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Modern English
If but as well I other accents borrow, That can my speech defuse, my good intent May carry through itself to that full issue For which I razed my likeness. Now, banish’d Kent, If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn’d, So may it come, thy master, whom thou lovest, Shall find thee full of labours.
If only I could borrow other accents too, That might disguise my speech, my good intentions Might reach their goal without obstruction, For which I disguised myself. Now, banished Kent, If you can serve while being condemned, So be it, your master, whom you love, Shall find you full of effort.
Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go get it ready.
Don’t make me wait for dinner; go get it ready.
How now! what art thou?
What’s this! Who are you?
A man, sir.
I’m a man, sir.
What dost thou profess? what wouldst thou with us?
What do you do? What do you want with us?
I do profess to be no less than I seem; to serve him truly that will put me in trust: to love him that is honest; to converse with him that is wise, and says little; to fear judgment; to fight when I cannot choose; and to eat no fish.
I claim to be no less than I appear; to serve the one who trusts me; to love the honest man; to associate with the wise, who speaks little; to fear judgment; to fight when I must; and to never eat fish.
What art thou?
Who are you, then?
A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the king.
A very honest man, and as poor as the king.
If thou be as poor for a subject as he is for a king, thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou?
If you’re as poor as a subject as he is as a king, then you’re poor enough. What do you want?
Service.
Service.
Who wouldst thou serve?
Who would you serve?
You.
You.
Dost thou know me, fellow?
Do you know me, fellow?
No, sir; but you have that in your countenance which I would fain call master.
No, sir; but you have something in your face that I would gladly call my master.
What’s that?
What’s that?
Authority.
Power.
What services canst thou do?
What can you do for me?
I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious tale in telling it, and deliver a plain message bluntly: that which ordinary men are fit for, I am qualified in; and the best of me is diligence.
I can keep a secret, ride, run, ruin a good story by telling it, and deliver a straightforward message bluntly: I’m good at the things regular people are good at, and my greatest strength is hard work.
How old art thou?
How old are you?
Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor so old to dote on her for any thing: I have years on my back forty eight.
Not so young, sir, that I would fall in love with a woman just for singing, and not so old that I’d become obsessed with her for anything else: I’ve got 48 years behind me.
Follow me; thou shalt serve me: if I like thee no worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet. Dinner, ho, dinner! Where’s my knave? my fool? Go you, and call my fool hither.
Follow me; you’ll serve me: if I don’t dislike you after dinner, I’ll keep you around. Dinner, hey, dinner! Where’s my fool? Where’s my jester? Go and bring him here.
You, you, sirrah, where’s my daughter?
You there, where is my daughter?
So please you,--
If it pleases you—
What says the fellow there? Call the clotpoll back.
What’s that guy saying? Call that idiot back.
Where’s my fool, ho? I think the world’s asleep.
Where’s my fool? I think everyone’s asleep.
How now! where’s that mongrel?
What now! Where’s that useless person?
He says, my lord, your daughter is not well.
He says, my lord, your daughter is not well.
Why came not the slave back to me when I called him.
Why didn’t the servant come back to me when I called him?
Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he would not.
Sir, he answered me in the clearest way possible—he would not.
He would not!
He would not?!
My lord, I know not what the matter is; but, to my judgment, your highness is not entertained with that ceremonious affection as you were wont; there’s a great abatement of kindness appears as well in the general dependants as in the duke himself also and your daughter.
My lord, I don’t know what the problem is, but from what I can tell, your highness isn’t being treated with the same respect and affection as before. There’s a clear decrease in kindness, both from the people around you, the duke, and your daughter.
Ha! sayest thou so?
Ha! Is that so?
I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken; for my duty cannot be silent when I think your highness wronged.
I beg you to forgive me, my lord, if I’m wrong; but I can’t stay silent when I believe your highness is being wronged.
Thou but rememberest me of mine own conception: I have perceived a most faint neglect of late; which I have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity than as a very pretence and purpose of unkindness: I will look further into’t. But where’s my fool? I have not seen him this two days.
You’ve just reminded me of my own thoughts: I’ve noticed a slight neglect recently, which I’ve blamed on my own jealous curiosity more than on any real intention of unkindness. I’ll look into it further. But where’s my fool? I haven’t seen him in two days.
Since my young lady’s going into France, sir, the fool hath much pined away.
Since my young lady left for France, sir, the fool has become very sad.
No more of that; I have noted it well. Go you, and tell my daughter I would speak with her.
No more about that; I’ve noticed it. Go, and tell my daughter I need to speak with her.
Go you, call hither my fool.
