Original
Modern English
The moon shines bright: in such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees And they did make no noise, in such a night Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls And sigh’d his soul toward the Grecian tents, Where Cressid lay that night.
The moon is shining brightly: on a night like this, When the soft wind gently touched the trees And they didn’t make any noise, on a night like this Troilus, I think, climbed the walls of Troy And sighed towards the Greek camp, Where Cressida lay that night.
In such a night Did Thisbe fearfully o’ertrip the dew And saw the lion’s shadow ere himself And ran dismay’d away.
On a night like this Thisbe fearfully crossed the dew-covered ground And saw the lion’s shadow before she saw the lion And ran away in fright.
In such a night Stood Dido with a willow in her hand Upon the wild sea banks and waft her love To come again to Carthage.
On a night like this Dido stood with a willow in her hand On the wild shores, sending a signal to her love To return to Carthage.
In such a night Medea gather’d the enchanted herbs That did renew old AEson.
On a night like this Medea picked the magical herbs That restored old AEson to youth.
In such a night Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew And with an unthrift love did run from Venice As far as Belmont.
On a night like this Jessica stole away from her rich father, And with a reckless love, she ran from Venice All the way to Belmont.
In such a night Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well, Stealing her soul with many vows of faith And ne’er a true one.
On a night like this Young Lorenzo swore he loved her deeply, Stealing her heart with many vows of loyalty And none of them true.
In such a night Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, Slander her love, and he forgave it her.
On a night like this Pretty Jessica, like a little scold, Bad-mouthed her love, and he forgave her for it.
I would out-night you, did no body come; But, hark, I hear the footing of a man.
I could outdo you in romantic gestures, if no one else were around; But listen, I hear the footsteps of someone coming.
Who comes so fast in silence of the night?
Who’s coming so quickly in the silence of the night?
A friend.
A friend.
A friend! what friend? your name, I pray you, friend?
A friend! What friend? What’s your name, I ask you, friend?
Stephano is my name; and I bring word My mistress will before the break of day Be here at Belmont; she doth stray about By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays For happy wedlock hours.
Stephano is my name; and I bring word That my mistress will be here at Belmont before dawn; She’s wandering around the holy crosses, where she kneels and prays For happy married life.
Who comes with her?
Who’s coming with her?
None but a holy hermit and her maid. I pray you, is my master yet return’d?
No one but a holy hermit and her maid. I ask you, has my master returned yet?
He is not, nor we have not heard from him. But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, And ceremoniously let us prepare Some welcome for the mistress of the house.
He hasn’t, and we haven’t heard anything from him. But let’s go inside, please, Jessica, And let’s prepare a proper welcome For the lady of the house.
Sola, sola! wo ha, ho! sola, sola!
Sola, sola! Wo ha, ho! Sola, sola!
Who calls?
Who’s calling?
Sola! did you see Master Lorenzo? Master Lorenzo, sola, sola!
Sola! Did you see Master Lorenzo? Master Lorenzo, sola, sola!
Leave hollaing, man: here.
Stop shouting, man: I’m here.
Sola! where? where?
Sola! Where? Where?
Here.
Here.
Tell him there’s a post come from my master, with his horn full of good news: my master will be here ere morning.
Tell him there’s a messenger from my master, with good news: my master will be here before morning.
Sweet soul, let’s in, and there expect their coming. And yet no matter: why should we go in? My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, Within the house, your mistress is at hand; And bring your music forth into the air.
Sweet soul, let’s go inside and wait for them. And yet it doesn’t matter: why should we go in? My friend Stephano, please tell them, Inside the house, that your mistress is arriving; And bring the music outside.
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There’s not the smallest orb which thou behold’st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins; Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
How beautiful the moonlight rests on this bank! Here we’ll sit and let the sounds of music Drift into our ears: soft silence and the night Turn into the notes of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is covered with plates of bright gold: There’s not a single tiny star you see But moves like an angel singing, Still chanting to the young cherubs; Such harmony exists in immortal souls; But while this earthly body of decay Is wrapped around us, we cannot hear it.
Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn! With sweetest touches pierce your mistress’ ear, And draw her home with music.
Come on! Let’s wake Diana with a song! Let your sweetest music reach your lady’s ear, And bring her home with the sound.
I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
I’m never happy when I hear nice music.
The reason is, your spirits are attentive: For do but note a wild and wanton herd, Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, Which is the hot condition of their blood; If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, Or any air of music touch their ears, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, Their savage eyes turn’d to a modest gaze By the sweet power of music: therefore the poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods; Since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage, But music for the time doth change his nature. The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night And his affections dark as Erebus: Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music.
