The Merchant of Venice, Act 5, Scene 1

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 Trojan walls, And sigh’d his soul toward the Grecian tents Where Cressid lay that night.

The moon shines bright. On a night like this, when the sweet wind kissed the trees gently and they made no sound — on such a night, I think, Troilus climbed the walls of Troy and sighed his soul out toward the Greek tents where Cressid 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 such a night Thisbe went trembling across the dew with quick, light steps, and saw the lion's shadow before she saw the lion itself, and ran away terrified.

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 such a night Dido stood with a willow branch in her hand on the wild sea-shore, and waved for her lover to come back to Carthage.

In such a night Medea gathered the enchanted herbs That did renew old Æson.

On such a night Medea gathered the magic herbs that made old Æson young again.

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 such a night Jessica stole from the rich Jew, and ran off from Venice with a spendthrift lover as far as 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 such a night young Lorenzo swore he loved her dearly, stealing her soul away with many vows of faithfulness, and not one of them true.

In such a night Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, Slander her love, and he forgave it her.

On such a night pretty Jessica, like a little scold, slandered her lover, 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'd out-"night" you if nobody were coming; but listen, I hear a man's footsteps.

Who comes so fast in silence of the night?

Who comes along so fast in the silence of the night?

A friend.

A friend.

A friend! What friend? Your name, I pray you, friend?

A friend! What friend? Your name, please, 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.

My name is Stephano, and I bring word that my mistress will be here at Belmont before daybreak. She is wandering about among the wayside crosses, where she kneels and prays for a happy married life.

Who comes with her?

Who is with her?

None but a holy hermit and her maid. I pray you is my master yet return’d?

Nobody but a holy hermit and her maid. Tell me, please, has my master come back 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 has not, and we have not heard from him either. But let's go inside, please, Jessica, and get some formal welcome ready 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! Have you seen Master Lorenzo? Master Lorenzo! Sola, sola!

Leave holloaing, man. Here!

Stop shouting, man. 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 a messenger has come from my master with his horn full of 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 in and wait for them there. And yet it doesn't matter; why should we go in? Stephano, my friend, please announce inside the house that your mistress is close by, and bring your musicians out here into the open air.

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 patens 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 sweetly the moonlight sleeps on this bank! Here we'll sit and let the sounds of music creep into our ears; gentle quiet and the night suit the strains of sweet harmony. Sit down, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven is thickly set with discs of bright gold. There isn't the smallest sphere you can see that doesn't sing like an angel as it moves, always singing in choir with the bright-eyed cherubim. There is such harmony in immortal souls, but while this muddy garment of decaying flesh shuts it in so heavily, 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! Wake Diana with a hymn. Pierce your mistress's ear with your sweetest playing, and draw her home with music.

I am never merry when I hear sweet music.

I am never cheerful when I hear sweet 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 naught 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 mov’d 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 your spirits are concentrating. Just consider a wild, unruly herd or drove of young, untrained colts, making mad leaps, bellowing and neighing loudly, which is the hot state of their blood: if they happen to hear a trumpet sound, or any strain of music touches their ears, you'll see them all stop together, their wild eyes turned to a quiet gaze by the sweet power of music. That's why the poet made up the story that Orpheus drew trees, stones and rivers after him, since there is nothing so unfeeling, hard and full of fury that music does not change its nature for the moment. The man who has no music in himself, and is not moved by the harmony of sweet sounds, is fit for treason, plots and pillage. The workings of his mind are as dull as night, and his feelings are as dark as Erebus. Let no such man be trusted. 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 can see is burning in my hall. How far that little candle throws its beams! That's how a good deed shines in a wicked world.

When the moon shone we did not see the candle.

While the moon was shining we didn't see the candle.

So doth the greater glory dim the less. A substitute shines brightly as a king Until a king be by, and then his state Empties itself, as doth an inland brook Into the main of waters. Music! hark!

That's how the greater glory dims the lesser. A deputy shines as brightly as a king until a king is present, and then his grandeur drains away, like an inland stream running into the open sea. Music! Listen!

It is your music, madam, of the house.

It's your own musicians, madam, from the house.

Nothing is good, I see, without respect. Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day.

Nothing is good, I see, except in its setting. It seems to me it sounds much sweeter than it does by day.

Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.

The silence gives it that quality, 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! How the moon sleeps with Endymion, And would not be awak’d!

