Original
Modern English
Welcome, my lord: I marvel our mild husband Not met us on the way.
Welcome, my lord. I wonder why my mild husband didn’t meet us on the way.
Now, where’s your master’?
Now, where’s your master?
Madam, within; but never man so changed. I told him of the army that was landed; He smiled at it: I told him you were coming: His answer was ’The worse:’ of Gloucester’s treachery, And of the loyal service of his son, When I inform’d him, then he call’d me sot, And told me I had turn’d the wrong side out: What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him; What like, offensive.
Madam, he’s inside, but he’s never been so changed. I told him about the army that landed; He just smiled: I told him you were coming: He replied, ‘Even worse.’ When I mentioned Gloucester’s betrayal and the loyalty of his son, he called me a fool and said I had everything backward. What he should dislike, he seems to enjoy; what he should like, he finds offensive.
[To EDMUND] Then shall you go no further. It is the cowish terror of his spirit, That dares not undertake: he’ll not feel wrongs Which tie him to an answer. Our wishes on the way May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother; Hasten his musters and conduct his powers: I must change arms at home, and give the distaff Into my husband’s hands. This trusty servant Shall pass between us: ere long you are like to hear, If you dare venture in your own behalf, A mistress’s command. Wear this; spare speech;
[To EDMUND] Then you will go no further. It’s his cowardly fear that keeps him from taking action. He won’t acknowledge the wrongs that require a response. Our plans on the way might bring results. Go back, Edmund, to my brother; Hurry his troops and lead his forces. I must take control at home and give household duties to my husband. This loyal servant will carry messages between us. Soon you might hear, if you dare act on your own behalf, orders from a mistress. Take this; say no more.
Decline your head: this kiss, if it durst speak, Would stretch thy spirits up into the air: Conceive, and fare thee well.
Bow your head: this kiss, if it could speak, would lift your spirit to the skies. Understand, and farewell.
Yours in the ranks of death.
I’m ready to die for you.
My most dear Gloucester!
My dearest Gloucester!
O, the difference of man and man! To thee a woman’s services are due: My fool usurps my body.
Oh, what a difference between men! You deserve a woman’s devotion: My foolish husband controls my body.
Madam, here comes my lord.
Madam, here comes my lord.
I have been worth the whistle.
I used to be worth something.
O Goneril! You are not worth the dust which the rude wind Blows in your face. I fear your disposition: That nature, which contemns its origin, Cannot be border’d certain in itself; She that herself will sliver and disbranch From her material sap, perforce must wither And come to deadly use.
Oh Goneril! You’re not worth the dust that the rough wind Blows in your face. I fear your nature: A person who rejects where they come from Can never be stable; A woman who severs herself From her source must wither And become something deadly.
No more; the text is foolish.
Enough; that’s nonsense.
Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile: Filths savour but themselves. What have you done? Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform’d? A father, and a gracious aged man, Whose reverence even the head-lugg’d bear would lick, Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you madded. Could my good brother suffer you to do it? A man, a prince, by him so benefited! If that the heavens do not their visible spirits Send quickly down to tame these vile offences, It will come, Humanity must perforce prey on itself, Like monsters of the deep.
Wisdom and goodness seem vile to the vile: The filthy can only appreciate filth. What have you done? You act like tigers, not daughters. What have you done? A father, a kind old man, So respected that even a brutal bear would show him mercy, You’ve driven him mad, you barbaric, ungrateful creatures! Could my noble brother allow this? A man, a prince, who treated him so well! If the heavens don’t send their angels Soon to curb these horrible acts, It will happen That humans will destroy each other, Like monsters of the sea.
Milk-liver’d man! That bear’st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs; Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning Thine honour from thy suffering; that not know’st Fools do those villains pity who are punish’d Ere they have done their mischief. Where’s thy drum? France spreads his banners in our noiseless land; With plumed helm thy slayer begins threats; Whiles thou, a moral fool, sit’st still, and criest ’Alack, why does he so?’
Cowardly man! You take blows, accept insults; You can’t see the difference Between honor and suffering; you don’t realize Only fools pity villains who are punished Before they’ve finished their evil. Where’s your army? France is raising his flags in our quiet land; Your enemy is already threatening you, While you, a moralizing fool, sit still and whine ’Oh no, why is he doing that?’
See thyself, devil! Proper deformity seems not in the fiend So horrid as in woman.
Look at yourself, devil! The evil in a woman is more monstrous Than in a demon.
O vain fool!
Oh, foolish coward!
Thou changed and self-cover’d thing, for shame, Be-monster not thy feature. Were’t my fitness To let these hands obey my blood, They are apt enough to dislocate and tear Thy flesh and bones: howe’er thou art a fiend, A woman’s shape doth shield thee.
You twisted, hypocritical thing, have some shame! Don’t make yourself into a monster. If it were right For my hands to follow my anger, They would eagerly tear apart Your flesh and bones: though you’re a fiend, Being in a woman’s form protects you.
Marry, your manhood now--
Well, now you’re acting like a man--
What news?
What’s the news?
O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall’s dead: Slain by his servant, going to put out The other eye of Gloucester.
Oh, my lord, the Duke of Cornwall is dead: He was killed by his servant, who was going to take out Gloucester’s other eye.
Gloucester’s eye!
Gloucester’s eye?
A servant that he bred, thrill’d with remorse, Opposed against the act, bending his sword To his great master; who, thereat enraged, Flew on him, and amongst them fell’d him dead; But not without that harmful stroke, which since Hath pluck’d him after.
A servant he raised, filled with guilt, Tried to stop the act, turning his sword On his master; but the master, enraged, Attacked him, and they fought until he was killed; But not before dealing that deadly blow, which since Has led to his own downfall.
This shows you are above, You justicers, that these our nether crimes So speedily can venge! But, O poor Gloucester! Lost he his other eye?
This shows how much you, the judges, are above us, That these terrible crimes of ours Can be punished so quickly! But, oh poor Gloucester! Did he lose his other eye?
Both, both, my lord. This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer; ’Tis from your sister.
Yes, both, my lord. This letter, madam, asks for a quick reply; It’s from your sister.
[Aside] One way I like this well; But being widow, and my Gloucester with her, May all the building in my fancy pluck Upon my hateful life: another way, The news is not so tart.--I’ll read, and answer.
[Aside] In one way, I like this news; But being a widow, and with my Gloucester gone, It might ruin everything I’ve built up And destroy my miserable life. On the other hand, The news isn’t that bad.--I’ll read it, and reply.
Where was his son when they did take his eyes?
Where was his son when they took his eyes?
Come with my lady hither.
He’s coming with my lady.
He is not here.
He’s not here.
No, my good lord; I met him back again.
No, my lord; I saw him on his way back.
Knows he the wickedness?
Does he know about the evil deeds?
Ay, my good lord; ’twas he inform’d against him; And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment Might have the freer course.
Yes, my lord; he was the one who reported it; And he left the house on purpose, so their punishment Could take its course without interference.
Gloucester, I live To thank thee for the love thou show’dst the king, And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend: Tell me what more thou know’st.
Gloucester, I live To thank you for the loyalty you showed to the king, And to avenge your eyes. Come here, friend: Tell me everything you know.