Go, call my fool here.
O, you sir, you, come you hither, sir: who am I, sir?
Oh, you there, come here: who am I, tell me?
My lady’s father.
My lady’s father.
’My lady’s father’! my lord’s knave: your whoreson dog! you slave! you cur!
"My lady’s father"! my lord’s servant: your bastard dog! you slave! you coward!
I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon.
I’m none of these, my lord; I beg your pardon.
Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?
Are you staring at me, you scoundrel?
I’ll not be struck, my lord.
I won’t be hit, my lord.
Nor tripped neither, you base football player.
Nor knocked down, either, you worthless football player.
I thank thee, fellow; thou servest me, and I’ll love thee.
I thank you, friend; you’re helping me, and I’ll love you for it.
Come, sir, arise, away! I’ll teach you differences: away, away! if you will measure your lubber’s length again, tarry: but away! go to; have you wisdom? so.
Come on, get up, let’s go! I’ll teach you some manners: let’s go! if you want to fight again, stay; but go on! do you have any sense? well then.
Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee: there’s earnest of thy service.
Now, my good servant, I thank you: here’s a token of your service.
Let me hire him too: here’s my coxcomb.
Let me hire him too: here’s my hat.
How now, my pretty knave! how dost thou?
What’s this, my funny servant! how are you?
Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.
Sir, you’d better take my silly hat.
Why, fool?
Why, fool?
Why, for taking one’s part that’s out of favour: nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind sits, thou’lt catch cold shortly: there, take my coxcomb: why, this fellow has banished two on’s daughters, and did the third a blessing against his will; if thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb. How now, nuncle! Would I had two coxcombs and two daughters!
Because you’re taking the side of someone who’s unpopular: if you can’t smile when things go wrong, you’ll catch a cold soon enough. Here, take my silly hat: this guy has disowned two of his daughters, and did the third a favor against his will; if you follow him, you’ll have to wear my silly hat. Hey, uncle! I wish I had two silly hats and two daughters!
Why, my boy?
Why, my boy?
If I gave them all my living, I’ld keep my coxcombs myself. There’s mine; beg another of thy daughters.
If I gave them everything I have, I’d still keep my silly hats for myself. Here’s mine; ask another of your daughters.
Take heed, sirrah; the whip.
Be careful, sir; you’ll get a beating.
Truth’s a dog must to kennel; he must be whipped out, when Lady the brach may stand by the fire and stink.
The truth must be locked up; it has to be beaten down, while Lady the dog can stand by the fire and stink.
A pestilent gall to me!
A terrible pain to me!
Sirrah, I’ll teach thee a speech.
Sir, I’ll teach you a lesson.
Do.
Go ahead.
Mark it, nuncle: Have more than thou showest, Speak less than thou knowest, Lend less than thou owest, Ride more than thou goest, Learn more than thou trowest, Set less than thou throwest; Leave thy drink and thy whore, And keep in-a-door, And thou shalt have more Than two tens to a score.
Listen, uncle: Have more than you show, Speak less than you know, Lend less than you owe, Ride more than you go, Learn more than you believe, Spend less than you waste; Stay away from drinking and women, And stay inside, And you’ll have more Than twenty for every score.
This is nothing, fool.
This is nonsense, fool.
Then ’tis like the breath of an unfee’d lawyer; you gave me nothing for’t. Can you make no use of nothing, nuncle?
Then it’s like the breath of an unpaid lawyer; you gave me nothing for it. Can you make any use of nothing, uncle?
Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out of nothing.
Why, no, boy; nothing can come from nothing.
[To KENT] Prithee, tell him, so much the rent of his land comes to: he will not believe a fool.
[To KENT] Please, tell him, that’s how much the rent of his land amounts to: he won’t believe a fool.
A bitter fool!
A bitter fool!
Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a bitter fool and a sweet fool?
Do you know the difference, my boy, between a bitter fool and a sweet fool?
No, lad; teach me.
No, boy; teach me.
That lord that counsell’d thee To give away thy land, Come place him here by me, Do thou for him stand: The sweet and bitter fool Will presently appear; The one in motley here, The other found out there.
That man who advised you To give away your land, Bring him here next to me, You stand in for him: The sweet and bitter fool Will show up right away; One in foolish clothes here, The other found out there.
Dost thou call me fool, boy?
Are you calling me a fool, boy?
All thy other titles thou hast given away; that thou wast born with.
You’ve given away all your other titles; You were born with them.
This is not altogether fool, my lord.
This isn’t entirely foolish, my lord.
