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Modern English
Thus far; and so farewell.
That’s it; and so, farewell.
Thanks, royal sir. My emperor hath wrote, I must from hence; And am right sorry that I must report ye My master’s enemy.
Thank you, your royal highness. My emperor has written, I must leave now; And I am truly sorry to tell you That my master is your enemy.
Our subjects, sir, Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself To show less sovereignty than they, must needs Appear unkinglike.
Our people, sir, Won’t tolerate his rule; and as for us, To show less authority than they would, must surely Look unkingly.
So, sir: I desire of you A conduct over-land to Milford-Haven. Madam, all joy befal your grace!
I understand, sir: I ask of you To arrange for me a guide overland to Milford Haven. Madam, may all joy come to you!
And you!
And to you!
My lords, you are appointed for that office; The due of honour in no point omit. So farewell, noble Lucius.
My lords, you’ve been given this task; Don’t neglect the honor due to it. So goodbye, noble Lucius.
Your hand, my lord.
Your hand, my lord.
Receive it friendly; but from this time forth I wear it as your enemy.
Take it as a friend; but from now on I’ll consider you my enemy.
Sir, the event Is yet to name the winner: fare you well.
Sir, the outcome Has yet to be decided: farewell.
Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords, Till he have cross’d the Severn. Happiness!
Don’t leave the worthy Lucius, good my lords, Until he has crossed the Severn. Good luck!
He goes hence frowning: but it honours us That we have given him cause.
He leaves here frowning, but it honors us That we have given him a reason for it.
’Tis all the better; Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it.
It’s all for the better; Your brave Britons will get what they want from it.
Lucius hath wrote already to the emperor How it goes here. It fits us therefore ripely Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness: The powers that he already hath in Gallia Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves His war for Britain.
Lucius has already written to the emperor About how things are going here. It is now fitting That our chariots and horsemen be prepared: The forces he already has in Gaul Will soon be gathered, from where he’ll launch His war for Britain.
’Tis not sleepy business; But must be look’d to speedily and strongly.
This is no small task; It must be handled quickly and forcefully.
Our expectation that it would be thus Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen, Where is our daughter? She hath not appear’d Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender’d The duty of the day: she looks us like A thing more made of malice than of duty: We have noted it. Call her before us; for We have been too slight in sufferance.
We expected it would turn out this way, And that’s made us act decisively. But, my dear queen, Where is our daughter? She hasn’t appeared Before the Roman, nor has she shown us The respect of the day: she seems to us like Someone more driven by spite than duty: We’ve noticed this. Call her to us; for We’ve been too lenient in letting it slide.
Royal sir, Since the exile of Posthumus, most retired Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord, ’Tis time must do. Beseech your majesty, Forbear sharp speeches to her: she’s a lady So tender of rebukes that words are strokes And strokes death to her.
Your Majesty, Since Posthumus was banished, she has mostly kept to herself Her life has been very quiet; only time, my lord, Can cure her. I beg you, Your Majesty, Please don’t speak harshly to her: she’s a woman So sensitive to criticism that words feel like blows And those blows could kill her.
Where is she, sir? How Can her contempt be answer’d?
Where is she, sir? How Can I respond to her disrespect?
Please you, sir, Her chambers are all lock’d; and there’s no answer That will be given to the loudest noise we make.
If it pleases you, sir, Her rooms are all locked, and there’s no response To even the loudest noise we make.
My lord, when last I went to visit her, She pray’d me to excuse her keeping close, Whereto constrain’d by her infirmity, She should that duty leave unpaid to you, Which daily she was bound to proffer: this She wish’d me to make known; but our great court Made me to blame in memory.
My lord, the last time I visited her, She asked me to excuse her for staying shut in, Saying that, due to her illness, She couldn’t fulfill her daily duty to you, Which she is usually bound to do: this She asked me to explain; but the demands of the court Made me look bad for remembering it.
Her doors lock’d? Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which I fear Prove false!
Her doors locked? Not seen recently? Heaven grant that what I fear Is not true!
Son, I say, follow the king.
Son, I tell you, follow the king.
