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Modern English
We lost a jewel of her; and our esteem Was made much poorer by it: but your son, As mad in folly, lack’d the sense to know Her estimation home.
We lost a jewel of hers; and our respect Was much poorer because of it: but your son, As foolish as can be, didn’t have the sense to understand How highly she was regarded.
’Tis past, my liege; And I beseech your majesty to make it Natural rebellion, done i’ the blaze of youth; When oil and fire, too strong for reason’s force, O’erbears it and burns on.
It’s over, my king; And I ask your majesty to treat it As a natural mistake, done in the heat of youth; When passion and impulse, too strong for reason’s control, Overcome it and keep going.
My honour’d lady, I have forgiven and forgotten all; Though my revenges were high bent upon him, And watch’d the time to shoot.
My respected lady, I have forgiven and forgotten everything; Though my desire for revenge was strong against him, And I waited for the right moment to act.
This I must say, But first I beg my pardon, the young lord Did to his majesty, his mother and his lady Offence of mighty note; but to himself The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife Whose beauty did astonish the survey Of richest eyes, whose words all ears took captive, Whose dear perfection hearts that scorn’d to serve Humbly call’d mistress.
I must say this, But first let me apologize. The young lord Offended his majesty, his mother, and his lady In a very serious way; but to himself He did the greatest harm of all. He lost a wife Whose beauty amazed the finest eyes, Whose words captivated everyone, Whose perfection made hearts that once refused to serve Humbly call her mistress.
Praising what is lost Makes the remembrance dear. Well, call him hither; We are reconciled, and the first view shall kill All repetition: let him not ask our pardon; The nature of his great offence is dead, And deeper than oblivion we do bury The incensing relics of it: let him approach, A stranger, no offender; and inform him So ’tis our will he should.
Praising what’s lost Makes the memory more precious. Well, call him here; We are reconciled, and this first meeting will end All further talk about it: let him not ask for our forgiveness; The nature of his great offense is gone, And deeper than forgetfulness, we bury The anger it caused: let him approach, A stranger, no longer an offender; and tell him That it is our wish he should.
I shall, my liege.
I will, my king.
What says he to your daughter? have you spoke?
What does he say about your daughter? Have you spoken to him?
All that he is hath reference to your highness.
Everything about him is connected to your highness.
Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me That set him high in fame.
Then we will have a match. I’ve received letters That praise him highly.
He looks well on’t.
He looks good.
I am not a day of season, For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail In me at once: but to the brightest beams Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth; The time is fair again.
I am not in a stable mood, For you might see sunshine and hail In me at the same time: but even the brightest sun Is sometimes blocked by clouds; so step forward; The moment is good again.
My high-repented blames, Dear sovereign, pardon to me.
My deeply regretted mistakes, Dear king, forgive me.
All is whole; Not one word more of the consumed time. Let’s take the instant by the forward top; For we are old, and on our quick’st decrees The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time Steals ere we can effect them. You remember The daughter of this lord?
All is forgiven; Not a word more about the lost time. Let’s take the moment by the front; For we are old, and with our quickest decisions Time’s silent, sneaky footsteps Steal them before we can act. You remember The daughter of this lord?
Admiringly, my liege, at first I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue Where the impression of mine eye infixing, Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me, Which warp’d the line of every other favour; Scorn’d a fair colour, or express’d it stolen; Extended or contracted all proportions To a most hideous object: thence it came That she whom all men praised and whom myself, Since I have lost, have loved, was in mine eye The dust that did offend it.
I admired her, my lord, at first I chose her, before my heart Dared speak too loudly Where the image of my eye fixed, Contempt, in his mocking view, gave me, Which twisted the meaning of every other favor; Disliked a beautiful look, or made it seem stolen; Stretched or shrank all appearances Into something awful: that’s why She, whom everyone praised and whom I, Since losing her, have loved, was, in my sight, The dust that bothered it.
Well excused: That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away From the great compt: but love that comes too late, Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, To the great sender turns a sour offence, Crying, ’That’s good that’s gone.’ Our rash faults Make trivial price of serious things we have, Not knowing them until we know their grave: Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust, Destroy our friends and after weep their dust Our own love waking cries to see what’s done, While shame full late sleeps out the afternoon. Be this sweet Helen’s knell, and now forget her. Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin: The main consents are had; and here we’ll stay To see our widower’s second marriage-day.