The crow sings as sweetly as the lark when nobody is listening to either; and I think the nightingale, if she sang in the daytime when every goose is cackling, would be reckoned no better a musician than the wren. How many things are given their proper praise and true perfection by coming at the right season! Quiet! See how the moon sleeps with Endymion and refuses to be woken!

That is the voice, Or I am much deceiv’d, of Portia.

That is Portia's voice, or I'm much mistaken.

He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo, By the bad voice.

He knows me the way a blind man knows the cuckoo — by the ugly voice.

Dear lady, welcome home.

Dear lady, welcome home.

We have been praying for our husbands’ welfare, Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. Are they return’d?

We have been praying for our husbands' well-being, which we hope goes the better for our words. Have they come back?

Madam, they are not yet; But there is come a messenger before To signify their coming.

Madam, not yet; but a messenger has come ahead of them to announce that they are on the way.

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 to take no notice at all of our having been away — and you too, Lorenzo; and you as well, Jessica.

Your husband is at hand, I hear his trumpet. We are no tell-tales, madam, fear you not.

Your husband is close by — I hear his trumpet. We're no tattle-tales, 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.

This night seems to me like daylight that is ill; 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 have daylight at the same time as the people on the other side of the world, if you would walk about while the sun is away.

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 give light, but let me not be loose, for a loose wife makes a heavy-hearted husband, and may Bassanio never be that because of me. But God arrange everything! You are 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. Welcome my friend here. This is the man, this is Antonio, to whom I am so endlessly indebted.

You should in all sense be much bound to him, For, as I hear, he was much bound for you.

You ought in every sense to be greatly indebted to him, for, as I hear, he was bound in a bond for you.

No more than I am well acquitted of.

No more than I have been fully released from.

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 house. It will have to show itself in other ways than words, so I'll cut short this courtesy of mere breath.

[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 that moon up there, I swear you're doing me an injustice. Honestly, I gave it to the judge's clerk. As far as I'm concerned, I wish the man who got it were castrated, since you take it so much to heart, my love.

A quarrel, ho, already! What’s the matter?

A quarrel already! What's the matter?

About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring That she did give me, whose posy was For all the world like cutlers’ poetry Upon a knife, “Love me, and leave me not.”

It's about a hoop of gold, a worthless ring that she gave me, with a motto on it exactly like the verses cutlers put 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.

Why do you go on about the motto or the value? You swore to me when I gave it to you that you would wear it until the hour of your death, and that it would lie with you in your grave. Even if not for my sake, then for the sake of your passionate oaths you should have been careful of it and kept it. Gave it to a judge's clerk! No — God is my judge, the clerk who got it will never grow hair on his face.

He will, and 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 youngster, a sort of boy, a stunted little boy, no taller than you, the judge's clerk, a chattering boy who begged for it as his payment. For the life of me I couldn't refuse 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 at fault — I have to be blunt with you — to give away so casually your wife's first gift, a thing fastened onto your finger with vows and riveted to your flesh with sworn faith. I gave my love a ring and made him swear never to part with it, and here he stands. I'd swear on his behalf that he wouldn't give it up or pull it from his finger for all the wealth the world possesses. Honestly, Gratiano, you give your wife too cruel a reason for grief. If it were me, I'd be furious about it.

[Aside.] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, And swear I lost the ring defending it.

[Aside.] Well, I'd better cut my left hand off and swear I lost the ring defending it.

My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away Unto the judge that begg’d it, and indeed Deserv’d 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 begged for it, and who deserved it too, in fact. And then the boy, his clerk, who took some trouble over the writing, begged for mine, and neither the servant nor the master would take anything except the two rings.

What ring gave you, my lord? Not that, I hope, which you receiv’d of me.

What ring did you give away, my lord? Not the one, I hope, that you had 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 wrong, I would deny it; but you can see my finger has no 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.

And your false heart is just as empty of truth. By heaven, I will never come into your bed until I see the ring.

Nor I in yours Till I again see mine!

