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A father cruel, and a step-dame false; A foolish suitor to a wedded lady, That hath her husband banish’d;--O, that husband! My supreme crown of grief! and those repeated Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stol’n, As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable Is the desire that’s glorious: blest be those, How mean soe’er, that have their honest wills, Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie!
A cruel father, and a deceitful stepmother; A foolish suitor to a married woman, Who has had her husband banished;--Oh, that husband! My greatest sorrow! and all the troubles that come with it! Had I been stolen by thieves, Like my two brothers, I’d be better off! But the greatest misery Is the longing for something glorious: blessed be those, No matter how humble, who have their honest desires, Which bring comfort. Who could this be? Oh!
Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome, Comes from my lord with letters.
Madam, a noble gentleman from Rome, Has come from my lord with letters.
Change you, madam? The worthy Leonatus is in safety And greets your highness dearly.
Do you change, madam? The worthy Leonatus is safe And sends his warm regards to your highness.
Thanks, good sir: You’re kindly welcome.
Thank you, good sir: You are very welcome.
[Aside] All of her that is out of door most rich! If she be furnish’d with a mind so rare, She is alone the Arabian bird, and I Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend! Arm me, audacity, from head to foot! Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight; Rather directly fly.
[Aside] Everything about her that’s visible is so rich! If she’s truly blessed with such a rare mind, She is like the unique Arabian bird, and I Have lost the bet. Let boldness be my ally! Equip me with audacity, from head to toe! Or, like the Parthian, I’ll fight while retreating; Or better yet, just run away.
[Reads] ’He is one of the noblest note, to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon him accordingly, as you value your trust-- LEONATUS.’ So far I read aloud: But even the very middle of my heart Is warm’d by the rest, and takes it thankfully. You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I Have words to bid you, and shall find it so In all that I can do.
[Reads] ’He is one of the most honorable people, to whose kindnesses I am deeply indebted. Think of him accordingly, as you value your trust-- LEONATUS.’ So far I read aloud: But even the very middle of my heart Is warmed by the rest, and takes it gratefully. You are as welcome, honorable sir, as I Have words to greet you, and you will find it so In everything I can do.
Thanks, fairest lady. What, are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop Of sea and land, which can distinguish ’twixt The fiery orbs above and the twinn’d stones Upon the number’d beach? and can we not Partition make with spectacles so precious ’Twixt fair and foul?
Thank you, beautiful lady. What, are men insane? Has nature given them eyes To see this sky above, and the rich harvest Of sea and land, which can distinguish between The fiery orbs in the sky and the twin stones On the numbered beach? And can we not Make a distinction with such precious sights Between what’s beautiful and what’s not?
What makes your admiration?
What is it that amazes you?
It cannot be i’ the eye, for apes and monkeys ’Twixt two such shes would chatter this way and Contemn with mows the other; nor i’ the judgment, For idiots in this case of favour would Be wisely definite; nor i’ the appetite; Sluttery to such neat excellence opposed Should make desire vomit emptiness, Not so allured to feed.
It can’t be in the eyes, because even apes and monkeys Between two such women would gossip like this and Disrespect the other with grimaces; nor in the judgment, Because fools in matters of love would Be wisely clear; nor in the desire; Laziness towards such neat excellence would Make desire reject it, not drawn to feed.
What is the matter, trow?
What’s the matter, I wonder?
The cloyed will, That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub Both fill’d and running, ravening first the lamb Longs after for the garbage.
The satisfied will, That full yet unsatisfied desire, that cup Both filled and overflowing, first devouring the lamb Now craves the garbage.
What, dear sir, Thus raps you? Are you well?
What, dear sir, Is troubling you? Are you well?
Thanks, madam; well.
Thank you, madam; I am fine.
Beseech you, sir, desire My man’s abode where I did leave him: he Is strange and peevish.
Please, sir, ask Where my man is staying, where I left him: he Is acting strange and moody.
I was going, sir, To give him welcome.
I was about to, sir, Welcome him myself.
Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you?
Is he still doing well, my lord? His health, I ask?
Well, madam.
Yes, madam.
Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.
Is he in the mood for joy? I hope he is.
Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there So merry and so gamesome: he is call’d The Briton reveller.
Very cheerful; no one is a stranger there So happy and playful: he’s called The Briton reveler.
When he was here, He did incline to sadness, and oft-times Not knowing why.
When he was here, He seemed to be sad, and often Didn’t know why.
I never saw him sad. There is a Frenchman his companion, one An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much loves A Gallian girl at home; he furnaces The thick sighs from him, whiles the jolly Briton-- Your lord, I mean--laughs from’s free lungs, cries ’O, Can my sides hold, to think that man, who knows By history, report, or his own proof, What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose But must be, will his free hours languish for Assured bondage?’
I never saw him sad. There’s a Frenchman who is his companion, a man Who seems to love a French girl back home; He hides his sadness behind deep sighs, while the cheerful Briton-- Your husband, I mean--laughs freely, and says, "Oh, Can I keep it together, thinking that a man, who knows By history, stories, or his own experience, What a woman is, and what she has to be, Will he waste his time in sad hours, longing for Certain slavery?"