The reason is that you’re too focused: If you watch a wild and reckless group of animals, Or a bunch of young colts, untrained and running free, Jumping all around, loudly bellowing and neighing, Which is how their blood is hot; If they hear even a trumpet or any piece of music, You’ll see them stop and look around, Their wild eyes turning calm, By the gentle power of music. That’s why the poet Imagined that Orpheus made trees, stones, and rivers follow him; Because nothing so stubborn, tough, or angry, But music can change its nature for a time. A person with no music in their soul, Who isn’t moved by the harmony of sounds, Is made for betrayal, trickery, and violence; Their heart is as dull as night And as dark as the underworld: Don’t trust such a person. Listen to the music.
That light we see is burning in my hall. How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
That light we see is shining in my hall. Look how far that small candle spreads its light! A good deed shines just like that in a wicked world.
When the moon shone, we did not see the candle.
We didn’t see the candle when the moon was out.
So doth the greater glory dim the less: A substitute shines brightly as a king Unto the king be by, and then his state Empties itself, as doth an inland brook Into the main of waters. Music! hark!
The greater light dims the lesser: A stand-in can shine brightly like a king, But when the real king is present, his greatness Makes the substitute fade, just like a stream Merges into a bigger river. Listen!
It is your music, madam, of the house.
It’s your music, madam, from the house.
Nothing is good, I see, without respect: Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day.
I see that nothing is truly good without context: I think it sounds much sweeter at night.
Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.
Silence makes it even more beautiful, madam.
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.
A crow sings as sweetly as a lark, When no one is listening, and I think The nightingale, if she sang during the day, While all the geese are honking, would be thought No better than a little wren. So many things become perfect with time! Quiet! The moon sleeps with Endymion And won’t be woken.
That is the voice, Or I am much deceived, of Portia.
That’s the voice, Or I’m greatly mistaken, of Portia.
He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo, By the bad voice.
He knows me like a blind man knows the cuckoo, By the bad sound of its voice.
Dear lady, welcome home.
Dear lady, welcome home.
We have been praying for our husbands’ healths, Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. Are they return’d?
We’ve been praying for our husbands’ health, Which we hope will improve because of our prayers. Are they back yet?
Madam, they are not yet; But there is come a messenger before, To signify their coming.
Madam, they’re not back yet; But a messenger has arrived ahead, To let us know they’re coming.
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 my servants not to make a fuss About us being gone; And you, Lorenzo; Jessica, not you either.
Your husband is at hand; I hear his trumpet: We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not.
Your husband is almost here; I hear his trumpet: We won’t tell anyone, madam; don’t worry.
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.
Tonight, it feels like the daylight is sick; It looks a little paler: it’s a day, Like the day when the sun is hidden.
We should hold day with the Antipodes, If you would walk in absence of the sun.
We’d still have day if we were on the opposite side of the world, If you walked around in the absence of the sun.
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.
Let me bring light, but not be taken lightly; Because a lighthearted wife makes for a heavy husband, And may Bassanio never be that way for me: But God handle everything! You’re welcome home, my lord.
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 the man, this is Antonio, To whom I am so deeply indebted.
You should in all sense be much bound to him. For, as I hear, he was much bound for you.
You should indeed be very much indebted to him. For, as I’ve heard, he was deeply indebted to you.
No more than I am well acquitted of.
No more than I’ve fully repaid him.
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 to our home: It should be shown in more than just words, So I’ll keep this brief, though I wish I could do more.
[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, I swear you’re wronging me; In truth, I gave it to the judge’s clerk: I wish the man who has it were castrated, as far as I’m concerned, Since you, my love, care so much about it.
A quarrel, ho, already! what’s the matter?
A fight already! What’s going on?
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 ring, a silly little ring That she gave me, with an inscription That looked just like the kind of thing you’d see Engraved on a knife: ‘Love me, and don’t leave me.’
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.
What are you talking about, the flower or its value? You swore to me, when I gave it to you, That you would wear it until the day you die And that it should be with you in your grave: Though not for my sake, still for your strong oaths, You should have respected it and kept it. Gave it to a judge’s clerk! no, God is my witness, The clerk will never wear a beard on his face after having it.
He will, an if he live to be a man.
He will, if he lives to become a man.
Ay, if a woman live to be a man.
Yes, if a woman lives to become a man.
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.
Now, by this hand, I gave it to a young man, A kind of boy, a little scruffy boy, No taller than you; the judge’s clerk, A chatty boy, who begged it as a fee: I couldn’t bring myself to deny it to him.
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.