That’s a good excuse: That you loved her counts for some forgiveness, But love that comes too late, Like a guilty pardon slowly delivered, Becomes a harsh offense to the giver, Saying, "What’s gone is gone." Our hasty mistakes Often make us overlook the value of what we have, Not realizing it until we lose it: Often, our wrongs, unfair to ourselves, Hurt our friends, and later we mourn their loss Our love wakes up too late to see what’s been done, While shame sleeps through the afternoon. Let this be Helen’s funeral, and forget her now. Send your love token to fair Maudlin: The main decisions have been made; and we’ll stay To witness our widower’s second wedding.
Which better than the first, O dear heaven, bless! Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cesse!
I pray, dear heaven, bless this one more than the first! Or, before they meet, let nature end in me!
Come on, my son, in whom my house’s name Must be digested, give a favour from you To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter, That she may quickly come.
Come, my son, in whom my family name Must be carried forward, give a token to my daughter To lift her spirits, So she can come quickly.
By my old beard, And every hair that’s on’t, Helen, that’s dead, Was a sweet creature: such a ring as this, The last that e’er I took her at court, I saw upon her finger.
By my old beard, And every hair on it, Helen, who is dead, Was a sweet person: this ring, The last one I gave her at court, I saw it on her finger.
Hers it was not.
It wasn’t hers.
Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine eye, While I was speaking, oft was fasten’d to’t. This ring was mine; and, when I gave it Helen, I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood Necessitied to help, that by this token I would relieve her. Had you that craft, to reave her Of what should stead her most?
Please, let me see it; for my eye, While I was speaking, kept focusing on it. This ring was mine; and when I gave it to Helen, I told her, if she ever needed help, She could use this token To call on me. Did you take it from her, When it was most important to her?
My gracious sovereign, Howe’er it pleases you to take it so, The ring was never hers.
My gracious king, However you choose to see it, The ring was never hers.
Son, on my life, I have seen her wear it; and she reckon’d it At her life’s rate.
Son, I swear, I saw her wear it; and she valued it Above everything else in her life.
I am sure I saw her wear it.
I’m sure I saw her wear it.
You are deceived, my lord; she never saw it: In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, Wrapp’d in a paper, which contain’d the name Of her that threw it: noble she was, and thought I stood engaged: but when I had subscribed To mine own fortune and inform’d her fully I could not answer in that course of honour As she had made the overture, she ceased In heavy satisfaction and would never Receive the ring again.
You’re mistaken, my lord; she never saw it: It was thrown to me in Florence from a window, Wrapped in paper, which had the name Of the woman who threw it: she was noble, and thought I was committed: but when I explained My situation and told her I couldn’t act In the honorable way she expected, she stopped And, in disappointment, would never Take the ring back.
Plutus himself, That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine, Hath not in nature’s mystery more science Than I have in this ring: ’twas mine, ’twas Helen’s, Whoever gave it you. Then, if you know That you are well acquainted with yourself, Confess ’twas hers, and by what rough enforcement You got it from her: she call’d the saints to surety That she would never put it from her finger, Unless she gave it to yourself in bed, Where you have never come, or sent it us Upon her great disaster.
Even Plutus, Who knows how to multiply wealth, Doesn’t understand this mystery better than I do: This ring was mine, it was Helen’s, Whoever gave it to you. Now, if you know That you understand yourself well, Admit it was hers, and tell us how you took it From her: she swore to the saints She’d never take it off her finger, Unless she gave it to you in bed, Where you’ve never been, or sent it to us After her great misfortune.
She never saw it.
She never saw it.
Thou speak’st it falsely, as I love mine honour; And makest conjectural fears to come into me Which I would fain shut out. If it should prove That thou art so inhuman,--’twill not prove so;-- And yet I know not: thou didst hate her deadly, And she is dead; which nothing, but to close Her eyes myself, could win me to believe, More than to see this ring. Take him away.