And I will never come into 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 if you could understand why I gave the ring, and how unwillingly I let the ring go, when nothing would be accepted but the ring, you would soften the force 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 pleas’d 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 power of the ring, or half the worth of the woman who gave the ring, or your own honour in keeping the ring, you would not then have given up the ring. What man is there so unreasonable, if you had chosen to defend it with any words of devotion, that he would have lacked the decency not to press for a thing held as sacred? Nerissa tells me what I should believe: I would stake my life on it — some woman has 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 displeas’d away, Even he that had held up the very life Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady? I was enforc’d 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, on my honour, madam, on my soul, no woman had it, but a lawyer, who refused three thousand ducats from me and begged for the ring, which I refused him, and I let him go away displeased — the very man who had saved the life of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady? I was forced to send it after him. I was hemmed in by shame and courtesy. My honour would not let ingratitude stain it so badly. Forgive me, good lady; for by these blessed candles of the night, if you had been there, I think you would have begged the ring from me to give to the worthy lawyer.

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 anything 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 mine bedfellow.

Don't let that lawyer ever come near my house. Since he has got the jewel that I loved, and which you swore to keep for me, I will become as generous as you: I'll refuse him nothing that I have — no, not my body, nor my husband's bed. I shall get to know him, I'm quite certain of it. Don't spend a single night away from home. Watch me like Argus. If you don't, if I am left alone, then by my honour, which is still my own, I'll have that lawyer for my bedfellow.

And I his clerk. Therefore be well advis’d How you do leave me to mine own protection.

And I'll have his clerk. So think carefully before you leave me to look after myself.

Well, do you so. Let not me take him then, For if I do, I’ll mar the young clerk’s pen.

Well, do that. But don't let me catch him, for if I do, I'll ruin the young clerk's pen.

I am th’ unhappy subject of these quarrels.

I am the unlucky cause of these quarrels.

Sir, grieve not you. You are welcome notwithstanding.

Sir, don't be sorry. You are welcome all the same.

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 this wrong I was forced into, and in the hearing of all these friends I swear to you, by your own 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.

Notice that! In both my eyes he sees himself twice over, one in each eye. Swear by your double, two-faced self — that would be an oath worth trusting.

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 one fault, and by my soul I swear I will 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 lent my body as security for his fortune, and it would have been forfeited altogether if not for the man who has your husband's ring. I dare give my bond again, with my soul as the penalty, that your husband will never deliberately break faith again.

Then you shall be his surety. Give him this, And bid him keep it better than the other.

Then you shall be his guarantor. Give him this, and tell him to keep it better than he kept the other.

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, it's the same one I gave the lawyer!

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, for by this ring, the lawyer 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 gentle Gratiano, for that same scruffy boy, the lawyer's clerk, slept with me last night in exchange for this.

Why, this is like the mending of highways In summer, where the ways are fair enough. What, are we cuckolds ere we have deserv’d it?

Why, this is like repairing the roads in summer, when the roads are good enough already. What, are we betrayed husbands before we've earned it?

Speak not so grossly. You are all amaz’d. 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 talk so crudely. You are all bewildered. Here is a letter; read it when you have time. It comes from Bellario in Padua. There you will find that Portia was the lawyer, and Nerissa there was her clerk. Lorenzo here will testify that I set out as soon as you did, and have only just now returned. I have not even gone into my house yet. Antonio, you are welcome, and I have better news in store for you than you expect: open this letter now. In it you will find that three of your merchant ships have suddenly come into harbour with rich cargoes. You would not believe by what strange chance I came upon this letter.

I am dumb.

I am speechless.

Were you the doctor, and I knew you not?

Were you the lawyer, and I didn't recognise you?

Were you the clerk that is to make me cuckold?

Were you the clerk who is going to make me a betrayed husband?

Ay, but the clerk that never means to do it, Unless he live until he be a man.

Yes, but the clerk who never intends to do it, unless he lives long enough to become a man.

Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow. When I am absent, then lie with my wife.

Sweet lawyer, you shall be my bedfellow. When I'm away, 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 have given me both my life and my means of living; for here I read for certain that my ships have come safely to anchorage.

How now, Lorenzo! My clerk hath some good comforts too for you.

Well now, Lorenzo! My clerk has some good comforts 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 them to him without charging a fee. Here I hand over to you and Jessica, from the rich Jew, a formal deed of gift making over everything he possesses at his death.

Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Of starved people.

Fair ladies, you are dropping manna 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 are not fully satisfied about all these events. Let us go inside, and question us there under oath, 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 Till 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's do that. The first question my Nerissa shall be put under oath about is this: whether she would rather wait until tomorrow night, or go to bed now, when it's two hours till daybreak. But if the day had come, I would wish it dark until I was lying down with the lawyer's clerk. Well, as long as I live, I'll dread nothing else so much as keeping Nerissa's ring safe.