Will my lord say so?
Did my husband say that?
Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter: It is a recreation to be by And hear him mock the Frenchman. But, heavens know, Some men are much to blame.
Yes, madam, with his eyes full of laughter: It’s a game to watch him tease the Frenchman. But, heaven knows, Some men are really to blame.
Not he, I hope.
I hope not him.
Not he: but yet heaven’s bounty towards him might Be used more thankfully. In himself, ’tis much; In you, which I account his beyond all talents, Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound To pity too.
Not him: but still, heaven’s generosity toward him might Be used with more gratitude. In himself, it’s a lot; But in you, whom I think he values above all else, While I am amazed, I also feel pity.
What do you pity, sir?
What do you pity, sir?
Two creatures heartily.
Two people, sincerely.
Am I one, sir? You look on me: what wreck discern you in me Deserves your pity?
Am I one of them, sir? You’re looking at me: what do you see in me That deserves your pity?
Lamentable! What, To hide me from the radiant sun and solace I’ the dungeon by a snuff?
How sad! What, To hide me from the bright sun and comfort In a dungeon with just a tiny light?
I pray you, sir, Deliver with more openness your answers To my demands. Why do you pity me?
Please, sir, Answer my questions more clearly. Why do you pity me?
That others do-- I was about to say--enjoy your--But It is an office of the gods to venge it, Not mine to speak on ’t.
Because others do-- I was about to say--enjoy your--But It is the gods’ job to punish it, Not mine to talk about it.
You do seem to know Something of me, or what concerns me: pray you,-- Since doubling things go ill often hurts more Than to be sure they do; for certainties Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing, The remedy then born--discover to me What both you spur and stop.
You seem to know Something about me, or about what concerns me: please, Since confusing things often hurt more Than just knowing the truth; for certainties Are either beyond help, or if we know in time, The solution comes. Please tell me What you both encourage and prevent.
Had I this cheek To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch, Whose every touch, would force the feeler’s soul To the oath of loyalty; this object, which Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye, Fixing it only here; should I, damn’d then, Slaver with lips as common as the stairs That mount the Capitol; join gripes with hands Made hard with hourly falsehood--falsehood, as With labour; then by-peeping in an eye Base and unlustrous as the smoky light That’s fed with stinking tallow; it were fit That all the plagues of hell should at one time Encounter such revolt.
If I had this cheek To press my lips against; this hand, whose touch, Whose every touch, would make the person feel The loyalty oath in their soul; this face, which Holds my wild gaze captive, Fixing it only here; should I, damned then, Kiss with lips as common as the stairs That lead to the Capitol; join hands Soiled with daily lies--lies, as Hard as labor; then peeking into an eye Dull and unattractive as the smoky light Fed by dirty tallow; it would be right For all the curses of hell to fall on someone Who betrays like that.
My lord, I fear, Has forgot Britain.
My lord, I fear, Has forgotten Britain.
And himself. Not I, Inclined to this intelligence, pronounce The beggary of his change; but ’tis your graces That from pay mutest conscience to my tongue Charms this report out.
And himself. Not I, Inclined to this knowledge, I announce The poverty of his change; but it is your grace That, from the depths of your conscience, compels Me to tell you this.
Let me hear no more.
I don’t want to hear any more.
O dearest soul! your cause doth strike my heart With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady So fair, and fasten’d to an empery, Would make the great’st king double,--to be partner’d With tomboys hired with that self-exhibition Which your own coffers yield! with diseased ventures That play with all infirmities for gold Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil’d stuff As well might poison poison! Be revenged; Or she that bore you was no queen, and you Recoil from your great stock.
Oh, dearest lady! Your situation breaks my heart With pity, to the point that I feel sick. A woman So beautiful, and tied to a kingdom, Would make even the greatest king feel less important—if he had to share His life with brats hired by the very wealth You have in your own coffers! With dangerous investments That prey on all weaknesses for money, The kind of corruption that nature itself can offer! Such vile stuff Might as well poison poison itself! Get your revenge; Or the woman who gave you birth was no queen, and you Are distancing yourself from your noble ancestry.
Revenged! How should I be revenged? If this be true,-- As I have such a heart that both mine ears Must not in haste abuse--if it be true, How should I be revenged?
Revenge? How should I take revenge? If this is true— As I have a heart that won’t just believe rumors— If this is true, how can I take revenge?
Should he make me Live, like Diana’s priest, betwixt cold sheets, Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps, In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it. I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure, More noble than that runagate to your bed, And will continue fast to your affection, Still close as sure.
Should he force me To live like a priest of Diana, between cold sheets, While he enjoys himself, leaping on shifting pleasures, And mocks you, using your money? Take revenge! I dedicate myself to your pleasure, More noble than that scoundrel in your bed, And I will stay loyal to your love, Always close and certain.
What, ho, Pisanio!
What, Pisanio!
Let me my service tender on your lips.
Let me offer my services to you, with my lips.