You’re lying, as I love my honor; And you’re making me worry, Which I wish to avoid. If it turns out You’re so cruel,--it won’t turn out like that;-- But I don’t know: you hated her deeply, And now she’s dead; and nothing, except closing Her eyes myself, could make me believe it, More than seeing this ring. Take him away.
My fore-past proofs, howe’er the matter fall, Shall tax my fears of little vanity, Having vainly fear’d too little. Away with him! We’ll sift this matter further.
My previous proofs, whatever happens, Will prove my fears were not enough vanity, Having foolishly feared too little. Get rid of him! We’ll investigate this further.
If you shall prove This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence, Where yet she never was.
If you can prove This ring was ever hers, you can just as easily Prove that I shared her bed in Florence, Where she never even was.
I am wrapp’d in dismal thinkings.
I am lost in dark thoughts.
Gracious sovereign, Whether I have been to blame or no, I know not: Here’s a petition from a Florentine, Who hath for four or five removes come short To tender it herself. I undertook it, Vanquish’d thereto by the fair grace and speech Of the poor suppliant, who by this I know Is here attending: her business looks in her With an importing visage; and she told me, In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern Your highness with herself.
Gracious king, Whether I’m to blame or not, I don’t know: Here’s a petition from a Florentine, Who has tried for four or five times to bring it Herself. I took it on, Moved by the kindness and speech Of the poor woman, who I now know Is here waiting: her business looks urgent, And she told me, In a brief and sweet way, that it concerns Your highness and her.
[Reads] Upon his many protestations to marry me when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won me. Now is the Count Rousillon a widower: his vows are forfeited to me, and my honour’s paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow him to his country for justice: grant it me, O king! in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poor maid is undone. DIANA CAPILET.
[Reads] On his many promises to marry me After his wife’s death, I’m embarrassed to admit, he won Me over. Now the Count Rousillon is a widower: his vows Are broken to me, and my honor is now his. He Stole away from Florence, leaving without saying goodbye, and I’m going After him to his country for justice: grant it to me, O King! It’s best that you handle it; otherwise, a seducer Flourishes, and a poor girl is ruined. DIANA CAPILET.
I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll for this: I’ll none of him.
I’ll get myself a son-in-law at the fair, and pay the toll for This: I’ll have none of him.
The heavens have thought well on thee Lafeu, To bring forth this discovery. Seek these suitors: Go speedily and bring again the count. I am afeard the life of Helen, lady, Was foully snatch’d.
The heavens have favored you, Lafeu, By bringing forth this discovery. Go find these suitors: Go quickly and bring back the count. I’m afraid the life of Helen, lady, Was taken foully.
Now, justice on the doers!
Now, let justice be done on those who caused this!
I wonder, sir, sith wives are monsters to you, And that you fly them as you swear them lordship, Yet you desire to marry.
I wonder, sir, since wives are monsters to you, And you avoid them as you swear them loyalty, Yet you still want to marry.
What woman’s that?
What woman is that?
I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine, Derived from the ancient Capilet: My suit, as I do understand, you know, And therefore know how far I may be pitied.
I am, my lord, a miserable Florentine, Descended from the ancient Capilet: My case, as I understand, you know, And so you know how much pity I may deserve.
I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour Both suffer under this complaint we bring, And both shall cease, without your remedy.
I am her mother, sir, whose age and honor Both suffer because of this complaint we bring, And both will end without your help.
Come hither, count; do you know these women?
Come here, Count; do you know these women?
My lord, I neither can nor will deny But that I know them: do they charge me further?
My lord, I can’t deny it, nor will I; But I know them. Do they accuse me of something else?
Why do you look so strange upon your wife?
Why are you looking at your wife like that?
She’s none of mine, my lord.
She’s not my wife, my lord.
If you shall marry, You give away this hand, and that is mine; You give away heaven’s vows, and those are mine; You give away myself, which is known mine; For I by vow am so embodied yours, That she which marries you must marry me, Either both or none.
If you’re going to marry, You’re giving away this hand, and that belongs to me; You’re giving away heaven’s promises, and those belong to me; You’re giving away myself, which is clearly mine; Because by vow, I am so completely yours, That whoever marries you must marry me too, Either both of us, or neither.