That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, have not seen these two days.
That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, I haven’t seen him for the past two days.
Go, look after.
Go, check on him.
Pisanio, thou that stand’st so for Posthumus! He hath a drug of mine; I pray his absence Proceed by swallowing that, for he believes It is a thing most precious. But for her, Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seized her, Or, wing’d with fervor of her love, she’s flown To her desired Posthumus: gone she is To death or to dishonour; and my end Can make good use of either: she being down, I have the placing of the British crown.
Pisanio, you who are so loyal to Posthumus! He has a potion of mine; I hope his absence Is because he took it, thinking it’s something valuable. But what about her, Where has she gone? Maybe despair has taken her, Or maybe, driven by her love, she’s flown To be with Posthumus: gone she is To death or disgrace; and my own fate Can make good use of either: with her out of the way, I can claim the British throne.
How now, my son!
How now, my son!
’Tis certain she is fled. Go in and cheer the king: he rages; none Dare come about him.
It’s certain she’s fled. Go in and comfort the king: he’s furious; no one Dares approach him.
[Aside] All the better: may This night forestall him of the coming day!
[Aside] All the better: may This night prevent him from seeing the morning!
I love and hate her: for she’s fair and royal, And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite Than lady, ladies, woman; from every one The best she hath, and she, of all compounded, Outsells them all; I love her therefore: but Disdaining me and throwing favours on The low Posthumus slanders so her judgment That what’s else rare is choked; and in that point I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed, To be revenged upon her. For when fools Shall--
I love her and I hate her: because she’s beautiful and royal, And because she has every noble trait more perfectly Than any woman, lady, or girl; she has the best of everything From each one of them, and she, being a combination of all, Is better than them all; that’s why I love her. But She disrespects me and gives her attention to The low-born Posthumus, which makes her judgment seem so wrong That all the good things about her are ruined; and because of this I’ll decide to hate her, yes, actually, To take revenge on her. For when fools should--
Who is here? What, are you packing, sirrah? Come hither: ah, you precious pander! Villain, Where is thy lady? In a word; or else Thou art straightway with the fiends.
Who’s there? What, are you packing, you scoundrel? Come here: ah, you sly trickster! Villain, Where is your lady? Tell me now; or else You’ll be with the devils right away.
O, good my lord!
Oh, my good lord!
Where is thy lady? Or, by Jupiter,-- I will not ask again. Close villain, I’ll have this secret from thy heart, or rip Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus? From whose so many weights of baseness cannot A dram of worth be drawn.
Where is your lady? Or, by Jupiter,-- I won’t ask again. You sneaky villain, I’ll get this secret from your heart, or I’ll rip Your heart open to find it. Is she with Posthumus? From whose many faults no Trace of worth can be found.
Alas, my lord, How can she be with him? When was she missed? He is in Rome.
Alas, my lord, How can she be with him? When was she last seen? He’s in Rome.
Where is she, sir? Come nearer; No further halting: satisfy me home What is become of her.
Where is she, then? Come closer; Don’t hesitate: tell me right now What’s happened to her.
O, my all-worthy lord!
Oh, my most honorable lord!
All-worthy villain! Discover where thy mistress is at once, At the next word: no more of ’worthy lord!’ Speak, or thy silence on the instant is Thy condemnation and thy death.
Most honorable villain! Tell me at once where your mistress is, Don’t talk about ’honorable lord!’ Speak, or your silence right now will mean Your guilt and your death.
Then, sir, This paper is the history of my knowledge Touching her flight.
Then, sir, This paper is the story of what I know About her leaving.
Let’s see’t. I will pursue her Even to Augustus’ throne.
Let me see it. I’ll chase her Even to the emperor’s throne.
[Aside] Or this, or perish. She’s far enough; and what he learns by this May prove his travel, not her danger.
[Aside] Either this, or perish. She’s far enough away; and what he learns from this Might just prove his journey, not her danger.
Hum!
Hmm!
[Aside] I’ll write to my lord she’s dead. O Imogen, Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again!
[Aside] I’ll write to my lord that she’s dead. Oh Imogen, May you wander safely and return safely!