Away! I do condemn mine ears that have So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable, Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not For such an end thou seek’st,--as base as strange. Thou wrong’st a gentleman, who is as far From thy report as thou from honour, and Solicit’st here a lady that disdains Thee and the devil alike. What ho, Pisanio! The king my father shall be made acquainted Of thy assault: if he shall think it fit, A saucy stranger in his court to mart As in a Romish stew and to expound His beastly mind to us, he hath a court He little cares for and a daughter who He not respects at all. What, ho, Pisanio!
Go away! I regret the time I’ve spent listening to you. If you were honorable, You would have told this story for the sake of virtue, not For the low purpose you seem to have—so dishonorable and strange. You wrong a true gentleman, who is as far From your accusations as you are from honor, and You try to seduce a lady who despises You and everything evil. What, Pisanio! My father, the king, will be told of your attack. If he thinks it appropriate, To allow a rude foreigner in his court to behave Like some rogue in a brothel and spread His vile thoughts to us, he has a court He doesn’t care about, and a daughter he doesn’t respect at all. What, Pisanio!
O happy Leonatus! I may say The credit that thy lady hath of thee Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness Her assured credit. Blessed live you long! A lady to the worthiest sir that ever Country call’d his! and you his mistress, only For the most worthiest fit! Give me your pardon. I have spoke this, to know if your affiance Were deeply rooted; and shall make your lord, That which he is, new o’er: and he is one The truest manner’d; such a holy witch That he enchants societies into him; Half all men’s hearts are his.
Oh, lucky Leonatus! I can say That the reputation your lady has for you Deserves your trust, and your perfect goodness Her unquestionable faith in you. May you live long, blessed! A lady to the worthiest man that ever A country could call its own! And you, his mistress, perfectly matched to him! Forgive me. I’ve said this to see if your commitment Is deeply rooted; and I’ll make your husband, The man he truly is, even more worthy: he is the truest of men, A kind of holy sorcerer Who can win over the hearts of all— Half the men’s hearts belong to him.
You make amends.
You’ve made up for it.
He sits ’mongst men like a descended god: He hath a kind of honour sets him off, More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry, Most mighty princess, that I have adventured To try your taking a false report; which hath Honour’d with confirmation your great judgment In the election of a sir so rare, Which you know cannot err: the love I bear him Made me to fan you thus, but the gods made you, Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray, your pardon.
He stands among men like a god descended to earth: He has an honor that sets him apart, More than any mere mortal. Please don’t be angry, Most noble princess, that I dared To test whether you would believe a false report, which Has now only confirmed your great judgment In choosing such a rare man, a man who cannot make mistakes: the love I feel for him Led me to test your faith, but the gods made you, Unlike any other woman, beyond reproach. Please, forgive me.
All’s well, sir: take my power i’ the court for yours.
All is forgiven, sir: take my influence in the court As your own.
My humble thanks. I had almost forgot To entreat your grace but in a small request, And yet of moment to, for it concerns Your lord; myself and other noble friends, Are partners in the business.
My sincere thanks. I almost forgot To make a small request, but one of great importance, Since it concerns Your lord, myself, and other noble friends Who are all involved in the matter.
Pray, what is’t?
What is it?
Some dozen Romans of us and your lord-- The best feather of our wing--have mingled sums To buy a present for the emperor Which I, the factor for the rest, have done In France: ’tis plate of rare device, and jewels Of rich and exquisite form; their values great; And I am something curious, being strange, To have them in safe stowage: may it please you To take them in protection?
Some dozen of us Romans, along with your lord—the best of us— Have pooled our money To buy a gift for the emperor, Which I, as the one handling the money, have arranged In France. It’s rare silver and fine jewels Of great value and exquisite design; I’m just a little cautious, being new to this, And I want to make sure they are safely kept. Would you please Take them under your protection?
Willingly; And pawn mine honour for their safety: since My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them In my bedchamber.
Of course; And I’ll guarantee their safety with my honor: since My lord has a stake in them, I’ll keep them In my bedroom.
They are in a trunk, Attended by my men: I will make bold To send them to you, only for this night; I must aboard to-morrow.
They’re in a trunk, Attended by my servants. I’ll have them sent to you, but just for tonight; I have to leave tomorrow.
O, no, no.
Oh, no, no.
Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word By lengthening my return. From Gallia I cross’d the seas on purpose and on promise To see your grace.
Yes, please; or I’ll cut my speech short By making my return longer. I crossed the seas From Gaul specifically and on promise To see you, Your Highness.
I thank you for your pains: But not away to-morrow!
Thank you for your trouble: But not tomorrow!
O, I must, madam: Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please To greet your lord with writing, do’t to-night: I have outstood my time; which is material To the tender of our present.
Oh, I must, madam: So I’ll ask you, if you don’t mind, To send your husband a letter, do it tonight: I’ve overstayed my time; and it’s important For the offer we’re making right now.
I will write. Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept, And truly yielded you. You’re very welcome.
I’ll write. Send your trunk to me; I’ll keep it safe, And give it back to you properly. You’re very welcome.