You were wrong, I must be honest with you, To part so easily with your wife’s first gift: A thing fastened on with oaths to your finger And so bound to your flesh with faith. I gave my love a ring and made him swear Never to part with it; and here he stands; I dare swear he would never leave it Nor take it off his finger, for all the wealth That the world could offer. Now, honestly, Gratiano, You’re giving your wife too strong a reason to be upset: If it were me, I’d be mad about it.
[Aside] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off And swear I lost the ring defending it.
[Aside] Well, I might as well cut off my left hand And swear I lost the ring while protecting it.
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.
My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away To the judge who asked for it and, in fact, Deserved it; and then the boy, his clerk, Who worked hard writing, begged mine; And neither the man nor the master would take anything But the two rings.
What ring gave you my lord? Not that, I hope, which you received of me.
What ring did you give, my lord? Not the one, I hope, that you received from me.
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 add a lie to a mistake, I would deny it; but you see my finger Doesn’t have the ring on it; it’s gone.
Even so void is your false heart of truth. By heaven, I will ne’er come in your bed Until I see the ring.
Just like that, your false heart is void of truth. By heaven, I will never come to your bed Until I see the ring.
Nor I in yours Till I again see mine.
Nor will I in yours Until I see mine again.
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, You would abate the strength of your displeasure.
Sweet Portia, If you knew to whom I gave the ring, If you knew for whom I gave the ring And understood why I gave the ring And how unwillingly I gave it up, When nothing would be accepted but the ring, You would lessen the strength of your anger.
If you had known the virtue of the ring, Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, Or your own honour to contain the ring, You would not then have parted with the ring. What man is there so much unreasonable, If you had pleased to have defended it With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty To urge the thing held as a ceremony? Nerissa teaches me what to believe: I’ll die for’t but some woman had the ring.
If you had known the worth of the ring, Or even half the worth of the woman who gave it, Or your own honor in keeping the ring, You would never have given it up. What man is so unreasonable, If you had been willing to defend it With any words of passion, lacking the modesty To treat it as a sacred thing? Nerissa shows me what to believe: I’ll swear on it, but some woman had the ring.
No, by my honour, madam, by my soul, No woman had it, but a civil doctor, Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me And begg’d the ring; the which I did deny him And suffer’d him to go displeased away; Even he that did uphold the very life Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady? I was enforced to send it after him; I was beset with shame and courtesy; My honour would not let ingratitude So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady; For, by these blessed candles of the night, Had you been there, I think you would have begg’d The ring of me to give the worthy doctor.
No, by my honor, madam, by my soul, No woman had it, but a respectable doctor, Who refused three thousand ducats from me And begged the ring; which I denied him And allowed him to leave upset; Even he who saved my dear friend’s life. What should I say, sweet lady? I had no choice but to send it after him; I was caught between shame and politeness; My honor wouldn’t let me leave it with ingratitude So much as stain it. Pardon me, good lady; For, by these blessed stars of the night, Had you been there, I think you would have begged The ring from me to give to the worthy doctor.
Let not that doctor e’er come near my house: Since he hath got the jewel that I loved, And that which you did swear to keep for me, I will become as liberal as you; I’ll not deny him any thing I have, No, not my body nor my husband’s bed: Know him I shall, I am well sure of it: Lie not a night from home; watch me like Argus: If you do not, if I be left alone, Now, by mine honour, which is yet mine own, I’ll have that doctor for my bedfellow.
Let that doctor never come near my house: Since he has the jewel that I loved, And the one you swore to keep for me, I’ll be as generous as you; I’ll give him anything I have, No, not my body nor my husband’s bed: I will know him, I’m sure of it: Don’t spend a night away from home; watch me like Argus: If you don’t, if I’m left alone, Now, by my honor, which is still mine, I’ll have that doctor for my bedfellow.
And I his clerk; therefore be well advised How you do leave me to mine own protection.
And I’ll be his clerk; so think carefully About how you leave me to protect myself.
Well, do you so; let not me take him, then; For if I do, I’ll mar the young clerk’s pen.
Fine, go ahead; don’t let me take him, then; Because if I do, I’ll ruin the young man’s writing.
I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels.
I’m the unlucky one caught in these arguments.
Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome notwithstanding.
Sir, don’t be upset; you’re still welcome, no matter what.
Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong; And, in the hearing of these many friends, I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, Wherein I see myself--
Portia, forgive me for this forced mistake; And in front of all these friends, I swear to you, even by your beautiful eyes, In which I see myself--
Mark you but that! In both my eyes he doubly sees himself; In each eye, one: swear by your double self, And there’s an oath of credit.