No, faith, lords and great men will not let me; if I had a monopoly out, they would have part on’t: and ladies too, they will not let me have all fool to myself; they’ll be snatching. Give me an egg, nuncle, and I’ll give thee two crowns.
No, really, lords and important men won’t let me; if I had a monopoly, they’d want a share: and women too, they won’t let me keep all the fool to myself; they’ll be grabbing. Give me an egg, uncle, and I’ll give you two crowns.
What two crowns shall they be?
What two crowns are you talking about?
Why, after I have cut the egg i’ the middle, and eat up the meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou clovest thy crown i’ the middle, and gavest away both parts, thou borest thy ass on thy back o’er the dirt: thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown, when thou gavest thy golden one away. If I speak like myself in this, let him be whipped that first finds it so.
Well, after I cut the egg in half, and eat the inside, the two crowns of the egg. When you split your crown in half, and gave away both parts, you carried your own burden on your back through the mud: you weren’t very smart in your bald crown, when you gave away your golden one. If I speak like myself in this, let the first person who understands it be punished.
Fools had ne’er less wit in a year; For wise men are grown foppish, They know not how their wits to wear, Their manners are so apish.
Fools have never had less sense in a year; Because wise men have become vain, They don’t know how to use their wits properly, Their manners are so childish.
When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah?
When did you start singing so much, rascal?
I have used it, nuncle, ever since thou madest thy daughters thy mothers: for when thou gavest them the rod, and put’st down thine own breeches,
I’ve been doing it, uncle, ever since you made your daughters your mothers: when you gave them the authority, and lowered your own dignity,
Then they for sudden joy did weep, And I for sorrow sung, That such a king should play bo-peep, And go the fools among. Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach thy fool to lie: I would fain learn to lie.
Then they suddenly cried with joy, And I sang in sorrow, That such a king should play childish games, And go around with fools. Please, uncle, hire a schoolmaster who can teach your fool how to lie: I’d really like to learn how to lie.
An you lie, sirrah, we’ll have you whipped.
If you lie, rascal, we’ll have you whipped.
I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are: they’ll have me whipped for speaking true, thou’lt have me whipped for lying; and sometimes I am whipped for holding my peace. I had rather be any kind o’ thing than a fool: and yet I would not be thee, nuncle; thou hast pared thy wit o’ both sides, and left nothing i’ the middle: here comes one o’ the parings.
I wonder what connection you and your daughters have: they’ll have me whipped for telling the truth, and you’ll have me whipped for lying; and sometimes I’m whipped for staying silent. I’d rather be anything else than a fool: and yet I wouldn’t want to be you, uncle; you’ve trimmed away your wits on both sides, leaving nothing in the middle: here comes one of the scraps.
How now, daughter! what makes that frontlet on? Methinks you are too much of late i’ the frown.
Well, daughter! Why do you wear that scowl? Lately, you’ve been frowning too much.
Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to care for her frowning; now thou art an O without a figure: I am better than thou art now; I am a fool, thou art nothing.
You were a fine fellow when you didn’t need to worry about her frowning; now you’re a zero without a number: I’m better off than you are now; I’m a fool, you’re nothing.
Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue; so your face bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum, He that keeps nor crust nor crum, Weary of all, shall want some.
Yes, sure, I will keep quiet; your face tells me to, even though you say nothing. Quiet, quiet, He who keeps neither crust nor crumb, Tired of all, will lack some.
That’s a shealed peascod.
That’s an empty pea pod.
Not only, sir, this your all-licensed fool, But other of your insolent retinue Do hourly carp and quarrel; breaking forth In rank and not-to-be endured riots. Sir, I had thought, by making this well known unto you, To have found a safe redress; but now grow fearful, By what yourself too late have spoke and done. That you protect this course, and put it on By your allowance; which if you should, the fault Would not ’scape censure, nor the redresses sleep, Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal, Might in their working do you that offence, Which else were shame, that then necessity Will call discreet proceeding.
Not just this fool of yours, sir, But others in your rude entourage Constantly criticize and argue; breaking out In outrageous, intolerable behavior. Sir, I had hoped by bringing this to your attention, To find a solution; but now I’m afraid, Given what you’ve recently said and done, That you actually support this behavior and allow it; Which, if you do, the blame won’t go unnoticed, Nor will the attempts to correct it be ignored, Which, for the sake of good order, Might, in their enforcement, hurt you, Turning what should be shame into something necessary That requires prudent action.
For, you trow, nuncle, The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, That it’s had it head bit off by it young. So, out went the candle, and we were left darkling.
You see, uncle, The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, That it got its head bitten off by its own young. So, the candle went out, and we were left in darkness.
