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Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain: he was then of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy as since he hath been allowed the name of; but I could then have looked on him without the help of admiration, though the catalogue of his endowments had been tabled by his side and I to peruse him by items.
Believe me, sir, I’ve seen him in Britain: back then he was Just starting to make a name for himself, expected to be as great As he’s been recognized as now; but back then I could’ve looked at him Without any admiration, even if his list of qualities Had been written out and I could’ve read them one by one.
You speak of him when he was less furnished than now he is with that which makes him both without and within.
You’re talking about him when he had less than he has now, less of what makes him what he is, both on the outside and inside.
I have seen him in France: we had very many there could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he.
I’ve seen him in France: we had many there who could look at the sun with as steady eyes as he.
This matter of marrying his king’s daughter, wherein he must be weighed rather by her value than his own, words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter.
This thing about him marrying the king’s daughter, where he should be judged more by her worth than his own, seems to me, I’m sure, to have caused him a lot of trouble.
And then his banishment.
And then there’s his banishment.
Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable divorce under her colours are wonderfully to extend him; be it but to fortify her judgment, which else an easy battery might lay flat, for taking a beggar without less quality. But how comes it he is to sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance?
Yes, and the approval of those who mourn this sad separation under her banner is really to his advantage; even if it’s just to strengthen her judgment, which otherwise might easily be broken, just like someone taking a beggar with no reputation. But how did he end up staying with you? How did you two become acquainted?
His father and I were soldiers together; to whom I have been often bound for no less than my life. Here comes the Briton: let him be so entertained amongst you as suits, with gentlemen of your knowing, to a stranger of his quality.
His father and I fought together as soldiers; I’ve often owed him my life. Here comes the Briton: treat him as a guest among you, as befits someone of his rank, a stranger to your circle.
I beseech you all, be better known to this gentleman; whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine: how worthy he is I will leave to appear hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing.
I ask you all to get to know this gentleman better; I commend him to you as a noble friend of mine: how worthy he is, I’ll leave for you to judge later, rather than telling you in front of him.
Sir, we have known together in Orleans.
Sir, we knew each other in Orleans.
Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still.
Since then, I’ve owed you for your kindness, which I’ll always be paying, and still keep paying.
Sir, you o’er-rate my poor kindness: I was glad I did atone my countryman and you; it had been pity you should have been put together with so mortal a purpose as then each bore, upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature.
Sir, you overestimate my simple kindness: I was glad I helped bring you and my countryman together; it would have been a shame if you had been stuck together with such a deadly purpose as we had back then, for something so small and trivial.
By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller; rather shunned to go even with what I heard than in my every action to be guided by others’ experiences: but upon my mended judgment--if I offend not to say it is mended--my quarrel was not altogether slight.
With your pardon, sir, I was a young traveler back then; I preferred to avoid matching up with what I heard, rather than being guided by others’ experiences in everything I did: but with my better judgment now—if I’m not wrong to say it’s better— my quarrel wasn’t as insignificant as it seemed.
’Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords, and by such two that would by all likelihood have confounded one the other, or have fallen both.
Well, yes, to be put to the test of swords, and by two men who, most likely, would have killed each other, or both have fallen.
Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference?
Can we, politely, ask what the difference was?
Safely, I think: ’twas a contention in public, which may, without contradiction, suffer the report. It was much like an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our country mistresses; this gentleman at that time vouching--and upon warrant of bloody affirmation--his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant-qualified and less attemptable than any the rarest of our ladies in France.
I think it’s safe to ask: it was a public dispute, which can, without contradiction, be talked about. It was much like an argument that happened last night, when each of us praised our own country mistresses; this gentleman at that time claiming— and swearing with bloody certainty— that his was more beautiful, virtuous, wise, chaste, steadfast, and harder to seduce than any of the finest ladies in France.
That lady is not now living, or this gentleman’s opinion by this worn out.
That lady isn’t alive anymore, or this gentleman’s opinion has faded with time.
She holds her virtue still and I my mind.
She still has her virtue, and I still have my mind.
You must not so far prefer her ’fore ours of Italy.
You shouldn’t put her above our women from Italy.
Being so far provoked as I was in France, I would abate her nothing, though I profess myself her adorer, not her friend.
Even though I was provoked so much in France, I wouldn’t take anything away from her, though I call myself her admirer, not her friend.
As fair and as good--a kind of hand-in-hand comparison--had been something too fair and too good for any lady in Britain. If she went before others I have seen, as that diamond of yours outlustres many I have beheld. I could not but believe she excelled many: but I have not seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady.
She’s as beautiful and as good—a kind of perfect comparison— which might be too perfect for any woman in Britain. If she were ahead of others, I’ve seen, like that diamond of yours outshine many others I’ve seen. I couldn’t help but believe she was better than many: but I haven’t seen the most valuable diamond there is, nor you the lady.
I praised her as I rated her: so do I my stone.
I praised her as I valued her: just like I do my stone.
What do you esteem it at?
How much do you think it’s worth?
More than the world enjoys.
More than the world has to offer.
Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, or she’s outprized by a trifle.
Either your incomparable mistress is dead, or she’s outshined by something trivial.
You are mistaken: the one may be sold, or given, if there were wealth enough for the purchase, or merit for the gift: the other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the gods.
You’re wrong: one could be sold or given, if there were enough money to buy her, or enough merit for the gift; the other isn’t something for sale, it’s only a gift from the gods.
Which the gods have given you?
Which the gods have given you?
Which, by their graces, I will keep.
Which, by their grace, I will keep.