Sirrah, is this letter true?
Is this letter really true?
Sir, as I think.
Yes, sir, I believe it is.
It is Posthumus’ hand; I know’t. Sirrah, if thou wouldst not be a villain, but do me true service, undergo those employments wherein I should have cause to use thee with a serious industry, that is, what villany soe’er I bid thee do, to perform it directly and truly, I would think thee an honest man: thou shouldst neither want my means for thy relief nor my voice for thy preferment.
This is Posthumus’ handwriting; I can tell. If you wouldn’t be a villain, but truly serve me, take on those jobs where I could have reason to trust you seriously, that is, whatever evil I tell you to do, to do it honestly and correctly, I’d consider you a good man: you’d never lack my support for your help or my endorsement for your advancement.
Well, my good lord.
Yes, my lord.
Wilt thou serve me? for since patiently and constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not, in the course of gratitude, but be a diligent follower of mine: wilt thou serve me?
Will you serve me? Since you’ve patiently and loyally stuck with that poor man Posthumus, you can’t, out of gratitude, do anything but follow me diligently: will you serve me?
Sir, I will.
Yes, sir, I will.
Give me thy hand; here’s my purse. Hast any of thy late master’s garments in thy possession?
Give me your hand; here’s my purse. Do you have any of your former master’s clothes with you?
I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress.
Yes, my lord, at my lodging, I have the same suit he wore when he left my lady and mistress.
The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither: let it be thy lint service; go.
The first thing you’ll do for me is bring that suit here: let that be your first job; go.
I shall, my lord.
I’ll go, my lord.
Meet thee at Milford-Haven!--I forgot to ask him one thing; I’ll remember’t anon:--even there, thou villain Posthumus, will I kill thee. I would these garments were come. She said upon a time--the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart--that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person together with the adornment of my qualities. With that suit upon my back, will I ravish her: first kill him, and in her eyes; there shall she see my valour, which will then be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my speech of insultment ended on his dead body, and when my lust hath dined,--which, as I say, to vex her I will execute in the clothes that she so praised,--to the court I’ll knock her back, foot her home again. She hath despised me rejoicingly, and I’ll be merry in my revenge.
I’ll meet you at Milford-Haven!--I forgot to ask him one thing; I’ll remember it in a moment:--even there, you villain Posthumus, I will kill you. I wish these clothes would hurry up. She once said—oh, how bitter that memory is now, I can feel it in my heart—that she respected Posthumus’ clothes more than she did me, along with all my noble qualities. With those clothes on me, I’ll seduce her: first kill him, and in front of her; then she’ll see my bravery, which will be a torture to her disrespect. He’ll be on the ground, my insults finished on his dead body, and when my lust is satisfied,—which, as I said, to upset her I’ll do it in the clothes she once praised,—then I’ll return to the court, push her away, and send her home again. She has happily scorned me, and I’ll take joy in my revenge.
Be those the garments?
Are these the clothes?
Ay, my noble lord.
Yes, my noble lord.
How long is’t since she went to Milford-Haven?
How long ago did she go to Milford-Haven?
She can scarce be there yet.
She can hardly be there yet.
Bring this apparel to my chamber; that is the second thing that I have commanded thee: the third is, that thou wilt be a voluntary mute to my design. Be but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself to thee. My revenge is now at Milford: would I had wings to follow it! Come, and be true.
Bring this clothes to my room; that’s the second thing I’ve told you to do: the third is, that you’ll keep silent about my plan. Just be loyal, and success will come your way. My revenge is happening now at Milford: I wish I had wings to follow it! Come, and stay loyal.
Thou bid’st me to my loss: for true to thee Were to prove false, which I will never be, To him that is most true. To Milford go, And find not her whom thou pursuest. Flow, flow, You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool’s speed Be cross’d with slowness; labour be his meed!
You ask me to betray myself: to be true to you would mean being false, which I’ll never do, to the one who is truly good. To Milford I’ll go, and not find her whom you’re chasing. May blessings rain down on her! May this fool’s speed be slowed; let his effort be his punishment!