Your reputation comes too short for my daughter; you are no husband for her.
Your reputation isn’t good enough for my daughter; you are not a suitable husband for her.
My lord, this is a fond and desperate creature, Whom sometime I have laugh’d with: let your highness Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour Than for to think that I would sink it here.
My lord, this woman is foolish and desperate, Someone I’ve laughed with before: let your highness Think of my honor as something nobler Than to think I would ruin it here.
Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to friend Till your deeds gain them: fairer prove your honour Than in my thought it lies.
Sir, my thoughts are against you for now, Until your actions prove them wrong: show more honor Than what I currently think of you.
Good my lord, Ask him upon his oath, if he does think He had not my virginity.
Please, my lord, Ask him under oath if he truly believes That he didn’t take my virginity.
What say’st thou to her?
What do you say to that?
She’s impudent, my lord, And was a common gamester to the camp.
She’s rude, my lord, And was just a common camp follower.
He does me wrong, my lord; if I were so, He might have bought me at a common price: Do not believe him. O, behold this ring, Whose high respect and rich validity Did lack a parallel; yet for all that He gave it to a commoner o’ the camp, If I be one.
He’s wronging me, my lord; if I were like that, He could have bought me like any other woman: Don’t believe him. Oh, look at this ring, Whose value and importance Are unmatched; yet despite that, He gave it to a commoner from the camp, If I am one.
He blushes, and ’tis it: Of six preceding ancestors, that gem, Conferr’d by testament to the sequent issue, Hath it been owed and worn. This is his wife; That ring’s a thousand proofs.
He’s blushing, and that’s the proof: This ring has been passed down through six generations, Given by will to the next heir, And has been worn by them. This is his wife; That ring proves it a thousand times over.
Methought you said You saw one here in court could witness it.
I thought you said You saw someone in court who could testify to this.
I did, my lord, but loath am to produce So bad an instrument: his name’s Parolles.
I did, my lord, but I’m reluctant to bring him forward, He’s a bad man: his name’s Parolles.
I saw the man to-day, if man he be.
I saw the man today, if you can call him a man.
Find him, and bring him hither.
Find him, and bring him here.
What of him? He’s quoted for a most perfidious slave, With all the spots o’ the world tax’d and debosh’d; Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth. Am I or that or this for what he’ll utter, That will speak any thing?
What about him? He’s known as a traitorous servant, With every bad quality you can think of, Whose nature gets sick just from telling the truth. Am I one of those things, or is it something he’ll say That will make him speak anything?
She hath that ring of yours.
She has your ring.
I think she has: certain it is I liked her, And boarded her i’ the wanton way of youth: She knew her distance and did angle for me, Madding my eagerness with her restraint, As all impediments in fancy’s course Are motives of more fancy; and, in fine, Her infinite cunning, with her modern grace, Subdued me to her rate: she got the ring; And I had that which any inferior might At market-price have bought.
I think she does: it’s certain I liked her, And slept with her in the carefree way of youth: She kept her distance and played hard to get, Frustrating my desire with her resistance, As all obstacles in love’s path Only make you want them more; and in the end, Her endless cleverness, with her modern charm, Brought me to her level: she got the ring; And I got something any lesser person Could have bought at a cheap price.
I must be patient: You, that have turn’d off a first so noble wife, May justly diet me. I pray you yet; Since you lack virtue, I will lose a husband; Send for your ring, I will return it home, And give me mine again.
I have to be patient: You, who’ve discarded a first wife so noble, Can rightly make me suffer. I beg you; Since you lack virtue, I’ll give up a husband; Send for your ring, I’ll send it back, And give me mine again.
I have it not.
I don’t have it.
What ring was yours, I pray you?
What ring was yours, if you don’t mind me asking?
Sir, much like The same upon your finger.
Sir, something very similar To the one on your finger.
Know you this ring? this ring was his of late.
Do you recognize this ring? This ring was his recently.
And this was it I gave him, being abed.
Yes, this is the one I gave him, when we were in bed.
The story then goes false, you threw it him Out of a casement.
