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This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo Desired us to make stand.
This is the porch where Lorenzo Asked us to wait.
His hour is almost past.
His time is almost up.
And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, For lovers ever run before the clock.
And it’s strange he’s still not here, since lovers are always ahead of time.
O, ten times faster Venus’ pigeons fly To seal love’s bonds new-made, than they are wont To keep obliged faith unforfeited!
Oh, Venus’ pigeons fly ten times faster To seal new love’s promises than they do To keep their loyal promises unbroken!
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 chased than enjoy’d. How like a younker or a prodigal The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, Hugg’d and embraced by the strumpet wind! How like the prodigal doth she return, With over-weather’d ribs and ragged sails, Lean, rent and beggar’d by the strumpet wind!
That’s always true: who gets up from a feast With the same sharp hunger they had when they sat down? Where is the horse that doesn’t go back over The same tiring steps with the same energy He had when he first took them? Everything that is, Is chased more eagerly than it is enjoyed. How like a young man or a spendthrift The ship with the bright sails leaves its home port, Hugged and carried by the eager wind! How like the spendthrift it returns, With its worn-out ribs and torn sails, Thin, broken, and ruined by the eager wind!
Here comes Lorenzo: more of this hereafter.
Here comes Lorenzo: we’ll talk more about this later.
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?
Sweet friends, thank you for waiting for me so long; It wasn’t me, but my business, that made you wait: When you’re ready to steal wives, I’ll wait just as long for you. Come closer; This is where my father, the Jew, lives. Hey! Who’s inside?
Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty, Albeit I’ll swear that I do know your tongue.
Who are you? Tell me for sure, Though I’d swear I already know your voice.
Lorenzo, and thy love.
Lorenzo, and your love.
Lorenzo, certain, and my love indeed, For who love I so much? And now who knows But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours?
Lorenzo, certainly, and my true love, For who else could I possibly love this much? And now who knows But you, Lorenzo, whether I belong to you?
Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art.
Heaven and your thoughts are proof that you do.
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 transformed to a boy.
Here, take this box; it’s worth the trouble. I’m glad it’s night, so you can’t see me, Because I’m so ashamed of what I’ve done: But love is blind and lovers can’t see The silly things they do themselves; If they could, even Cupid would be embarrassed To see me turned into a boy like this.
Descend, for you must be my torchbearer.
Come down, for you must be my torchbearer.
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.
What, do I have to hold a candle to my own shame? Honestly, they’re already too obvious. Why, it’s a job of revealing, love; And I should stay hidden.
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 stay’d for at Bassanio’s feast.
You are hidden, sweet, Even dressed up as a boy. But come on quickly; The night is running away from us, And we’re expected at Bassanio’s feast.
I will make fast the doors, and gild myself With some more ducats, and be with you straight.
I’ll lock the doors, grab some more ducats, and join you soon.
Now, by my hood, a Gentile and no Jew.
Now, by my hood, she’s a Gentile, not a Jew.
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 placed in my constant soul.
I swear I love her deeply; She’s wise, if I can judge her rightly, And beautiful, if my eyes don’t deceive me, And she is true, as she has proven herself, So, just like her, wise, beautiful, and true, She’ll be in my heart forever.
What, art thou come? On, gentlemen; away! Our masquing mates by this time for us stay.
What, you’ve arrived? Come on, gentlemen, let’s go! Our friends are waiting for us by now.
Who’s there?
Who’s there?
Signior Antonio!
Signior Antonio!
Fie, fie, Gratiano! where are all the rest? ’Tis nine o’clock: our friends all stay for you. No masque to-night: the wind is come about; Bassanio presently will go aboard: I have sent twenty out to seek for you.
Fie, fie, Gratiano! where are the others? It’s nine o’clock: our friends are waiting for you. No masque tonight: the wind has turned; Bassanio is about to set sail: I’ve sent twenty men to look for you.
I am glad on’t: I desire no more delight Than to be under sail and gone to-night.
I’m glad to hear it: I don’t want anything more Than to be on a ship and leave tonight.