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Modern English
Neither my husband nor the slave return’d, That in such haste I sent to seek his master! Sure, Luciana, it is two o’clock.
Neither my husband nor the servant has come back, That I sent to find him so urgently! Surely, Luciana, it’s already two o’clock.
Perhaps some merchant hath invited him, And from the mart he’s somewhere gone to dinner. Good sister, let us dine and never fret: A man is master of his liberty: Time is their master, and, when they see time, They’ll go or come: if so, be patient, sister.
Maybe a merchant invited him, And he went to have dinner somewhere after the market. Don’t worry, sister, let’s have dinner and not stress: A man is in charge of his own freedom: Time controls them, and when they notice the time, They’ll come or go: if that’s the case, be patient, sister.
Why should their liberty than ours be more?
Why should their freedom be more than ours?
Because their business still lies out o’ door.
Because their work is always outside.
Look, when I serve him so, he takes it ill.
Look, when I do that for him, he gets upset.
O, know he is the bridle of your will.
Oh, you should know, he’s the rein on your desires.
There’s none but asses will be bridled so.
Only donkeys will be controlled like that.
Why, headstrong liberty is lash’d with woe. There’s nothing situate under heaven’s eye But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky: The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls, Are their males’ subjects and at their controls: Men, more divine, the masters of all these, Lords of the wide world and wild watery seas, Indued with intellectual sense and souls, Of more preeminence than fish and fowls, Are masters to their females, and their lords: Then let your will attend on their accords.
Well, stubborn freedom gets punished with pain. There’s nothing under the sky, On land, in sea, or in the air, That doesn’t have its limits: The animals, the fish, and the flying birds, Are controlled by their mates, and follow their lead: Men, more divine, the rulers of all these, Lords of the world and the wild seas, Gifted with reason, intellect, and souls, More important than fish and birds, Are the rulers of their wives, and their lords: So let your will follow their agreements.
This servitude makes you to keep unwed.
This kind of servitude is why you stay unmarried.
Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed.
Not because of that, but because of the problems in marriage.
But, were you wedded, you would bear some sway.
But, if you were married, you would have some control.
Ere I learn love, I’ll practise to obey.
Before I learn to love, I’ll practice obeying.
How if your husband start some other where?
What if your husband is somewhere else?
Till he come home again, I would forbear.
Until he comes back, I would hold off.
Patience unmoved! no marvel though she pause; They can be meek that have no other cause. A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, We bid be quiet when we hear it cry; But were we burdened with like weight of pain, As much or more would we ourselves complain: So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee, With urging helpless patience wouldst relieve me, But, if thou live to see like right bereft, This fool-begg’d patience in thee will be left.
Patience without complaint! No surprise she’s calm; Those who have no real problem can stay peaceful. A miserable soul, hurt by hardship, We tell to be quiet when it cries out; But if we carried the same weight of pain, We would complain as much, or even more: So you, who have no cruel partner to upset you, Would try to comfort me with helpless patience, But if you ever lose something dear to you, You’ll be left with this foolish patience too.
Well, I will marry one day, but to try. Here comes your man; now is your husband nigh.
Well, I will marry someday, just to see how it is. Here comes your man; your husband is near.
Say, is your tardy master now at hand?
Tell me, is your slow master almost here?
Nay, he’s at two hands with me, and that my two ears can witness.
No, he’s fighting with me, and my two ears can testify to that.
Say, didst thou speak with him? know’st thou his mind?
Tell me, did you talk to him? Do you know what he wants?
Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear: Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it.
Yes, yes, he spoke his mind right in my ear: Curse his hand, I could barely understand it.
Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst not feel his meaning?
Did he speak so unclearly that you couldn’t grasp his meaning?
Nay, he struck so plainly, I could too well feel his blows; and withal so doubtfully that I could scarce understand them.
No, he hit me so clearly, I could feel his punches; but he did it so confusedly, I could barely make sense of them.
But say, I prithee, is he coming home? It seems he hath great care to please his wife.
But please, tell me, is he coming home? It seems he really cares about making his wife happy.
Why, mistress, sure my master is horn-mad.
Mistress, I’m sure my master is mad as a hornet.
Horn-mad, thou villain!
Mad as a hornet, you fool!