You may wear her in title yours: but, you know, strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your ring may be stolen too: so your brace of unprizable estimations; the one is but frail and the other casual; a cunning thief, or a that way accomplished courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last.
You may wear the title of her as yours: but, you know, strange birds land on nearby ponds. Your ring could be stolen too: so your two priceless things; one is fragile and the other random; a clever thief, or a well-placed courtier, could risk winning both.
Your Italy contains none so accomplished a courtier to convince the honour of my mistress, if, in the holding or loss of that, you term her frail. I do nothing doubt you have store of thieves; notwithstanding, I fear not my ring.
Your Italy has no courtier skilled enough to dishonor my mistress, if, by holding or losing that, you call her weak. I don’t doubt you have many thieves; but still, I’m not afraid for my ring.
Let us leave here, gentlemen.
Let’s leave here, gentlemen.
Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior, I thank him, makes no stranger of me; we are familiar at first.
Sir, with all my heart. This honorable gentleman, I thank him, doesn’t treat me as a stranger; we are at ease with each other right away.
With five times so much conversation, I should get ground of your fair mistress, make her go back, even to the yielding, had I admittance and opportunity to friend.
With five times as much talking, I could win over your beautiful mistress, make her change her mind, even to the point of giving in, if I had the chance and opportunity to be her friend.
No, no.
No, no.
I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to your ring; which, in my opinion, o’ervalues it something: but I make my wager rather against your confidence than her reputation: and, to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any lady in the world.
I dare make a bet using half of my fortune on your ring; which, in my opinion, is worth more than it should be a little: but I’m betting more against your confidence than against her reputation: and, just to protect you from being offended here, I would risk it against any lady in the world.
You are a great deal abused in too bold a persuasion; and I doubt not you sustain what you’re worthy of by your attempt.
You’re being misled by an overly bold belief; and I’m sure you’ll get what you deserve from your attempt.
What’s that?
What’s that?
A repulse: though your attempt, as you call it, deserve more; a punishment too.
A rejection: although your attempt, as you call it, deserves more; a punishment too.
Gentlemen, enough of this: it came in too suddenly; let it die as it was born, and, I pray you, be better acquainted.
Gentlemen, enough of this: it came up too suddenly; let it fade away as quickly as it appeared, and, I beg you, let’s get along better.
Would I had put my estate and my neighbour’s on the approbation of what I have spoke!
I wish I had bet my fortune and my neighbor’s on the truth of what I’ve said!
What lady would you choose to assail?
Which lady would you choose to target?
Yours; whom in constancy you think stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring, that, commend me to the court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring from thence that honour of hers which you imagine so reserved.
Yours; the one you believe is so secure in her loyalty. I’ll bet you ten thousand ducats on your ring, that if you send me to the court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the chance to meet with her again, I’ll bring back from there the honor you think she’s holding so carefully.
I will wage against your gold, gold to it: my ring I hold dear as my finger; ’tis part of it.
I’ll wager my gold against your gold: my ring is as precious to me as my finger; it’s part of me.
You are afraid, and therein the wiser. If you buy ladies’ flesh at a million a dram, you cannot preserve it from tainting: but I see you have some religion in you, that you fear.
You’re afraid, and that makes you wiser. If you buy women’s bodies for a million a gram, you can’t keep them pure: but I see you have some morals, and that’s what you’re afraid of.
This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear a graver purpose, I hope.
This is just a habit in your speech; I hope you have a more serious purpose behind this.
I am the master of my speeches, and would undergo what’s spoken, I swear.
I control my words, and I would stand by what I’ve said, I swear.
Will you? I shall but lend my diamond till your return: let there be covenants drawn between’s: my mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking: I dare you to this match: here’s my ring.
Will you? I’ll just lend you my diamond until you return: let’s make a deal between us: my mistress is so much better than your unworthy thoughts about her: I dare you to this challenge: here’s my ring.
I will have it no lay.
I won’t allow this bet.
By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; so is your diamond too: if I come off, and leave her in such honour as you have trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are yours: provided I have your commendation for my more free entertainment.
By the gods, it’s a real bet. If I can’t prove to you that I’ve enjoyed the most intimate part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; and so is your diamond: if I succeed, and leave her in the kind of honor you believe in, she’s your jewel, this is your jewel, and my gold are yours: provided you give me a good recommendation for my more generous treatment.
I embrace these conditions; let us have articles betwixt us. Only, thus far you shall answer: if you make your voyage upon her and give me directly to understand you have prevailed, I am no further your enemy; she is not worth our debate: if she remain unseduced, you not making it appear otherwise, for your ill opinion and the assault you have made to her chastity you shall answer me with your sword.
I accept these terms; let’s agree on the conditions between us. But only this: you must answer me this way—if you go after her and let me know directly that you’ve succeeded, I will no longer consider you my enemy; she’s not worth arguing over. But if she remains untouched, and you don’t prove otherwise, then for your bad judgment and the attack you made on her honor, you’ll settle it with me by fighting.
Your hand; a covenant: we will have these things set down by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain, lest the bargain should catch cold and starve: I will fetch my gold and have our two wagers recorded.
Your hand; it’s a deal. We’ll make sure these things are written down by proper legal advice, and then head straight for Britain, before the agreement goes stale and falls apart. I’ll get my money and have our two bets officially recorded.
Agreed.
Agreed.
Will this hold, think you?
Do you think this will work?
Signior Iachimo will not from it. Pray, let us follow ’em.
Mr. Iachimo won’t back out. Let’s follow them.