Original
Modern English
a trunk in one corner of it.
a trunk in one corner of it.
Who’s there? my woman Helen?
Who’s there? my woman Helen?
Please you, madam
Please you, madam
What hour is it?
What hour is it?
Almost midnight, madam.
Almost midnight, madam.
I have read three hours then: mine eyes are weak: Fold down the leaf where I have left: to bed: Take not away the taper, leave it burning; And if thou canst awake by four o’ the clock, I prithee, call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly
I’ve been reading for three hours then: my eyes are tired: Fold down the page where I’ve left off: to bed: Don’t take away the candle, leave it burning; And if you can wake me by four o’ the clock, I beg you, call me. Sleep has completely taken me
To your protection I commend me, gods. From fairies and the tempters of the night Guard me, beseech ye.
To your protection I commend myself, gods. From fairies and the tempters of the night Guard me, I beg you.
The crickets sing, and man’s o’er-labour’d sense Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken’d The chastity he wounded. Cytherea, How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh lily, And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch! But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon’d, How dearly they do’t! ’Tis her breathing that Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o’ the taper Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids, To see the enclosed lights, now canopied Under these windows, white and azure laced With blue of heaven’s own tinct. But my design, To note the chamber: I will write all down: Such and such pictures; there the window; such The adornment of her bed; the arras; figures, Why, such and such; and the contents o’ the story. Ah, but some natural notes about her body, Above ten thousand meaner moveables Would testify, to enrich mine inventory. O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her! And be her sense but as a monument, Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come off:
The crickets sing, and man’s tired senses Heal themselves with rest. Our Tarquin thus Did softly press the rushes, before he woke The chastity he violated. Cytherea, How beautifully you look in your bed, fresh lily, And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch! But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unmatched, How dearly they do it! It’s her breathing that Fills the room with perfume: the flame of the candle Bows toward her, and would peek under her eyelids, To see the light hidden there, now covered Under these windows, white and blue laced With the blue of heaven itself. But my plan, To study the room: I’ll write everything down: Such and such pictures; there the window; such The decoration of her bed; the tapestry; figures, Why, such and such; and the contents of the story. Ah, but some natural marks on her body, Above ten thousand lesser things Would prove, to fill up my inventory. O sleep, thou twin of death, lie heavy on her! And let her senses be like a monument, Lying like a statue in a chapel! Come off, come off:
As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard! ’Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly, As strongly as the conscience does within, To the madding of her lord. On her left breast A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops I’ the bottom of a cowslip: here’s a voucher, Stronger than ever law could make: this secret Will force him think I have pick’d the lock and ta’en The treasure of her honour. No more. To what end? Why should I write this down, that’s riveted, Screw’d to my memory? She hath been reading late The tale of Tereus; here the leaf’s turn’d down Where Philomel gave up. I have enough: To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it. Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning May bare the raven’s eye! I lodge in fear; Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here.
As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard! It’s mine; and this will testify outwardly, As strongly as the conscience does within, To ruin her husband’s mind. On her left breast A mole with five spots, like the crimson drops In the bottom of a cowslip: here’s proof, Stronger than any law could create: this secret Will make him think I’ve picked the lock and taken The treasure of her honor. No more. For what purpose? Why should I write this down, that’s sealed, Screwed into my memory? She’s been reading late The story of Tereus; here the page’s turned Where Philomela gave up. I have enough: Back to the trunk, and close the spring of it. Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawn May reveal the raven’s eye! I lie in fear; Though this is a heavenly angel, hell is here.
One, two, three: time, time!
One, two, three: time, time!