Then the story is false, you threw it to him Out of a window.
I have spoke the truth.
I’ve told the truth.
My lord, I do confess the ring was hers.
My lord, I admit the ring was hers.
You boggle shrewdly, every feather stars you. Is this the man you speak of?
You’re hesitating badly, you’re covered in guilt. Is this the man you were talking about?
Ay, my lord.
Yes, my lord.
Tell me, sirrah, but tell me true, I charge you, Not fearing the displeasure of your master, Which on your just proceeding I’ll keep off, By him and by this woman here what know you?
Tell me, boy, but tell me the truth, I order you, Don’t be afraid of your master’s anger, I’ll protect you from that, based on how honestly you speak, What do you know about this woman, and about him?
So please your majesty, my master hath been an honourable gentleman: tricks he hath had in him, which gentlemen have.
If it pleases your majesty, my master has been an honorable man: he had some tricks, but tricks that gentlemen have.
Come, come, to the purpose: did he love this woman?
Come on, get to the point: did he love this woman?
Faith, sir, he did love her; but how?
Honestly, sir, he did love her; but how?
How, I pray you?
How, I ask you?
He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a woman.
He loved her, sir, like a gentleman loves a woman.
How is that?
How is that?
He loved her, sir, and loved her not.
He loved her, sir, and didn’t love her.
As thou art a knave, and no knave. What an equivocal companion is this!
You’re a trickster, but not a trickster. What a confusing person you are!
I am a poor man, and at your majesty’s command.
I’m a poor man, and I’m at your majesty’s service.
He’s a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator.
He’s a good speaker, my lord, but a terrible talker.
Do you know he promised me marriage?
Do you know that he promised me marriage?
Faith, I know more than I’ll speak.
Honestly, I know more than I’m going to say.
But wilt thou not speak all thou knowest?
But will you not say everything you know?
Yes, so please your majesty. I did go between them, as I said; but more than that, he loved her: for indeed he was mad for her, and talked of Satan and of Limbo and of Furies and I know not what: yet I was in that credit with them at that time that I knew of their going to bed, and of other motions, as promising her marriage, and things which would derive me ill will to speak of; therefore I will not speak what I know.
Yes, if it pleases your majesty. I did act as an intermediary between them, like I said; but more than that, he loved her: in fact, he was crazy about her, and talked about demons, and Hell, and horrible things like that: still, I was in such a position with them back then that I knew when they went to bed, and about other things, like his promise to marry her, and other things I can’t mention because they would make people think badly of me. So, I’ll keep silent about what I know.
Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou canst say they are married: but thou art too fine in thy evidence; therefore stand aside. This ring, you say, was yours?
You’ve already said everything, unless you can say that they are married: but you’re being too clever in your explanation; so step aside. This ring, you say, was yours?
Ay, my good lord.
Yes, my lord.
Where did you buy it? or who gave it you?
Where did you buy it? Or who gave it to you?
It was not given me, nor I did not buy it.
It wasn’t given to me, and I didn’t buy it.
Who lent it you?
Who lent it to you?
It was not lent me neither.
It wasn’t lent to me either.
Where did you find it, then?
Then where did you find it?
I found it not.
I didn’t find it.
If it were yours by none of all these ways, How could you give it him?
If it wasn’t yours by any of these means, How could you give it to him?
I never gave it him.
I never gave it to him.
This woman’s an easy glove, my lord; she goes off and on at pleasure.
This woman is like a loose glove, my lord; she takes it off and puts it on as she pleases.
This ring was mine; I gave it his first wife.
This ring was mine; I gave it to his first wife.
It might be yours or hers, for aught I know.
It could be yours or hers, for all I know.
Take her away; I do not like her now; To prison with her: and away with him. Unless thou tell’st me where thou hadst this ring, Thou diest within this hour.
Take her away; I don’t trust her now; Put her in prison: and take him away too. Unless you tell me where you got this ring, You’ll die within the hour.
I’ll never tell you.
I’ll never tell you.
Take her away.
Take her away.
I’ll put in bail, my liege.
I’ll pay the bail, my lord.
I think thee now some common customer.
I think you’re just some ordinary person.