Just pay attention to this! In both my eyes, he sees himself twice; In each eye, once: swear by your double self, And that’s an oath worth believing.
Nay, but hear me: Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear I never more will break an oath with thee.
No, but listen to me: Forgive this mistake, and I swear by my soul I’ll never break an oath with you again.
I once did lend my body for his wealth; Which, but for him that had your husband’s ring, Had quite miscarried: I dare be bound again, My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord Will never more break faith advisedly.
I once gave my body for his wealth; Which, except for him who had your husband’s ring, Would have completely failed: I’m willing to promise again, With my soul at stake, that your husband Will never break his word on purpose again.
Then you shall be his surety. Give him this And bid him keep it better than the other.
Then you’ll be his guarantor. Give him this, And tell him to take better care of it than the other one.
Here, Lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring.
Here, Lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring.
By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor!
By heaven, this is the same one I gave the doctor!
I had it of him: pardon me, Bassanio; For, by this ring, the doctor lay with me.
I got it from him: forgive me, Bassanio; Because, with this ring, the doctor slept with me.
And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano; For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor’s clerk, In lieu of this last night did lie with me.
And forgive me, my dear Gratiano; Because that same scruffy boy, the doctor’s clerk, Instead of me, last night slept with you.
Why, this is like the mending of highways In summer, where the ways are fair enough: What, are we cuckolds ere we have deserved it?
Well, this is just like fixing roads In the summer, when the roads are already fine: What, are we made fools of before we’ve even earned it?
Speak not so grossly. You are all amazed: Here is a letter; read it at your leisure; It comes from Padua, from Bellario: There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, Nerissa there her clerk: Lorenzo here Shall witness I set forth as soon as you And even but now return’d; I have not yet Enter’d my house. Antonio, you are welcome; And I have better news in store for you Than you expect: unseal this letter soon; There you shall find three of your argosies Are richly come to harbour suddenly: You shall not know by what strange accident I chanced on this letter.
Don’t speak so crudely. You’re all shocked: Here’s a letter; read it when you have time; It’s from Padua, from Bellario: There you’ll see that Portia was the doctor, Nerissa was her clerk: Lorenzo here Can confirm I left as soon as you did, And only just returned; I haven’t even Entered my house yet. Antonio, you’re welcome; And I have better news for you Than you expect: open this letter soon; You’ll find three of your ships Have suddenly come safely to port: You won’t believe how I got this letter.
I am dumb.
I’m speechless.
Were you the doctor and I knew you not?
Were you the doctor, and I didn’t know it?
Were you the clerk that is to make me cuckold?
Were you the clerk who is going to make me a fool?
Ay, but the clerk that never means to do it, Unless he live until he be a man.
Yes, but I’m the clerk who never intends to do it, Unless I live until I’m a grown man.
Sweet doctor, you shall be my bed-fellow: When I am absent, then lie with my wife.
Sweet doctor, you will be my bedfellow: When I’m not around, then sleep with my wife.
Sweet lady, you have given me life and living; For here I read for certain that my ships Are safely come to road.
Sweet lady, you’ve given me life and support; For here I can see for sure that my ships Have safely arrived in port.
How now, Lorenzo! My clerk hath some good comforts too for you.
What’s the matter, Lorenzo? My clerk has some good news for you too.
Ay, and I’ll give them him without a fee. There do I give to you and Jessica, From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, After his death, of all he dies possess’d of.
Yes, and I’ll give it to him for free. Here, I give to you and Jessica, From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, After his death, of everything he owns.
Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Of starved people.
Fair ladies, you’re like manna dropped in the path Of starving people.
It is almost morning, And yet I am sure you are not satisfied Of these events at full. Let us go in; And charge us there upon inter’gatories, And we will answer all things faithfully.
It’s almost morning, And yet I’m sure you’re not fully satisfied With all that’s happened. Let’s go inside; And let us be questioned there, And we will answer everything truthfully.
Let it be so: the first inter’gatory That my Nerissa shall be sworn on is, Whether till the next night she had rather stay, Or go to bed now, being two hours to day: But were the day come, I should wish it dark, That I were couching with the doctor’s clerk. Well, while I live I’ll fear no other thing So sore as keeping safe Nerissa’s ring.
Let it be so: the first question That my Nerissa will be sworn to answer is, Whether, until the next night, she’d rather stay, Or go to bed now, with two hours left in the day: But if the day comes, I’d wish it were dark, So I could be lying down with the doctor’s clerk. Well, as long as I live, I’ll fear nothing more Than keeping Nerissa’s ring safe.