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Modern English
Do they still fly to the Roman?
Are they still running to the Romans?
I do not know what witchcraft’s in him, but Your soldiers use him as the grace ’fore meat, Their talk at table, and their thanks at end; And you are darken’d in this action, sir, Even by your own.
I don’t know what kind of magic he has, but Your soldiers treat him like a blessing before a meal, Their conversation at the table, and their thanks afterwards; And you’re being led astray in this action, sir, Even by your own doing.
I cannot help it now, Unless, by using means, I lame the foot Of our design. He bears himself more proudlier, Even to my person, than I thought he would When first I did embrace him: yet his nature In that’s no changeling; and I must excuse What cannot be amended.
I can’t change it now, Unless, by using tricks, I mess up the plan Of what we’re trying to do. He carries himself more proudly, Even toward me, than I expected when I first Welcomed him: yet his nature Hasn’t changed in that way; and I must excuse What can’t be fixed.
Yet I wish, sir,-- I mean for your particular,--you had not Join’d in commission with him; but either Had borne the action of yourself, or else To him had left it solely.
Still, I wish, sir,-- I mean for your sake,--you hadn’t Joined forces with him; but either You should have taken the lead yourself, or else Left it entirely to him.
I understand thee well; and be thou sure, when he shall come to his account, he knows not What I can urge against him. Although it seems, And so he thinks, and is no less apparent To the vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly. And shows good husbandry for the Volscian state, Fights dragon-like, and does achieve as soon As draw his sword; yet he hath left undone That which shall break his neck or hazard mine, Whene’er we come to our account.
I understand you well; and be sure, when he faces the consequences, he won’t know What I can hold against him. Although it seems, And he thinks so, and it’s clear to the common people That he handles everything well. And manages the Volscian state carefully, Fights like a hero, and accomplishes his goals As soon as he draws his sword; yet he has left undone What will either ruin him or endanger me, Whenever we face the final reckoning.
Sir, I beseech you, think you he’ll carry Rome?
Sir, please, do you think he’ll take Rome?
All places yield to him ere he sits down; And the nobility of Rome are his: The senators and patricians love him too: The tribunes are no soldiers; and their people Will be as rash in the repeal, as hasty To expel him thence. I think he’ll be to Rome As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it By sovereignty of nature. First he was A noble servant to them; but he could not Carry his honours even: whether ’twas pride, Which out of daily fortune ever taints The happy man; whether defect of judgment, To fail in the disposing of those chances Which he was lord of; or whether nature, Not to be other than one thing, not moving From the casque to the cushion, but commanding peace Even with the same austerity and garb As he controll’d the war; but one of these-- As he hath spices of them all, not all, For I dare so far free him--made him fear’d, So hated, and so banish’d: but he has a merit, To choke it in the utterance. So our virtues Lie in the interpretation of the time: And power, unto itself most commendable, Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair To extol what it hath done. One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail; Rights by rights falter, strengths by strengths do fail. Come, let’s away. When, Caius, Rome is thine, Thou art poor’st of all; then shortly art thou mine.
All places give way to him before he even sits down; And the noble people of Rome are his: The senators and patricians love him too: The tribunes aren’t soldiers; and their people Will be just as quick to welcome him back, as hasty To push him out again. I think he’ll be to Rome Like the osprey is to the fish, taking it By natural power. First, he was A loyal servant to them; but he couldn’t Maintain his honours consistently: whether it was pride, Which always taints a fortunate man; Whether it was a lack of judgment, To fail at managing those opportunities Which he controlled; or whether it was his nature, Not to be anything other than one thing, not changing From the battlefield to the throne, but ruling with the same strictness And demeanor as he did in war; but one of these— Since he has a bit of all of them, but not all, I can excuse him to that extent—made him feared, So hated, and so exiled: but he does have a virtue, To hide it in his speech. So our virtues Depend on how the times interpret them: And power, in itself the most praiseworthy, Doesn’t have a more obvious grave than a seat To praise what it’s accomplished. One fire drives out another; one nail, another nail; Rights by rights falter, strengths by strengths fail. Come, let’s go. When, Caius, Rome is yours, You’ll be the poorest of all; and then soon you’ll be mine.