By Jove, if ever I knew man, ’twas you.
By God, if I ever knew a man, it was you.
Wherefore hast thou accused him all this while?
Then why have you been accusing him all this time?
Because he’s guilty, and he is not guilty: He knows I am no maid, and he’ll swear to’t; I’ll swear I am a maid, and he knows not. Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life; I am either maid, or else this old man’s wife.
Because he’s guilty, and he’s not guilty: He knows I’m not a virgin, and he’ll swear to it; I’ll swear I am a virgin, and he doesn’t know that. Great king, I’m not a prostitute, I swear; I’m either a virgin, or this old man’s wife.
She does abuse our ears: to prison with her.
She’s insulting us: take her to prison.
Good mother, fetch my bail. Stay, royal sir:
Good mother, bring my bail. Wait, royal sir:
The jeweller that owes the ring is sent for, And he shall surety me. But for this lord, Who hath abused me, as he knows himself, Though yet he never harm’d me, here I quit him: He knows himself my bed he hath defiled; And at that time he got his wife with child: Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick: So there’s my riddle: one that’s dead is quick: And now behold the meaning.
The jeweler who owns the ring has been called, And he’ll vouch for me. But as for this lord, Who’s wronged me, as he knows, though he’s never harmed me, I release him now: He knows that he has defiled my bed; And at that time he made his wife pregnant: Though she’s dead, she feels the baby kick: So here’s my puzzle: someone who’s dead is alive: And now see the meaning.
Is there no exorcist Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes? Is’t real that I see?
Is there no magician Who can make me see clearly? Is this real what I’m seeing?
No, my good lord; ’Tis but the shadow of a wife you see, The name and not the thing.
No, my good lord; It’s just the shadow of a wife you see, The name and not the real thing.
Both, both. O, pardon!
Both, both. Oh, forgive me!
O my good lord, when I was like this maid, I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring; And, look you, here’s your letter; this it says: ’When from my finger you can get this ring And are by me with child,’ & c. This is done: Will you be mine, now you are doubly won?
Oh my good lord, when I was like this maiden, You were so kind to me. Here is your ring; And look, here’s your letter; this is what it says: "When you can take this ring from my finger And make me pregnant," and so on. It’s done: Will you be mine now, since you’ve won me twice?
If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly, I’ll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly.
If she, my lord, can make this clear to me, I’ll love her dearly, always, forever dearly.
If it appear not plain and prove untrue, Deadly divorce step between me and you! O my dear mother, do I see you living?
If it’s not clear and proves to be a lie, Let a deadly divorce come between me and you! Oh my dear mother, is it really you alive?
Mine eyes smell onions; I shall weep anon:
My eyes feel like they’ve been around onions; I’m going to cry soon:
Good Tom Drum, lend me a handkercher: so, I thank thee: wait on me home, I’ll make sport with thee: Let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones.
Good Tom Drum, give me a handkerchief: there, Thanks: come with me home, I’ll have some fun with you: Forget about your politeness, it’s worthless.
Let us from point to point this story know, To make the even truth in pleasure flow.
Let’s get the full story, step by step, So that the truth can flow smoothly with pleasure.
If thou be’st yet a fresh uncropped flower, Choose thou thy husband, and I’ll pay thy dower; For I can guess that by thy honest aid Thou keep’st a wife herself, thyself a maid. Of that and all the progress, more or less, Resolvedly more leisure shall express: All yet seems well; and if it end so meet, The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.
If you’re still a young, untouched flower, Pick your husband, and I’ll provide your dowry; Because I can tell that with your honest help, You keep yourself a virgin while being a wife. About that, and everything else, more or less, We’ll take more time to explain it later: Everything seems fine for now; and if it ends that way, The sweet feels even better after the bitter past.
The king’s a beggar, now the play is done: All is well ended, if this suit be won, That you express content; which we will pay, With strife to please you, day exceeding day: Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts; Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts.
The king is a beggar now that the play is over: Everything’s well if this request is granted, That you show us you’re happy; we’ll repay you, With effort to please you, day after day: Our patience is yours, and your applause is ours; Give us your kind hands, and we’ll give you our hearts.