Bianca. Canst tell me what love is?
Guido. It is consent,
The union of two minds, two souls, two hearts,
In all they think and hope and feel.
Bianca. Such lovers might as well be dumb, for those
Who think and hope and feel alike can never
Have anything for one another’s ear.
Guido. Love is? Love is the meeting of two worlds
In never-ending change and counter-change.
Bianca. Thus will my husband praise the mercer’s mart,
Where the two worlds of East and West exchange.
Guido. Come. Love is love, a kiss, a close embrace.
It is . . .
Bianca. My husband calls that love
When he hath slammed his weekly ledger to.
Guido. I find my wit no better match for thine
Than thou art match for an old crabbed man;
But I am sure my youth and strength and blood
Keep better tune with beauty gay and bright
As thine is, than lean age and miser toil.
Bianca. Well said, well said, I think he would not dare
To face thee, more than owls dare face the sun;
He’s the bent shadow such a form as thine
Might cast upon a dung heap by the road,
Though should it fall upon a proper floor
Twould be at once a better man than he.
Guido. Your merchant living in the dread of loss
Becomes perforce a coward, eats his heart.
Dull souls they are, who, like caged prisoners watch
And envy others’ joy; they taste no food
But what its cost is present to their thought.