The Merchant of Venice, Act 2, Scene 6

This is the penthouse under which Lorenzo Desired us to make stand.

This is the overhanging roof under which Lorenzo asked us to wait.

His hour is almost past.

The time he set is nearly gone.

And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, For lovers ever run before the clock.

And it's a wonder that he stays out past his own hour, since lovers always arrive ahead of the clock.

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' doves fly ten times faster to seal love's newly made bonds than they usually do to keep a promise already given from being broken!

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 younger 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 appetite he sat down with? Where is the horse that retraces his tiring paces with the same undiminished fire he first went through them with? Everything that exists is chased with more spirit than it is enjoyed. How like a younger son or a spendthrift the ship with its banners puts out from her home harbour, hugged and embraced by the whore-like wind! And how like the spendthrift she comes back, her sides battered by the weather and her sails in rags, thin, torn, and made a beggar by that whore-like wind!

Here comes Lorenzo, more of this hereafter.

Here comes Lorenzo — more of 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?

Dear friends, forgive me for staying away so long. It wasn't I but my business that kept you waiting. When you decide to play the thief to steal a wife, I'll keep watch just as long for you. Come closer. Here's where my father-in-law 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, so I can be surer, though I'd swear I 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 for certain, and my love indeed, for whom do I love so much? And now who but you, Lorenzo, knows whether I am yours?

Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art.

Heaven and your own thoughts are witnesses that you are.

Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains. I am glad ’tis night, you do not look on me, For I am much asham’d 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, catch this box; it's worth the trouble. I'm glad it's night, so you can't look at me, because I'm very ashamed of the clothes I've changed into. But love is blind, and lovers can't see the charming foolish things they do themselves; for if they could, Cupid himself would blush to see me turned into a boy like this.

Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer.

Come down, because you have to be my torch-bearer.

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 obscur’d.

What! Must I hold a light up to my own disgrace? Honestly, my shames are far too visible already. Why, love, that's a job that reveals things, and I ought to be kept 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, sweetheart — even in that lovely boy's outfit. But come right now, for the secret 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 moe ducats, and be with you straight.

I'll lock the doors, and gild myself with some more ducats, and be with you at once.

Now, by my hood, a gentle, and no Jew.

Now, by my hood, she's a gentile, and no 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 prov’d herself. And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true, Shall she be placed in my constant soul.

Curse me if I don't love her with all my heart, for she is wise, if I'm any judge of her, and she is beautiful, if my eyes tell the truth, and she is faithful, as she has proved herself to be. And therefore, being what she is — wise, beautiful, and faithful — she'll be set in my steady soul.

What, art thou come? On, gentlemen, away! Our masquing mates by this time for us stay.

What, are you here? Let's go, gentlemen, away! Our fellow masquers 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 tonight, the wind is come about; Bassanio presently will go aboard. I have sent twenty out to seek for you.

Shame, shame, Gratiano! Where are all the others? It's nine o'clock, and all our friends are waiting for you. There'll be no masque tonight — the wind has changed; Bassanio is going on board right away. I've sent twenty men out to look for you.

I am glad on’t. I desire no more delight Than to be under sail and gone tonight.

I'm glad of it. I want no greater pleasure than to be under sail and away tonight.