I mean not cuckold-mad; But, sure, he is stark mad. When I desired him to come home to dinner, He ask’d me for a thousand marks in gold: ’’Tis dinner-time,’ quoth I; ’My gold!’ quoth he; ’Your meat doth burn,’ quoth I; ’My gold!’ quoth he: ’Will you come home?’ quoth I; ’My gold!’ quoth he. ’Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, villain?’ ’The pig,’ quoth I, ’is burn’d;’ ’My gold!’ quoth he: ’My mistress, sir’ quoth I; ’Hang up thy mistress! I know not thy mistress; out on thy mistress!’
I don’t mean cuckold-mad; But he’s definitely completely mad. When I asked him to come home for dinner, He asked me for a thousand gold coins: “It’s dinner-time,” I said; “My gold!” he said; “Your food is burning,” I said; “My gold!” he said: "Will you come home?" I asked; "My gold!" he said. "Where is the thousand marks I gave you, you thief?" "The pig," I said, "is burned;" "My gold!" he said: "My mistress, sir," I said; "Forget your mistress! I don’t know your mistress; curse your mistress!"
Quoth who?
Who said that?
Quoth my master: ’I know,’ quoth he, ’no house, no wife, no mistress.’ So that my errand, due unto my tongue, I thank him, I bare home upon my shoulders; For, in conclusion, he did beat me there.
My master said it: "I don’t know," he said, "any house, any wife, any mistress." So, in the end, I took my message home on my shoulders, For, in conclusion, he beat me there.
Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home.
Go back, you slave, and bring him home.
Go back again, and be new beaten home? For God’s sake, send some other messenger.
Go back and get beaten again? For God’s sake, send someone else.
Back, slave, or I will break thy pate across.
Go back, slave, or I’ll crack your skull open.
And he will bless that cross with other beating: Between you I shall have a holy head.
And he’ll bless that crack with another beating: Between you two, I’ll have a holy head.
Hence, prating peasant! fetch thy master home.
Get out of here, you chatterbox! Bring your master home.
Am I so round with you as you with me, That like a football you do spurn me thus? You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither: If I last in this service, you must case me in leather.
Am I as round with you as you are with me, That like a football you kick me around? You kick me away, and he’ll kick me back: If I last in this job, you’ll have to put me in leather.
Fie, how impatience loureth in your face!
Shame, how impatience shows on your face!
His company must do his minions grace, Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. Hath homely age the alluring beauty took From my poor cheek? then he hath wasted it: Are my discourses dull? barren my wit? If voluble and sharp discourse be marr’d, Unkindness blunts it more than marble hard: Do their gay vestments his affections bait? That’s not my fault: he’s master of my state: What ruins are in me that can be found, By him not ruin’d? then is he the ground Of my defeatures. My decayed fair A sunny look of his would soon repair But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale And feeds from home; poor I am but his stale.
His company must flatter his favorites, While I starve at home, waiting for a happy look. Has old age stolen the beauty from my face? Then he has ruined it: Are my talks boring? Is my wit dull? If quick and sharp conversation is spoiled, Unkindness dulls it more than hard marble: Do his fancy clothes attract his affections? That’s not my fault: he controls my life: What faults in me can be found, That he hasn’t ruined? Then he’s the cause Of my flaws. My faded beauty Could be fixed by a sunny look from him But, like a wild deer, he breaks the fence And feeds outside; poor me, I’m just his leftover.
Self-harming jealousy! fie, beat it hence!
Self-destructive jealousy! Shame, get rid of it!
Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense. I know his eye doth homage otherwhere, Or else what lets it but he would be here? Sister, you know he promised me a chain; Would that alone, alone he would detain, So he would keep fair quarter with his bed! I see the jewel best enamelled Will lose his beauty; yet the gold bides still, That others touch, and often touching will Wear gold: and no man that hath a name, By falsehood and corruption doth it shame. Since that my beauty cannot please his eye, I’ll weep what’s left away, and weeping die.
Unfeeling fools can tolerate such wrongs. I know his eyes pay attention to someone else, Or else why wouldn’t he be here? Sister, you know he promised me a chain; I wish that alone, he would just stay with me, So he would stay on good terms with his wife! I see that the jewel that is most beautifully decorated Will lose its beauty; but the gold stays the same, That others touch, and touching it often Will wear the gold down: and no man who has a reputation, By lying and corruption brings it to shame. Since my beauty can’t please his eye, I’ll cry away what’s left of it, and die while crying.
How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!
How many foolish fools serve crazy jealousy!