Original
Modern English
I would thou grew’st unto the shores o’ the haven, And question’dst every sail: if he should write And not have it, ’twere a paper lost, As offer’d mercy is. What was the last That he spake to thee?
I wish you were growing at the edge of the harbor, And asking every ship: if he wrote And didn’t get it, it would be like losing a letter, Just like mercy that’s been offered but refused. What was the last thing he said to you?
It was his queen, his queen!
It was his queen, his queen!
Then waved his handkerchief?
Then he waved his handkerchief?
And kiss’d it, madam.
And kissed it, madam.
Senseless Linen! happier therein than I! And that was all?
Stupid cloth! happier than I am in that moment! And that was all?
No, madam; for so long As he could make me with this eye or ear Distinguish him from others, he did keep The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief, Still waving, as the fits and stirs of ’s mind Could best express how slow his soul sail’d on, How swift his ship.
No, madam; because as long As he could make me recognize him by his eye or ear He stayed on deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief, Always waving, as his thoughts and feelings Best showed how slowly his soul was moving, How quickly his ship was going.
Thou shouldst have made him As little as a crow, or less, ere left To after-eye him.
You should have made him As small as a crow, or even smaller, before you let him Be seen by me again.
Madam, so I did.
Madam, I did just that.
I would have broke mine eye-strings; crack’d them, but To look upon him, till the diminution Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle, Nay, follow’d him, till he had melted from The smallness of a gnat to air, and then Have turn’d mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio, When shall we hear from him?
I would have strained my eyes till they broke, I would’ve Stared at him, until the space between us Made him seem as sharp as my needle, And followed him until he faded from The size of a gnat to just air, and then I would have turned my eyes away and cried. But, good Pisanio, When will we hear from him?
Be assured, madam, With his next vantage.
Don’t worry, madam, You’ll hear from him soon, at the next opportunity.
I did not take my leave of him, but had Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him How I would think on him at certain hours Such thoughts and such, or I could make him swear The shes of Italy should not betray Mine interest and his honour, or have charged him, At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight, To encounter me with orisons, for then I am in heaven for him; or ere I could Give him that parting kiss which I had set Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father And like the tyrannous breathing of the north Shakes all our buds from growing.
I didn’t say goodbye to him properly, but I had So many sweet things to tell him: before I could explain How I would think of him at certain times And such thoughts as that, or make him promise That the women of Italy wouldn’t betray My love and his honor, or have told him, At six in the morning, at noon, at midnight, To meet me in prayer, because that’s when I am closest to heaven for him; or before I could Give him that final kiss, which I had planned Between two lovely words, my father comes in And like the harsh wind of the north Blows all our hopes away.
The queen, madam, Desires your highness’ company.
The queen, madam, Requests your highness’ company.
Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch’d. I will attend the queen.
The things I asked you to do, get them done. I will go see the queen.
Madam, I shall.
Madam, I will.