Are you our daughter?
Are you really my daughter?
Come, sir, I would you would make use of that good wisdom, Whereof I know you are fraught; and put away These dispositions, that of late transform you From what you rightly are.
Come on, sir, I wish you would use that good wisdom That I know you have; and let go of These attitudes that have lately changed you From who you truly are.
May not an ass know when the cart draws the horse? Whoop, Jug! I love thee.
Can’t a donkey tell when the cart is pulling the horse? Whoop, Jug! I love you.
Doth any here know me? This is not Lear: Doth Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes? Either his notion weakens, his discernings Are lethargied--Ha! waking? ’tis not so. Who is it that can tell me who I am?
Does anyone here recognize me? This can’t be Lear: Does Lear walk like this? Talk like this? Where are his eyes? Either my mind is failing, my understanding Is sluggish—Am I awake? It’s not possible. Who can tell me who I am?
Lear’s shadow.
Lear’s shadow.
I would learn that; for, by the marks of sovereignty, knowledge, and reason, I should be false persuaded I had daughters.
I’d like to understand that; because, based on the signs of authority, knowledge, and reason, I should be wrongly convinced I had daughters.
Which they will make an obedient father.
They’ll make you into an obedient father.
Your name, fair gentlewoman?
What’s your name, fair lady?
This admiration, sir, is much o’ the savour Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you To understand my purposes aright: As you are old and reverend, you should be wise. Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires; Men so disorder’d, so debosh’d and bold, That this our court, infected with their manners, Shows like a riotous inn: epicurism and lust Make it more like a tavern or a brothel Than a graced palace. The shame itself doth speak For instant remedy: be then desired By her, that else will take the thing she begs, A little to disquantity your train; And the remainder, that shall still depend, To be such men as may besort your age, And know themselves and you.
This astonishment, sir, is just like your other recent antics. I beg you to understand my intentions clearly: As you’re old and respected, you should also be wise. Here you keep a hundred knights and followers; Men so unruly, so drunken and bold, That our court, corrupted by their behavior, Seems more like a rowdy inn: gluttony and lust Turn it into more of a tavern or a brothel Than a dignified palace. The disgrace alone demands an immediate solution: so, I request you, or else I’ll be forced to take what I ask for, to reduce the size of your retinue; And the ones you do keep should be men who match your age, and understand their place and yours.
Darkness and devils! Saddle my horses; call my train together: Degenerate bastard! I’ll not trouble thee. Yet have I left a daughter.
Darkness and demons! Saddle my horses; gather my men: Ungrateful child! I won’t bother you anymore. I still have another daughter.
You strike my people; and your disorder’d rabble Make servants of their betters.
You strike my people; and your unruly followers Treat their superiors like servants.
Woe, that too late repents,--
Regret that comes too late,--
O, sir, are you come? Is it your will? Speak, sir. Prepare my horses. Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend, More hideous when thou show’st thee in a child Than the sea-monster!
Oh, sir, you’re here? Is this what you want? Speak up, sir. Get my horses ready. Ingratitude, you stone-hearted demon, More monstrous when it shows up in a child Than any sea monster!
Pray, sir, be patient.
Please, sir, calm down.
[To GONERIL] Detested kite! thou liest. My train are men of choice and rarest parts, That all particulars of duty know, And in the most exact regard support The worships of their name. O most small fault, How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show! That, like an engine, wrench’d my frame of nature From the fix’d place; drew from heart all love, And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear! Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in,
[To GONERIL] Detestable vulture! You’re lying. My followers are chosen men, the best, Who know all their duties, And honor their names with the utmost respect. Oh, how a small fault appeared so horrible in Cordelia, That, like a machine, twisted my nature from its steady place; it drained my heart of love And filled it with bitterness. Oh Lear, Lear, Lear! Beat on this door that let your foolishness in,
And thy dear judgment out! Go, go, my people.
And drove out your good sense! Go, go, all of you.
My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant Of what hath moved you.
My lord, I am innocent; I have no idea what has upset you.
It may be so, my lord. Hear, nature, hear; dear goddess, hear! Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend To make this creature fruitful! Into her womb convey sterility! Dry up in her the organs of increase; And from her derogate body never spring A babe to honour her! If she must teem, Create her child of spleen; that it may live, And be a thwart disnatured torment to her! Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth; With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks; Turn all her mother’s pains and benefits To laughter and contempt; that she may feel How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is To have a thankless child! Away, away!
Perhaps that’s true, my lord. Listen, nature, listen; dear goddess, listen! Hold off, if you intended to make this woman fertile! Fill her womb with barrenness! Dry up in her the organs of fertility; And may her degraded body never produce a child to honor her! If she must bear children, Let it be a child born of spite, that it may live to be a twisted, unnatural torment to her! Let it carve wrinkles into her young face; Let falling tears etch channels in her cheeks; Turn all her maternal efforts and kindness into mockery and scorn; let her feel how much sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have an ungrateful child! Away, away!
Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this?
Now, gods we worship, what is the cause of this?
Never afflict yourself to know the cause; But let his disposition have that scope That dotage gives it.
Don’t trouble yourself trying to understand why; Just let his mood run free as his senility allows.
What, fifty of my followers at a clap! Within a fortnight!
What, fifty of my men dismissed at once! In just two weeks!
What’s the matter, sir?
What’s wrong, sir?
I’ll tell thee:
I’ll tell you:
Life and death! I am ashamed That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus; That these hot tears, which break from me perforce, Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon thee! The untented woundings of a father’s curse Pierce every sense about thee! Old fond eyes, Beweep this cause again, I’ll pluck ye out, And cast you, with the waters that you lose, To temper clay. Yea, it is come to this? Let is be so: yet have I left a daughter, Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable: When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails She’ll flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find That I’ll resume the shape which thou dost think I have cast off for ever: thou shalt, I warrant thee.
By heaven! I am ashamed That you have the power to unman me like this; That these hot tears, forced from me, Should be worth your attention. Curses and fogs upon you! The deepest wounds a father’s curse can inflict Strike all your senses! Old foolish eyes, Cry again over this, and I’ll tear you out, And throw you away with the tears you shed, To mix with dirt. Has it come to this? Let it be so: but I still have another daughter, Who, I am sure, is kind and comforting: When she hears of this from you, with her nails She’ll tear off your wolfish face. You’ll see That I’ll regain the dignity you think I’ve given up forever: I promise you that.
Do you mark that, my lord?
Did you hear that, my lord?
I cannot be so partial, Goneril, To the great love I bear you,--
I cannot be so biased, Goneril, Despite how much I love you--
Pray you, content. What, Oswald, ho!
Please, enough. Oswald, come here!
You, sir, more knave than fool, after your master.
You there, more rogue than fool, go follow your master.
Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry and take the fool with thee. A fox, when one has caught her, And such a daughter, Should sure to the slaughter, If my cap would buy a halter: So the fool follows after.
Uncle Lear, Uncle Lear, wait and take the fool with you. A fox, when you’ve caught her, And a daughter like that, Should surely be killed, If my hat could buy a rope: So the fool follows along.
This man hath had good counsel:--a hundred knights! ’Tis politic and safe to let him keep At point a hundred knights: yes, that, on every dream, Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike, He may enguard his dotage with their powers, And hold our lives in mercy. Oswald, I say!
This man has had good advice:--a hundred knights! It’s smart and safe to let him keep A hundred knights ready: yes, that way, at every suspicion, Each rumor, each whim, each complaint, each dislike, He can protect his old age with their strength, And hold our lives at his mercy. Oswald, I’m calling you!
Well, you may fear too far.
Well, you might be worrying too much.
Safer than trust too far: Let me still take away the harms I fear, Not fear still to be taken: I know his heart. What he hath utter’d I have writ my sister If she sustain him and his hundred knights When I have show’d the unfitness,--
Better to be cautious than too trusting: Let me keep avoiding the dangers I fear, Instead of always fearing to be taken by surprise. I know his nature. I’ve written to my sister about what he said, If she supports him and his hundred knights After I’ve shown how unfit it is--
How now, Oswald! What, have you writ that letter to my sister?
How now, Oswald! Well, have you written that letter to my sister?
Yes, madam.
Yes, madam.
Take you some company, and away to horse: Inform her full of my particular fear; And thereto add such reasons of your own As may compact it more. Get you gone; And hasten your return.
Take some company, and go on horseback: Tell her fully about my specific fears; And add whatever reasons of your own That might support it more. Now go; And hurry back quickly.
No, no, my lord, This milky gentleness and course of yours Though I condemn not, yet, under pardon, You are much more attask’d for want of wisdom Than praised for harmful mildness.
No, no, my lord, Your gentle and soft approach, Though I don’t criticize it, yet, if I may speak freely, You are more criticized for lacking wisdom Than praised for being kindly ineffective.
How far your eyes may pierce I can not tell: Striving to better, oft we mar what’s well.
How much insight you have, I can’t say: But trying to improve things often ruins what’s already good.
Nay, then--
Well, then--
Well, well; the event.
Alright, alright; let’s see what happens.