to arrest Antonio. Speak with him two weeks ahead of time. I

will have the heart of Antonio if he forfeits. If he

was not in Venice, I can make whatever deals I

want. Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue.

Go, good Tubal. I’ll see you there, Tubal.

Exeunt

Enter BASSANIO, PORTIA, GRATIANO, NERISSA, and Attendants

PORTIA

I pray you, tarry: pause a day or two

Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong,

I lose your company: therefore forbear awhile.

There's something tells me, but it is not love,

I would not lose you; and you know yourself,

Hate counsels not in such a quality.

But lest you should not understand me well,--

And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,--

I would detain you here some month or two

Before you venture for me. I could teach you

How to choose right, but I am then forsworn;

So will I never be: so may you miss me;

But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin,

That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes,

They have o'erlook'd me and divided me;

One half of me is yours, the other half yours,

Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,

And so all yours. O, these naughty times

Put bars between the owners and their rights!

And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so,

Let fortune go to hell for it, not I.

I speak too long; but 'tis to peize the time,

To eke it and to draw it out in length,

To stay you from election.

I beg you, please wait a day or two

Before you make your guess. If you choose wrong

I will lose your company. So, wait awhile.

There’s something tells me, but it’s not love,

That I will not lose you, and you know yourself

That I would not feel that way if I hated you.

But just in case you don’t understand me well—

And because girls aren’t really supposed to say what’s on our minds—

I would like for you to stay here a month or two

Before you take a chance to win me. I could tell you

How to choose correctly, but I am sworn not to,

So I won’t do that. So, you might lose me.

But if you do, you’ll make me wish I’d done the wrong thing—

That I had told you even though I swore I will not. Your eyes tempt me.

They have looked me over and have divided me.

One half of me is yours, and the other half is yours, too—

The half that should be mine, but if it’s mine, then it’s yours,

So it is all yours. But these awful times

Put obstacles between the owners and their claim!

And so, even so I am yours, I am not yours. If this proves to be the case

Then it is because luck has gone bad, not because of me.

I’m talking too much. It’s just to prolong time,

To stretch it out and draw it out,

And to keep you from making your choice.

BASSANIO

Let me choose

For as I am, I live upon the rack.

Let me choose.

Not knowing like this is torturing me.

PORTIA

Upon the rack, Bassanio! then confess

What treason there is mingled with your love.

Punished for your crime, Bassanio! Then do confess

What betrayal in mixed in with your love.

BASSANIO

None but that ugly treason of mistrust,

Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love:

There may as well be amity and life

'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love.

Simply the ugly betrayal of not being able to trust

I will even be able to enjoy you as my love.

There is as much relation between

Snow and fire as there is between betrayal and my love for you.

PORTIA

Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack,

Where men enforced do speak anything.

Ah, but I’m afraid you might be speaking like one who is being punished

Who will say anything under the stress.

BASSANIO

Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth.

Promise you will let me live and I’ll confess the truth.

PORTIA

Well then, confess and live.

Well, in that case, confess and live.

BASSANIO

'Confess' and 'love'

Had been the very sum of my confession:

O happy torment, when my torturer

Doth teach me answers for deliverance!

But let me to my fortune and the caskets.

‘Confess’ and ‘love’

Is what my confession amounts to:

Oh, what happy torture, when my tormenter

Tells me the answers that set me free!

But please let me take my chances with the trunks.

PORTIA

Away, then! I am lock'd in one of them:

If you do love me, you will find me out.

Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof.

Let music sound while he doth make his choice;

Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end,

Fading in music: that the comparison

May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream

And watery death-bed for him. He may win;

And what is music then? Then music is

Even as the flourish when true subjects bow

To a new-crowned monarch: such it is

As are those dulcet sounds in break of day

That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear,

And summon him to marriage. Now he goes,

With no less presence, but with much more love,

Than young Alcides, when he did redeem

The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy

To the sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice

The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives,

With bleared visages, come forth to view

The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules!

Live thou, I live: with much, much more dismay

I view the fight than thou that makest the fray.

Well, let’s go then! I am locked inside one of them.

If you love me, you will figure out which one.

Nerissa and everybody else, stand back from him.

Let music play while he makes his choice.

Then, if he loses, he will find his swan-song

In the music. To make it even more so

And proper like a swan-song, my eyes will cry the tears to make a stream

Which will be the watery death bed of the swan. But he might win.

What music should we play in that case? That music

Should be like the fanfare that loyal subjects bow

To when a king is newly crowned. Just like

The sweet music that plays at daybreak

That a drowsy bridegroom hears

When he wakes on his wedding day. Bassanio is walking toward the trunks

with no less dignity but with much more love

Than the young Hercules when he freed

The virgin princess sacrificed at Troy

From the sea monster. I’ll be like the princess

And everyone else can be like wives at Troy

Crying as we look on and watch to see

The result of the challenge. Go, Hercules!

If you live, I live. I feel much, much more distress

Watching the struggle than you feel in making it.

Music, whilst BASSANIO comments on the caskets to himself

SONG.

Tell me where is fancy bred,

Or in the heart, or in the head?

How begot, how nourished?

Reply, reply.

It is engender'd in the eyes,

With gazing fed; and fancy dies

In the cradle where it lies.

Let us all ring fancy's knell

I'll begin it,--Ding, dong, bell.

Tell me where is love born,

In the heart or in the head?

How is it started and how is it fed?

Answer. Answer.

It starts in the eyes,

And is fed with gazes, and love dies

When it is still just an infant.

Let us all ring bells to mourn love’s passing

I’ll start—Ding, dong, bell.

ALL

Ding, dong, bell.

Ding, dong, bell.

BASSANIO

So may the outward shows be least themselves:

The world is still deceived with ornament.

In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,

But, being seasoned with a gracious voice,

Obscures the show of evil? In religion,

What damned error, but some sober brow

Will bless it and approve it with a text,

Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?

There is no vice so simple but assumes

Some mark of virtue on his outward parts:

How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false

As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins

The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars;